Fifty Shades of Bull

by Skyla Ladona

Bull's had a lot of names. His first one was just numbers, so it's safe to say Bull has issues knowing what persona and name is really his. Perhaps Inquisitor Samahl Lavellan will see what persona hides behind all the names. But if Iron Bull must seduce Samahl to help save the world, he will, no matter what persona of Bull is real. (Features a healthy and consensual relationship.)

6. The Year of Bullshit That Never Happened

Chapter 6: The Year of Bullshit That Never Happened

Summary:

9:42 Dragon. What a fucking bullshit year. Iron Bull Greatly Disapproves.

Notes:

**Trigger Warnings for Chapter**

Body horror
Battle and magical violence
Blood
Suicidal Thoughts
Deadly illness (lyrium and Darkspawn induced)
Temporary deaths of major and minor characters

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Bull's meal twice a day in his cell under Redcliffe castle was either fish, bread, or even vegetables—Bull hated vegetables—rich with red lyrium dust. Bull hadn't seen Sera in five weeks since the two of them had been captured during the same skirmish. In week four, Bull had noticed he was glowing red. He could feel a strange stiffness in his blood. At first, he had thought with a grim humor that maybe his arteries were finally paying him back for all the rich meals he'd eaten since he was a wide-eyed fish-out-of-water Qunari in Orlais. Bull had survived Seheron and the end of the world, and a fucking artery blockage would finally take him out?

No, the tightness in his muscles and veins was the lyrium, and it was slowly killing him.

But Bull hadn't dropped dead. The prison guards were good at monitoring them. They had charts that kept track of their vitals and how much lyrium they ingested. It was a careful science. Too much too fast and the prisoners died and the lyrium would be weak. Too little, and it would take forever to turn them into fuel. After a year of testing lyrium on their prisoners, the lyrium the Venatori mined here at Redcliffe from their prisoner's corpses for their army of Red Templars was strong and completely devastating to the last remaining allies of the fractured and broken Inquisition.

Their slow and painful deaths were a highly educational experience for the Venatori.

Bull was turning into a red rock, and he didn't have the capacity to care anymore. It was like all the mental breaks, loss, pain, and anger since last year had eaten away at all his emotions like the lyrium was eating away at his blood, capillaries, and muscles.

Bull was surprised that he could still think after all the bullshit his mind was putting up with. His mind was apparently like a Qunari dreadnaught with several hulls. Each time a crack ran through one shell, and the water of insanity came through, there was always another protective hull beneath it.

The first hull broke open completely a long time ago. Bull could still hear the sound of the arrow jolting through Vasaad's neck and the sound of Tal-Vashoth laughter in the darkness . . .

The next hull cracked open when that Elder One—Sera's nickname for him had always been Corypheshit—broke open a hole in the world. Bull had just taken down a huge giant in the Storm Coast when it happened, and he had a moment of terror before greed kicked in and he realized money was on the horizon for his boys. What foreign leader was out there begging for someone to fight the demons that were falling from a rift into their ballroom and bathrooms? What secrets would Bull hear for the Qun in a place like that?

Then Krem got the bright idea that working for something called the "Inquisition" might give them a good fight, money, and a lot more information for him to send home to the Qun.

Fucking asshole. Bull should've grabbed all his boys and ran the fuck out of all of it. Fuck the Qun. Fuck the Inquisition. The whole world was tearing itself apart and none of their efforts had mattered. He wanted none of it to still matter, but he still couldn't stop giving a fuck, no matter how much he wanted to.

The next hull of his sanity had cracked when he saw the pretty Tevinter Mage and the Herald disappear in a puff of smoke. Dorian Pavus. That had been the mage's name. Or had it been Fabien? He had looked like a Fabien, with that curled mustache, that hair style, those pretty lips.

Dorian . . . Fabien? . . . Pavus had been the first son of House Pavus in Tevinter, a mage and a man helplessly attracted to men and secretly ashamed of it, 'cause Tevinters were weird about who should fuck who. Bull didn't need the report his Qunari informant gave him to see Dorian's heart had been in the right place even though his status as a Tevinter Altus made Bull instinctively on edge. But the fascinated glances Bull saw Dorian cast on Samahl, or on Krem, or on Bull, or on any other attractive male presenting person when the altus thought he wasn't being watched had been intriguing.

