Chapter Text
To the Iron Bull, Captain of the Bull’s Chargers,
As you already know, your name came to me upon the recommendation of my colleague and your particular friend, Madame Vivienne, Court Enchanter of Orlais. She referred to you as one of the most competent men of her acquaintance, which, if you know Madame Vivienne as well as she says, is the highest of compliments to your abilities and character. She is not one to soften her words or opinions, so I am inclined to take her recommendation of you at face value.
I write to you with a most urgent request for your services as Madame Vivienne has no doubt filled you in on. My dear husband is currently under threat of being taken by his family and I am in need of a suitable bodyguard for his protection. While he is a formidable mage and a fully ranked Enchanter, as am I, I fear that neither of us has the talent for the kind of strategic thinking that would help ensure my husband’s safety. I also fear that as mages we share the same weaknesses that may be used against us. I hope that your talents will help to keep my husband’s family at bay until the imminent danger has passed.
I am, of course, willing to pay handsomely for your services. Madame Vivienne has taken it upon herself to negotiate a generous fee on your behalf. I am willing to negotiate further, should you find it inadequate.
Please write back at your earliest convenience.
Yours Sincerely,
Professor Emmrich Volkarin
My Dear Iron Bull,
Darling, I am sure you’ve received Professor Volkarin’s request by now. He is in such a frenzied state of unnecessary worry that I am certain he wrote to you immediately after I gave him your name. While I would not call Professor Volkarin a proper Circle Mage by any measure, he is of respectable character, despite his field of expertise. Once you overcome his eccentricities, he can be rather charming for a Nevarran. His husband is, shall I say, entitled and more bark than bite. However, I will give him credit for his impeccable taste in fashion, he is a lovely ornament for the dear Professor, though not his equal in thought or talent. While he may vex you, I believe Monsieur Volkarin should cause you little trouble.
I urge you to take the job, my dear. I am well aware of your current state of health and I believe a leisurely assignment will do you some good as the threat that the Professor is fretting about is greatly exaggerated. You will be bored, I am sure of it, but I am sure you’ll find ways to occupy yourself and take a moment of rest.
I have taken the liberty of negotiating a fee for you with Professor Volkarin should you take this job. He is so desperate that he would have agreed to any price if for the illusion of keeping his dear husband safe. Do not worry yourself, darling, as I did not take advantage of the Professor’s fear, but I did settle on a price that would leave you with little worry about your finances for the near future.
Do write back to the Professor as soon as you can. I look forward to hearing from him of his gratitude to me for sending you his way.
Regards,
Madame Vivienne
Chief,
Take the damn Nevarra job. It’s easy money and I really want you to buy the company some fresh horses. Don’t worry about the Chargers, I’ve got it handled and have a good job lined up for us in northern Orlais. Go sit on your ass, babysit a fancy Nevarran, and let your leg recover.
We’ll miss you, but we’re all excited about the new gear you're going to buy us with the stupid amount of money you’re going to make. Rocky wants some expensive explosive powders, Longshot and Dalish are asking for new bows, Stitches wants a supply of royal elfroot and crystal grace, both Skinner and Knives want new leathers, you get the point.
Horns Up,
Cremisius Aclassi
Krem,
Agreed to the Nevarra job. Then Viv told me that both Volkarin and the husband are necromancers.
Fucking necromancers.
Still taking the job, since I hear you’ve promised the company the fresh horses and all their new kit. But just wanted to let you know that you’re an asshole.
I know you’ll take care of the boys while I’m gone, you’re a good leader.
Horns Up!
The Iron Bull
The Iron Bull took the Nevarra job at the insistence of Krem and on the earnest recommendation of Vivienne. It was a cushy, easy job that paid too well.
Emphasis on easy.
Mercenary work was not kind to his body and soon his bum ankle and worsening knee became more than just a nuisance and more of a liability. Short battles and fights were fine, but the more sustained work and the repeated fights that paid well were beginning to wear on him, ebbing away at his strength and replacing it with pain. The Iron Bull might have kept working if he only had himself to worry about, he wouldn’t mind going down in a good fight, but when his leg buckled at the wrong moment and nearly cost Grim his head, Bull decided he could no longer lead from the front. And that fucking sucked.
