Spellbound

21. A Letter Smelling of Blood

This story will have 33 chapters by the way ^^

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When Lavellan described his newest findings to the Bull a few days after Dorian had gifted the elf his bow, he considered going over to the mage's room to check on him. Dorian seemed unavailable these days, his smiles fleeting and his wit not as articulate as usual. His mind was elsewhere, clearly, and Lavellan wondered where it had gone. He couldn't tell if his investment in the matter came from the time he had spent getting to know Dorian's private sides, or if he merely missed the man's touch.

As bad as a Tevinter mage was, Lavellan couldn't deny how the nights shared between them resonated in his guts. Pleasantly, so.

The Bull grumbled under his breath, a fist coming up to support his heavy head.

"Anything busying you? You're forgetting to scowl."

Lavellan glanced up with a blank face, then a chuckle dropped from his lips. As if by magic, Bull's mouth jumped into a broad smirk.

"You make it sound as if that is the only tolerable expression on me," Lavellan replied; Dorian shoved out of his mind.

"The most familiar one, I'd say. Everything I ever see elves do is frown or sport this expression of monotonous melancholy, as if they carry the weight of every elf to ever have existed on their shoulders. I was surprised to see your whimsical sides shine through, but this one is new."

"What does your expert observation skill predict what this is about?"

The Iron Bull didn't miss a beat.

"Dorian. You've been looking troubled ever since you first crawled into bed with him, and my guess is that your mind is questioning its beliefs regarding him. He can do that to people." Smug, the Bull listened to Lavellan curse in Elvish. The rumble of his voice lowered further as he leaned in conspiratorially.

"Is the sex that good? I wouldn't know how he does in that position."

Lavellan flushed a deep shade of red and stuttered about. He had seen enough of the two to know how Bull dominated their relationship, but he needed no details. The Bull's offhand assumption of who played which role between Lavellan and Dorian was almost insulting.

"I've been... enjoying myself more than expected. Though there is a simple answer to those troubles in my mind. Whatever my physical relationship with Dorian is, it doesn't overrule my conflict with him as a person. He is still a mage, still a Tevinter, and still my master."

Bull caressed his stubble with understanding as he leaned back in his chair.

"I can't talk for a Dalish mind. Never surrender and all that. But I can confidently say that Dorian is one of two Vints I met who have my utter respect. Don't know if that has any importance in your head, but to me it does." He shrugged, heavy horns inclining with a flex of his impressive shoulder muscles.

"Fenris told me about his past owner. The magister."

"That piece of shit, yes. I wasn't here yet when all of that happened, so he was damn lucky to get away with a couple of burn scars. If I had got him into my fingers, I would have ripped him apart."

Unperturbed by the violent streak in the Tal-Vashoth, Lavellan thought back to Fenris' pained features when he had brought it up. There had been no details, but his agony had been palpable in the air. It had followed him for more than a year.

"You would have killed him for Fenris?"

"No. I would have killed him for being disgusting Vint vermin. Then I would have killed him for Fenris. He is not like Dorian, and I agree with you that magisters like him deserve nothing but having their toes fed to them."