Too bad there hadn't been enough time to explore that fascination. Not even a week after Bull met the guy, some asshole Vint had to kill the fop, both him and Samahl, in the great hall of Redcliffe Castle. There was nothing left of the only hope to close the Breach but a burn mark on the stone floor.

Bull had retreated, but the Vints followed along with the Rebel Mages who were suddenly on the Vints side and Templars corrupted by red lyrium, the same lyrium Varric was so adamant that no one should touch. And those Templars were drinking the stuff. The Inquisition had escaped down an old pilgrim path away from Haven, but Bull had heard the resounding roar of a dragon and seen the shadow of a monster of a man, a darkspawn, the one who started this whole mess.

Then Empress Celine was assassinated. No one took her place.

When the Wardens returned, people were very quick to realize that they were following the Elder One. And something was very wrong with the mages. They did not speak, did not scream if you gutted them, their eyes glowed, and they had demons by their sides, which they controlled like little pets, and the ensuing fight with their army of demons broke Bull's next layer of sanity.

Bull had woken up the next day with little memory of what had happened after one of the demons opened up its gaping maw and bit off Stitches head, but he was aware that he had killed many demons and Wardens that day. According to the healer patching up his wounds, Bull was a hero. Many more Inquisition soldiers and civilians would have died if Bull had not been there. Bull had laughed for five long minutes until he succumbed to a drug-induced sleep.

And the Breach continued to grow. And grow. And grow more. When the whole sky turned green with it, Bull's next layer of sanity broke. In celebration, Krem and Bull broke open a cask of ale and toasted a time well spent working together. The Ben-Hassrath no longer contacted Bull. Par Vollen had fallen soon after the fall of Orlais.

After each skirmish, the Venatori, Wardens, and Red Templars took prisoners. Bull hadn't known at the time why they were taken prisoner. Was it just a form of morale torture of the masses till they submitted to the Elder One and called him "God?" Was it for experiments? Where were they all being kept?

The latest prisoners taken from them had been kids who, because of a shortage of warriors and mages, had taken on different roles in the Inquisition. The kids were orphans of people who died at the conclave, children who grew up in the circle, and even some of the local children who wanted to get involved, in some way, to stop the Elder One. The Inquisition couldn't afford to turn down a kid's offer to help anymore.

Krem died trying to protect the kids. An arrow bolt had slammed into his skull through his eye just after he shouted, "Take cover!" at a Circle mage named Felicity, nicknamed Flashy, only 14 years old, who had become the Chargers' newest recruit to replace Dalish after her death in the last skirmish. Bull buried Krem in a field of wildflowers with his shield.

Flashy was taken prisoner not long after that. The next time Bull saw Flashy, she stank like a Warden, her eyes glowing red, and a demon was by her side at her beck and call. Bull's next layer of sanity broke when he took off Flashy's head with his own axe. Then a giant Templar abomination knocked him over the head with a giant stone lyrium fist and cracked five of his ribs.

When Bull came to after that, he was in the cell under Redcliffe. The whole building was damp and dank. The tearing of the world apart had changed the shape and texture of this place. At least, that is what Joseph, his friend in the cell across from his, had said. It's why salt water from an ocean in the Fade was spilling down the walls of the cells before the water disappeared into the floor below.

Joseph had been an apostate mage who lived in the woods of the Free Marches for years until he got out of hiding to give his services to the Inquisition, but he had never crossed paths with Bull. His recently discovered ability to drape the Fade around himself for camouflage had earned him reconnaissance fieldwork from Leliana. Joseph had been captured four months ago during a mission and he had been gradually turning into red lyrium.

When Bull's first meal in the cell glowed red, Bull learned what had happened to most of the prisoners. They were the red lyrium that the Red Templars used to fuel their power.

Bull's next layer of sanity broke without much fuss during week two of his imprisonment when Joseph died. By that point, the Vints had stopped feeding Joseph regular food. Joseph hadn't needed to be fed anymore.

Bull knew the moment Joseph died. Bull had been talking to him about Orlesian theatre and noticed that Joseph was staring at him from across the divide between their cells, his glowing eyes locked on Bull's face with an intensity that made Bull's voice crack. It was the look of a man who felt death in his next breath and was reminding himself that he wasn't alone. Bull had continued to talk about the intricacies of Orlesian theatre for two hours just in case Joseph was alive or aware somewhere in that lump of lyrium. Bull had wondered what Joseph's organs had looked like in the end before he died. Did the lyrium just turn everything uniformly into crystal, or did the body still have all its individual parts? Did a kidney still exist in that lump of lyrium he was staring at across from his cell? Or a heart? Or an eye? Bull had never known what eye color Joseph had. Joseph's eyes had always glowed red.