He was good at negotiating their contracts. Good at handling the nobility, bargaining with town mayors, and compromising with village elders. He was good at tactics, strategy, reading their opponents and predicting their movements. He was good at the boring aspects of the job and it dragged on the Iron Bull. He loved his men, but he was loving the job less.
Krem thought the Nevarra job was exactly what Bull needed. Sitting around a manor, watching someone’s husband, and flexing and making a show that Volkarin took care of what was his. Taking a job on his own without really having to do anything. Bull wanted to say no. It sounded worse than sitting behind the lines, boring, mind-numbing. But Krem insisted, Vivienne had pretty much already spoken for him, and Volkarin was really overpaying for what he was asking for.
So, the Iron Bull went to Nevarra City.
His destination was a stately manor an hour ride outside the city, arriving a week after he sent his reply to Volkarin. The architecture was classically Nevarran, it wasn’t opulent or overly large, but it was plenty big for a professor, his husband, and then some. But what really caught the Iron Bull’s eye as he rode up to the place was the extensive gardens surrounding the dark brick of the manor.
The beautifully maintained gardens were starting to bloom, awakening to the warmth of the early summer. The grounds were lush and green, plenty of trees for shade, shrubs along the walls surrounding the grounds and the house. There were paver stones cutting paths through the flowers and wrought iron benches and chairs tucked away under trees for quiet contemplation. A wide variety of colorful blossoms were gently swaying in the wind, completing the serenity of the place. With skeletons tending to them.
Right. Necromancers.
That really made Bull want to say no to the job. But Vivienne withheld that detail until after he accepted and Bull didn’t want to damage his company’s reputation by backing out of an agreement.
Bull blew out a long breath and swung off his horse as he passed through the gates surrounding the grounds. A human servant, thankfully alive, came to his side, telling him that Professor Volkarin and his husband were expecting him before leading his large mare to rest in the stables. Hefting his bag over his shoulder, the Iron Bull approached the main entrance of the manor.
The tall imposing black doors swung open before Bull could ring the bell and.
It was a skeleton. Of course.
A skeleton dressed in elegant purple and green mage robes, gold bracelets on its bone arms, and two large gems were fitted into its eye sockets. It cocked its skull to one side as if taking in the sight of the Iron Bull, its jaw clicked unnervingly.
“Hello!”
“The fuck!?”
Bull took a startled step back as the skeleton greeted him in a hissing yet happy voice, teeth clicking in excitement. His one eye was fixed on the apparently talking skeleton, but he could hear quick and purposefully footsteps coming their way from within the house. He shifted his gaze from the odd skeleton to the gentleman, Bull assumed it was Volkarin, striding through the foyer to the entrance, smiling widely at Bull.
Volkarin wasn’t a bad looking man, rather handsome honestly, in his early forties with dark hair that had strands of grey creeping in and a thin mustache. He was dressed in a crisp white shirt and green waistcoat and wearing more gold than was necessary for just being at home. His arms were laden with gold bangles, a gold collar pin sat at the base of his throat, and long fingers were adorned with bejeweled rings, though one stood out for its sheer simplicity. A plain rose gold band on his left ring finger.
“Ah! The Iron Bull! Welcome to my home,” Volkarin greeted cheerfully in a cultured accent that made Bull think of nobility, but far too welcoming, far too relaxed. His smile and eyes conveyed the pleasure of forming a new friendship, rather than meeting a mercenary he hired. “I am Professor Emmrich Volkarin of the Mourn Watch.”
“The Iron Bull, captain of the Bull’s Chargers. Nice to meet you, Professor Volkarin.”
He stepped into the foyer and held out his large hand to the Professor. Without hesitation Volkarin shook it with a firm and polite grip, strong for how thin the man was. Volkarin’s smile never diminished.
“Please, do call me Emmrich, I don’t care to stand on formalities,” the mage insisted.
Even with all the primness of his appearance, refinement of his speech, Bull believed him. So Emmrich it was.
“And I see that you’ve already met Manfred.”
