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It was a somber camp that night. The Chargers had caught the Iron Bull's dark mood so there were no drinking songs round the fire, and everyone else was depressed by the rain and the chill and the whole Qunari debacle.

Gatt walked into the quiet camp with a chip on his shoulder so large Bridget was sure she could see it. He came up to Bridget where she sat with Rainier, both of them cradling cups of tea in an attempt to get warm. "Inquisitor."

"Gatt."

"It is my duty to tell you that there will be no alliance between my people and your Inquisition. Nor will you be receiving and more Ben-Hassrath reports from your Tal-Vashoth ally," he added as the Iron Bull's bulk loomed over his shoulder.

"Do you have orders to kill me, Gatt?" The Iron Bull's voice was soft, but there was an edge to it, and Gatt stepped away from him, trying to keep the movement unobtrusive and failing utterly.

"No. The Ben-Hassrath have already lost one good man. They'd rather not lose two."

It interested Bridget to see how much even his own people feared the Iron Bull. She had always suspected there was more to him than met the eye; she was glad he had chosen to remain with the Inquisition. It was clear it hadn't been an easy decision from the way he had flinched at the term "Tal-Vashoth". And she was far from believing that Gatt was as valuable as he was trying to suggest he was.

Gatt turned and left the camp. One of the Chargers, Skinner, made a move toward him, but the Iron Bull shook his head sharply, and they reluctantly sat back down.

"So much for that." The Iron Bull's shoulders, usually so square, were slumped.

"I never meant to turn you against your people, Bull," Bridget said softly, moving to stand next to him.

He shook his head, frowning. "I'm the one who blew the horn."

"On my orders."

"Boss … let me have this one, all right? This one needs to be mine."

Bridget could see that. The effect on him would be the more far-reaching; the responsibility had to be on his shoulders, or he wouldn't be able to live with the consequences.

"You're late," the Iron Bull said sharply, and Bridget looked around to see who he was speaking to, jumping when she saw Krem come out of the shadows of the nearest tent.

"Sorry, Chief. Still sore from fighting off all those Vints. Good to see you, Inquisitor."

She returned Krem's nod. "How did the Chargers come out of the fight?"

"Just fine. Thanks to you and the Chief, we had plenty of time to fall back." He grinned. "The Chief's even breaking open a cask of Chasind sack mead for the Chargers tonight."

The Iron Bull frowned down at him. "Damn it, Krem! That's the kind of thing you don't have to mention to the Inquisitor!"

"Well, under the circumstances, no need to share … not with me, anyway," Bridget said, smiling over at Rainier.

"Plenty to go around," Krem said, nodding to Rainier. "Er, sorry, Chief."

"Ah, forget it," the Iron Bull said. She could hear the deep affection he held for his subordinate in his voice. "You're doing fine." They walked off together.

"He'll be all right," Rainier said, coming up behind her, his solid strength and warmth comforting in the continued rain and chill. "His Chargers will see to it."

She believed that, but still … she worried.

The Iron Bull appeared to be his usual raucous self with his Chargers on the way back, but Rainier was too familiar with what devastation felt like not to recognize it in someone else. He wasn't surprised when Krem approached Bridget once they were back at Skyhold to worry aloud over how heavily the break with his people was weighing on his chief.

He was, however, surprised to receive a note asking him to meet the Iron Bull on the battlements at sunset.

Rainier went, for curiosity's sake if nothing else, and was approaching the Iron Bull, asking why he'd wanted to see him, when two men in Inquisition scout and soldier uniforms approached them. One of them aimed a gleaming throwing knife at the Iron Bull, and caught him in the back of the shoulder.

With a grunt of irritation, the Iron Bull plucked the knife out of his skin and threw it back, catching the soldier in the throat. Rainier, meanwhile, had handled the scout, wounding him and sending him reeling back against the Iron Bull.

"All yours," Rainier said to him.

"Thanks."

"Ebost issala, Tal-Vashoth," the scout sneered.

The Iron Bull lifted him bodily and hurled him over the battlements, watching him fall, and called after him, "Yeah, yeah, my soul is dust. Yours is scattered all over the ground, though, so …" He grunted in pain, rolling his shoulder, and turned to Rainier. "Thanks for coming. I thought I might need backup. Guess I'm not even worth sending professionals for."

"You all right?" Rainier indicated the knife wound.

"Fine. Hurt myself worse than this fooling around in bed." He grinned, and Rainier chuckled.

"That poisoned?" he asked.

"Definitely. Saar-kamek, liquid form. If I hadnt been dosing myself with the antidote, I'd be going crazy and puking my guts up right now. As it is …" He shrugged. "It stings like shit, but that's about it."

"What tipped you the assassins were coming?"

"Little change in the guard rotation."

Rainier nodded. He had noticed the same thing, but he hadn't expected Ben-Hassrath infiltration of their troops. Not yet. Maybe he should have. He made a mental note to be more vigilant. "You plan to get payback?"

"Against who? The entire Ben-Hassrath? Besides, this wasn't serious. Sending two guys with blades, against me? That's not a hit; that's a formality. Just making it clear that I'm Tal-Vashoth. Tal-Va-fucking-shoth," he added bitterly.

"You want some advice, from someone who's lost his identity not once but twice?"

"Yeah. Sure. Why not?"

Rainier grinned. "After a while, it feels kind of freeing, leaving all that old shit behind, reinventing yourself."

"Not sure I'm there yet."

"It takes a while."

"Unless you find a beautiful blonde who's willing to help you speed up the process, eh, Rainier?"

"Something like that."

The Iron Bull snorted a laugh. "Finding one should be entertaining." More seriously, he added. "Rainier. You do me a favor?"

"Yeah. Sure. Why not?"

"Tell the boss that she might think she made the call, but … this was my choice. Whatever I miss, whatever I regret—this is where I want to be. Whenever she needs an ass kicked, the Iron Bull is with her."

"I'll tell her."

The Iron Bull nodded and walked off down the battlements.

Rainier watched him, not entirely sure it was that easy, but sure that the Iron Bull was their ally as long as Corypheus remained the target, and that was a win any way you looked at it.