The next day, the prison guards brought expendable servants with them to mine Joseph. Bull had watched them mine the lump that was once Joseph without speaking. He didn't rage. He didn't throw anything. He didn't try to kill himself. He was scored out. He didn't think he had anything left.

Now, five weeks into his imprisonment, Bull was counting imaginary bottles of beer on the wall—How did you put bottles of beer on a wall? Maybe the Fade would let him do that if he got any beer. He'd just put them on the wall sideways and watch them sit there on the brick—when a painfully familiar figure in dark blue robes and an Inquisition breast plate made of silverite stepped up to the bars of his cell.

It wasn't the first time Bull had seen Samahl's face since he died. According to Solas, dreams were made by the spirits of the Fade. If you dreamt of something, it was because spirits were putting on a play for you. Now that the Fade was bleeding into Thedas, it was not uncommon for mostly harmless spirits to take on the forms of people. The first time it had happened was a half a year ago. Bull had been in the Hinterlands with the Chargers during a moonless night. They had just successfully massacred a Red Templar camp, and they were all tired.

Bull had stepped into his tent. On the cot, his robes open and exposing his tattoos and scars to the lantern light, was Samahl. He looked just like he had that night at Fish End in the Fallow Mire while Bull tended to his wounds. But the wounds were gone. Instead of pale and ashen, he looked warm, his skin bright with a healthy glow. His red hair fell loose and unbraided over his shoulder.

Bull thought he was dreaming. He'd dreamt of what had happened in the Fallow Mire so many times. If he could have done anything differently, he would have asked Samahl if he could kiss him. He knew Samahl would have said yes. Just a kiss. No more. Damn, it would have been nice to have done that back when Bull had any hope left for things to turn out right.

Bull walked up to the dream Samahl and knelt on the ground beside the cot. He reached out a hand and touched his warm hair. Samahl's bright blue eyes closed and he smiled with pure contentment. And Bull bent down to kiss him. Bull couldn't count how many times he had wanted to kiss Samahl when he was alive. This dream was letting him imagine it.

The Herald's hand reached up to touch Bull's horns, sliding his fingertips along them, till he caressed his forehead and then his eyepatch. "This is not real," the doppelganger of Samahl had whispered sadly. "But I hope I helped."

Then Samahl vanished into a vibrant green mist.

Bull couldn't sleep for two days after that.

But the doppelgänger staring at Bull from behind the bars under Redcliffe castle seemed very real. He had a large, bleeding slash across his forehead. His robes—They were the same robes Bull had seen him wear the day he vanished—were wet, dripping, and stained. There were dark shadows under his eyes and a horrible frown on his forehead, and when he stepped closer, his hands closing around the bars of his cell, he stared at Bull in mute horror. And just behind Samahl was Fabien. No. Dorian. And Sera. The same red aura surrounding Bull was emanating from her, and she looked at Bull with haunted, insane eyes.

It was all the proof Bull needed to realize that this Samahl wasn't a doppelgänger.

Bull's jaw clenched. "You're not dead?" Bull said accusingly to Samahl. "You're supposed to be dead. There was a burn mark on the ground and everything."

Samahl opened his mouth to speak, but Dorian stepped towards his cell. "Alexius didn't kill us," Dorian said. His staff flashed as he did some complicated magic with the Venatori-enforced lock of his cell. The cell door swung open. "His spell sent us through time. This is our future."

Bull remembered the warping of time in places back in Redcliffe village a year ago. In some places, time was slower. In others, faster. Maybe this was real. And if it wasn't real, it was a pretty interesting hallucination. He'd take any entertainment he could get. "Well, it's my present," Bull said. "And in my past, I definitely saw you both die."

Samahl managed a smile, but it didn't reach his eyes as he took in the red glow emanating from Bull. "Well, I'm no more dead than you."

Hilarious. Bull growled. "Now 'dead' and 'not dead,' are up for debate. That's wonderful."

Dorian cast a look between the four of them. "This conversation has taken a turn for the moronic. Just come with us. We're going to fight Alexius."