Bull looked back at the skeleton, who hissed just as cheerfully as Emmrich spoke. “Manfred?”
“Oh, Manfred, you didn’t introduce yourself, did you?” Emmrich chided the skeleton fondly. “We really must work on your manners. Manfred is my assistant, a wisp of Curiosity, and an apprentice of the Mourn Watch. He’s just come back home the other day for the summer from his classes,” he told Bull as if that explained everything. It did not. “Now, do come in, I was just about to sit down for breakfast. Manfred, please take the Iron Bull’s bag and bring it to his room.”
The skeleton held out its arms expectantly and Bull hesitantly handed over his bag before following Emmrich down the hall and into a small informal breakfast room. A round table adorned with a lace tablecloth and with a vase of fresh cut flowers sat next to a large picture window that overlooked a rose garden. The walls were varnished light wood with built-in shelves lined with beautiful dinnerware and various tea sets. With the light coloring of the wood and the sun coming in through the window gave the small room an airy feeling.
Breakfast was waiting for them. Hard boiled eggs, scones, fruit, jam, and tea. No meat, Bull observed, but that wasn’t uncommon for Nevarrans. There were two plates set at the table and Emmrich pulled a third from one the shelves and fished another set of silverware and a cloth napkin from a drawer built into the wall.
“I didn’t expect you so early in the morning, otherwise I would have had a proper breakfast served in the dining room,” Emmrich apologized while he put down another place setting, speaking as if Bull was more used to formal dining settings than eating next to a campfire.
“Don’t worry about it, I got into Nevarra City late last night, spent the night there and thought I’d get an early start today,” Bull shrugged. “Anyway, I prefer informal spaces.”
“I’m glad to hear it, we usually take our meals here unless we have guests. We like the intimacy of it and it has one of the best views of the flowers during the summer,” Emmrich smiled and started to pour Bull a cup of tea. “Let me know if you need anything else for breakfast, we do eat rather light in the mornings.”
“Already ate at the inn,” Bull replied even as he took a scone and some jam.
Emmrich finally sat down, placing his napkin on his lap. “I’m afraid Dorian is still sleeping, he did come to bed late last night but allow me to fill you in on our situation.”
Bull nodded, glad to jump straight into business. He picked up his teacup, well-practiced in handling delicate china in his big hands, and took a sip. That’s when he noticed a small bowl of pineapple, cut skillfully into the shape of stars, sitting innocently on the table. Not something that often graced the tables of Nevarrans. It could be that Emmrich had acquired a taste for northern foods. Or.
“My husband, Dorian, is the son of a Tevinter magister.”
Yep. There it was. Vints.
His fee no longer felt so outrageous.
“His family has never approved of our marriage and as Dorian is an only child, he is their only viable heir. Old Tevinter families like Dorian’s are rather concerned with continuing their bloodlines and I’m afraid his parents have run out of patience regarding Dorian making his home here with me,” Emmrich explained, pensively folding his hands on the table. “I believe they will attempt to forcibly reclaim him.”
“Ok,” Bull nodded again. “That sounds about right for a magister. Have there been any attempts to grab your husband?”
“There hasn’t been anything recent, but we’ve been receiving threatening letters the last month or so, they’re in my study. I’ll show them to you after breakfast.”
“Nothing recent, but there’ve been other attempts?”
“Once. Shortly after we married, Dorian’s family was nearly successful in taking him, but I was able to thwart their plans.” Emmrich shook his head and frowned, deepening the faint lines on his face. “It’s been years now and we haven’t heard anything from them since. I can only imagine that something must have happened that has caused House Pavus to make a move.”
That name sounded familiar. Before, a lifetime ago, Bull knew several of the names of the magisters in the Magisterium and he definitely knew the significant players. He knew that Magister Pavus was once an advisor to the Archon, then he wasn’t. But Bull didn’t know the details, it wasn’t his area, his concern. Now he wished that it had been.
“Is there any way to find out?” Bull asked. “Does Dorian still have friends in Tevinter who could ask discreet questions about his family?”