Bull looked at both mages skeptically and then cast a glance at Sera. Sera looked just as impressed with that bold statement as Bull was. "Why?" Bull asked, walking out of his cell for the first time in weeks. Samahl had to step out of the way to let Bull pass him. Bull could see Joseph's boots in the other cell. They hadn't taken his boots. Bull looked away from the boots and focused on the mages. "You want to see what other tricks he has learned?"

"If we find him," Dorian said insistently, "we might be able to get back to our own time and stop all this," and he threw an arm out to indicate the water running from the rip in the Fade and the red lyrium dust of countless prisoners, "before it happens. Exciting, yes?"

"Alexius isn't the one you need to worry about. It's his 'Elder One.' He killed the Empress of Orlais, and used the confusion to launch an invasion of the south. The army was all demons." Bull raised an eyebrow. "You ever fought a demon army before? I don't recommend it."

Samahl debated that for a moment. "Well . . . shit."

Bull felt the corner of his stiff face lift in a smile. "I know, right? Let's move. No time like the present."

The four of them, with very little talking, snuck through the castle. They discovered Leliana being tortured for information. She didn't look good. Bull suspected she'd been used to keep Felix, Alexius's son, alive. None of the people who were used for that task were given any lyrium. They needed to be healthy and uncontaminated. None of them ever lived for very long after they were drained dry of life.

As they crept closer to the locked up center of the castle, where Alexius must have been, a group of Venatori were eating a meal in the dining room, their books open on the dining room table, their reaction times slowed by drink. Bull had the satisfaction of pinning the bastard who had been in charge of monitoring Joseph and Bull's vitals to the hardwood table. Bull chopped off his head. His satisfaction was short-lived. The bastard's head rolled and knocked over the good wine. Bull hadn't tasted good wine in a long time.

Samahl was backed into a corner by a hulking Venatori warrior. Bull charged forward and then slowed to a stop. Samahl was fine. The elven mage had a hand over the man's face. Lightning flared from his fingers. The Venatori shook and convulsed. Bull could smell cooked meat. The Venatori fell to his knees and then to the stone floor with a clang of metal armor.

Samahl's face was ashen, his blue eyes wide with stress and anger. He had another cut across his cheekbone that was bleeding freely. Then Samahl slumped against the wall and raked a hand over his tangled and wet hair, the same hand he had just used to fry the face of a person, before pulling his hand away from his hair with horror.

It was a novelty to see someone who was still affected by the horror they were all living in. Most people now just accepted that things could only get worse. Even the kids they'd had no choice but to recruit had been like that. There just wasn't room left in anyone to feel repulsed or afraid like that anymore.

Bull walked over to Samahl, turned around so he was standing beside him, and leaned back against the wall Samahl was slumped against. Bull didn't stand too close. He had no idea what the lyrium in his body would do to Samahl if he accidentally bumped up against him.

After a minute or two of even, controlled breathing, Samahl seemed to gather his mental faculties enough to push himself from the wall that supported him. "I needed a moment," Samahl whispered.

"I get that," Bull assured quietly. "You ok to keep going, Boss?"

Samahl, his eyes still wide, stared up into Bull's face. "I'm ready," he said, but he didn't look it. Not by a long shot.

Maybe that's why Bull even bothered to say what he said next. As Samahl walked a few steps away towards the table, perhaps to eat something, Bull followed after him. "If you get back—" Samahl turned around and Bull froze. "When you get back," Bull amended. "I want you to do something."

Samahl stepped closer to him, his eyes earnest. "What?" he asked.

Bull committed Samahl's blood-splattered face to his memories. "Give me a chance."

Samahl's expression morphed into bewilderment. "What?" he asked.

Bull smiled. "You look so confused. I thought I was being painfully obvious before that I was flirting with you. I've said plenty of comments about redheads, right?" Bull said, and he pointedly let his eye wander over Samahl's red and tangled braided hair.

Samahl sputtered and Bull grinned. It was nice to see embarrassment instead of destitution for a change. "Yes, but . . . shit, this is poor timing."

"The timing is always poor. Look what it did to you."

"I know. Fuck."

Bull had energy to laugh. "This fucking nightmare of a year gave me new perspective. If I could do anything differently, I would have asked you to kiss me back in the Fallow Mire. Were you even interested in doing anything with me?"

Samahl took a bold step forward, but Bull backed away with his hands up to hold him off. Samahl looked at the red glow surrounding Bull and his expression crumbled into despair. "I'm still interested, Bull."

Bull chuckled darkly. "I'm a dead man."

Despite the danger, Samahl reached out and touched the palm of one of Bull's glowing hands with one gloved finger, and Bull soaked in the feeling of the first kind touch on his skin he'd had in a month. "I'm so sorry," Samahl whispered.

"Don't," Bull snapped and stepped away. Bull took a breath in his stiff, slowly crystalizing lungs to compose himself. Too much. He couldn't hope yet. He couldn't accept a fucking apology for all this. He couldn't— "Don't. Don't say sorry. You didn't do this. Just—Laughter is the best medicine, right? So go back and fix this, Laughter."

Something determined settled into Samahl's expression as he stared at Bull's face. His jaw clenched and his blue eyes narrowed. He gave a curt nod. "I will."

They found Alexius in the throne room. He stood before a fire while his shriveled and broken son stood shivering and twitching in a hunched over and unnatural position by his side. "I was worried I would have to search the whole castle for you, Alexius," Samahl said. He held his staff tightly in a raised hand.

Alexius just stared into the flames with his back to the approaching allies of the Inquisition. "There's no longer anywhere to run," Alexius said. He didn't say from what. "I knew you would appear again. Not that it would be now, but I knew I hadn't destroyed you. My final failure."

Dorian stared at the man who had been his mentor and friend. "Was it worth it?" he asked angrily. "Everything you did to the world? To yourself?"

"It doesn't matter now," Alexius said in a broken voice as he stared at the mildly warping scenery around him, at the reality the Fade was twisting around its fingers. "All we can do is wait. For the end."

Bull watched from the corner of his eye as Leliana, unnoticed by anyone else but himself and maybe Sera, crept along the back wall in the shadows towards Felix.

"It does matter," Samahl bit out. "I will undo this."

"How many times I tried?" Alexius murmured. "The past can't be undone. All that I fought for, all that I betrayed, and what have I wrought? Ruin and death. There is nothing else. The Elder One comes: For me, for you, for us all."

Leliana stepped behind Felix, grabbed the hood of his robes, hauled him back against her, and drew a knife to his throat. His head tilted back, his frail neck unable to support its weight, and he stared blankly up at the rafters.

"Felix!" Alexius cried out.

"That's Felix?" Dorian gasped in horror. "Maker's breath, Alexius, what have you done?!"

"He would have died, Dorian!" Alexius insisted, as if he were begging for some sympathy and understanding even now. "I saved him!"

Bull snorted and his fingers tightened around his axe. Sera drew back the arrow notched in her bow. Saved him? There was nothing left of him. Death was only a mercy for the poor bastard.

"Please," Alexius groveled at Leliana. "Don't hurt my son."

Samahl looked at the shell that was left of Felix and then at Leliana looming behind the broken Tevinter. "You didn't save him, Alexius. No one should live like that."

Leliana sliced her dagger across Felix's throat. There was barely any blood left in him and he collapsed as if he were already dead. "No! Nooo!" Alexius screamed, and he threw out a hand. A wave of power launched Leliana into the air. Samahl waved his staff quickly to cushion her fall with a flashing shield around her. Alexius's head snapped around and he glared at Samahl with wide and rolling eyes, his face a mask of rage, insanity, and desperation. The Venatori shouted, spit flying from his mouth, "I gave the world for Felix! You will not take him from me!"

Alexius suddenly vanished from where he was standing, and Samahl formed a magical shield over himself just as the Magister appeared behind him and tried to stab him, nice and quick, with the blade of his staff. Samahl retreated on a wave of ice, cold frost blasting from his staff towards the Magister. The ice impacted against Alexius, but before Bull could see the damage, Alexius vanished again and reappeared in a puff of smoke at the other end of the throne room. "Where are your assassins this time?!" Alexius shouted. He stabbed his staff into the stone of the throne room floor. A bright green rift opened above him. The room rippled with power. Demons dissolved into existence around them.

Fucking demons. Not again. Bull had seen far too many demons in the past year. Samahl, Leliana, and Sera, sprinted to a space of reality in the room that was moving quicker than the others, and Samahl's staff and Leliana and Sera's arrows became blurs as they used the faster speed to take out the demons spaced throughout the room.

Bull searched for the Magister as he hacked through a demon. But Bull couldn't see Alexius. Maybe he was like Joseph. Bull remembered Joseph saying once that his camouflage was much more effective when he was close to rifts. "Take out the rift!" Bull shouted at Samahl when the last demon fell. "He's using it as cover!"

Samahl didn't question it. His hand shot out towards the rift and Bull felt a stab of emotions resound in him to see that nostalgic mark on Samahl's hand. Maybe, just maybe, this crazy plan would work.

The rift closed and Alexius appeared again, standing near the fire and beside the crumpled corpse of Felix. "Your death will be my apology!" he shouted.

Bull charged with a roar. "Sorry!" Bull shouted and slammed his axe down over the Magister's head. He knew he wouldn't actually land a solid hit on the mage himself, but he saw the magical shield that protected him flash and weaken. Bull slammed his axe down again and again till the mage had to back up towards the fire behind him. An explosion of energy rippled from the magister and Bull rolled away to avoid getting launched into the air. In Alexius's haste to push him back, he had launched his own son's corpse into the air as well. Bull nearly laughed grimly at the irony.

Alexius roared in despair. "Your efforts are futile! This world's already lost!" He slammed his staff into the floor again and a rift opened up above. Demons fell out of it as Alexius vanished once again. "The fade itself is at the Elder One's command!" screamed Alexius's disembodied voice from every corner of the throne room. "What power can stop that?!"

None of them bothered with a reply. The demons in this wave were fiercer, but they were so stupid that some of them stood in the parts of the room that were slower than the others. For all Alexius's claims that he would defeat them, he had no control over the demons.

After blasting through a demon with a burst of fire, Samahl raised his hand again and closed the second rift. His teeth were bared and blood was streaming from the five claw marks peeking through the ripped sleeve of his robes. The closing of the rift revealed Alexius, who charged at Samahl and engaged him directly in a close quarters mage battle. Fire, lighting, and ice flashed between the two of them until, with despair etched in every feature, Dorian attacked Alexius's unprotected back. When Dorian's staff blade impaled through the magister's back and appeared out the other side through his chest, Dorian let out a sob of anguish.

For a moment, Alexius stared up at the rafters, much like his son had before death, and rasped, "Time's up," as he fell to his knees with Dorian's staff blade still impaled through him.

Bull looked away as Dorian and Samahl murmured to each other over the corpse of Alexius. Bull could see through the long windows of the throne room, and the sight didn't bode well. The Wardens were coming. Wherever there were Wardens, there was the Elder One and the roving army of demons, Red Templars, and Venatori.

"An hour?!" Leliana was shouting at Dorian. "That's impossible! You must go now!"

With Leliana's shout ringing in his ears, Bull stared out at the scene outside the castle and heard the all too familiar roar of the lyrium dragon pet of the Elder One. He could see its dark shape hurtling through the sky. The ground shook and dust and loose plaster fell from the ceiling.

Bull agreed with Alexius. Time was up.

"The Elder One!" Leliana shouted.

"I was wondering when he'd show," Bull muttered.

"Frig!" Sera rasped. "Frig! That's how they won. How it won!" She looked at Bull with large glowing eyes as he walked towards her. "If they can make it right," she said with a nod towards Samahl and Dorian, "make it never happen, I'll fight." She looked between Bull and Leliana with gritted teeth. "We'll fight."

Bull nodded to her, rested the haft of his axe over his giant shoulder, and stared down at Samahl. Damn, he was beautiful. Too bad this would be the last time he'd see him. No matter what happened, no matter if Samahl made it back, the person Bull was right now, glowing like a frigging Wintersend lantern in Orlais, would die.

He'd die with his boots on at least.

"We'll head out front," Bull said gruffly. "Keep them off your tail."

Samahl's eyes drilled into Bull's "We'll make this count," Samahl promised fiercely. Dorian was already manipulating the amulet, his face tense with concentration.

"The only way we live is if this day never comes," Leliana murmured.

Bull kept his eye on Samahl for one more second till he turned and headed for the door and pushed it open, Sera by his side. They pushed the door and it closed with a mechanical clatter of gears behind them. Then they stood guard.

"Hey. Bull," Sera said.

"What?"

"What's gonna get to us first?"

Bull leaned back against the mechanical Venatori door. "Hmmm. Venatori rogues."

"I bet on the demons. Demons're faster."

"Just as fast as their Wardens," Bull mused.

"I'm afraid to die." Sera giggled brokenly. "After all this? Still frigging afraid. Didn't get to kiss one of your women. Didn't get to drink those drinks you keep gabbin' about. Didn't . . . didn't get to. . . to. . . " Sera sniffled and red glowing tears fell from her eyes. "Shite."

"Yeah," Bull drawled, "but you must have done that last thing some time in the past week."

Sera punched Bull's arm while Bull guffawed. Sera didn't move her hand away. Instead, she just gripped his giant bicep with her slender hand. "Shite, Bull. I'm glad you're with me."

"Right back at you," Bull said quietly.

Fifteen minutes. That's how long it took for four terror demons and their Warden mage retainers, a Venatori rogue, six Venatori fighters, and a giant, corrupted, and lumbering red templar to find them.

Bull heard a rift open behind the giant mechanical door.

"Fuck," Bull swore. Maybe this would work.

Sera let loose an arrow. The flying projectile caught one of the mages in the eye before she could react. The Wardens that handled the demons always had slower reactions. When the Warden died, the spindly terror demon that was the Warden's pet predictably went berserk.

The mages formed magical shields around themselves, and the rogue sprinted forward to engage Bull in combat. The rogue disappeared in a puff of smoke, but Bull knew where he was. He smashed his axe down and felt the crunch of bone as the axe snapped through the rogue. The smoke cloud cleared and Bull slashed his axe through one of the terror demons with a roar, but left the berserker demon alone. The berserker demon turned and leapt at one of the warriors with a scream. The warrior went down with a scream of his own.

One of the Warden mages raised her staff. The berserking terror demon burst into flames, its shrill shriek filling the hallways. By now, Bull knew that Dorian, Leliana, and Samahl on the other side of the door could hear the fight. The lumbering red templar was nearly at the door.

Bull's axe smashed against a Venatori shield. "Give up, fucking ox!" the Venatori barked.

"Fuck you!" Bull roared back, and smashed his axe down again on the shield once, twice, and then again till the shield broke and he could feel the rough axe handle burning cuts into his hands. He punched the Venatori in the face and felt a jaw snap against his knuckles. He grabbed the floundering Vint by the grooves in his chest plate and threw him at one of the Warden mages.

Then Bull charged and cleaved his axe into the lumbering red templar. Bull's axe sliced into brittle crystals. Bull felt his blood shift in his body. Perhaps it was drawn to the lyrium in the Red Templar's veins. The Red Templar grinned beneath the nose guard of his helmet. His teeth were stained and glowing with red lyrium. Bull hacked at the Templar again. An arm made from pure lyrium fell to the floor. Bull grabbed it and hurled it at one of the Venatori before Sera took out a warrior with an arrow.

The lyrium dragon roared, the whole castle shook, more plaster and stone fell from the ceiling, and the costly distraction made Bull too slow to react to the Red Templar's next move.

A spray of red lyrium shards from the Templar's outstretched hand blasted through Sera's chest. She didn't even scream. She just fell like a marionette to the floor and was still. Then the templar aimed its mutated arm at Bull.

Bull felt the spray of shards cut into him, but it was a numb feeling. He was already partly made of lyrium anyway. Bull slammed down his axe over the templar's head. The lyrium it had consumed must have been brittle, because the head broke and shattered like glass.

Bull staggered back till he was standing with the giant mechanical door at his back and a terror demon was striding towards him with a Venatori warrior by its side. Bull's breath heaved in his lungs. He could see the haze of lyrium on his breath. He could still hear Samahl and Dorian behind the mechanical door. "Come on!" he spat breathlessly. "Move! Move!"

The terror demon grabbed Bull by his harness and smashed him against the door. The door nearly buckled. The impact jarred Bull's skull, made the points where his horns grew from his scalp throb in time with his heart and his five cracked ribs, and shards of lyrium broke off from where they were impaled in Bull's body. Bull groaned in agony, blood spilling over his lips between his teeth, and Bull's giant hands grabbed onto the demon's wrists. The demon's fetid breath washed over Bull's face and its hands tightened around his harness. Its eight mismatched eyes all glared at Bull.

"Huh," Bull rasped. "Didn't picture I'd die this way."

The terror demon hauled Bull forward by the harness, roared in his face, and killed The Iron Bull by using him like a battering ram to break open the mechanical door.