“I know a detective from Dock Town in Minrathous. I already have her looking into it and she is working with the few friends Dorian trusts back in Tevinter.”
“Ok, good.” Though Bull wasn’t fully satisfied, he’d prefer to use his own network, find out the answers himself. That wasn’t what he was hired for though and he’d let Emmrich do it his way for now, but if things went south, as if often did with vints, he had his own contacts to tap. “So, you want me to act as your husband’s bodyguard until things blow over?”
“That is the idea, yes. However, I want you to know that I did not select you only because of your strength, but also because Madame Vivienne said that you are a cunning and intelligent man. You see things that others do not. I am capable in battle, but I am not used to the intrigues of Tevinter, and Dorian is, well, more flippant about his safety than I like,” Emmrich explained. “I am hoping that you’ll see House Pavus coming before something drastic happens. I would be most grateful to spare Dorian any harm.”
“I’ll do what I can, but you can’t keep anything from me that might relate to this,” Bull waved his hand absently and took a bite of his scone. Damn it was good. He said so to Emmrich’s delight.
“I’m so pleased! Manfred is learning his way around the kitchen.”
Well then.
“Is there anything else I need to know?”
Emmrich hesitated and then answered, “Dorian was brought up to abhor blood magic, he says that his family never used it as other magisters are known to do. However, when it came to trying to take Dorian …”
“Blood mages,” Bull growled.
“Inexperienced ones at least, I was able to disrupt the ritual rather easily, but I’m afraid they’ve had the benefit of time.” The Professor frowned even more deeply, making him look older.
“Shit,” Bull muttered. “Well, now I know and I can plan accordingly.”
He should’ve asked for more money.
The door opened and Bull half expected to see another skeleton, but instead a gorgeous young man entered the room. He was quite a bit younger than Emmrich, in his late twenties, and wrapped in jewel blue silk Tevinter robes, contrasting prettily against his brown complexion and thick black hair. His left shoulder was bare while the rest of his arm was covered in a sleeve, a tease of perfect skin and toned muscles. He wore just as much gold as Emmrich and had a matching rose gold band on his left ring finger.
“Ah, I see our guest has arrived. Good thing I bothered to dress this morning, it would have been an inopportune day to take my breakfast in my dressing gown,” the young man said in a crisp Tevinter accent. He appraised Bull for a second, taking in his own appearance, dressed in rough pants, harness, and not much else. “Well, I wouldn’t have been completely out of place.”
Emmrich’s frown evaporated the moment the young man walked in and it was replaced by a large smile. He rose to his feet, crossing the room to take the other man’s hands and tipped his head down to press a fleeting kiss on his lips in greeting.
“Darling, allow me to introduce you to the Iron Bull of the Bull’s Chargers and your bodyguard for the foreseeable future.”
The man gave Bull a sweeping bow, lips pulled into a polite smile that didn’t reach his silver eyes.
“Dorian Volkarin of the Mourn Watch. How do you do?”
The pretty ones were always the worst.
The Iron Bull received a tour of the manor after breakfast. Emmrich gave an enthusiastic history of the house and described the origins of the furniture in all the principal rooms. The house and furniture were Nevarran, but much of the decor and trimmings were Tevinter influence or made, suggesting Dorian’s heavy hand in it.
Dorian trailed behind Bull and Emmrich, smiling and gently interrupting his husband when the Professor’s ramblings became too long. Always pleasant.
“Professor Bauhofer was quite generous in bequeathing the house and her collection of elven artifacts to me,” Emmrich said as they walked into the parlor. “She had no living family and we were very close. She oversaw my education from when I was a boy up to my dissertation on the nature of wisps. You can imagine how pleased I was when Manfred chose her ribcage for his body, that was a wonderful day! Though I confess the house sat vacant for years after her passing, I didn’t have much use for it before getting married.”
“And where is your family estate? Do you go there often?” Bull asked, filtering out the useless, and disturbing, information coming from the Professor and filing away the important facts for later.
“Family estate?” Emmrich blinked.
“He thinks you’re nobility, amatus,” Dorian filled in with mild amusement.
“Oh!” Emmrich laughed good naturedly, caught by surprise. “Oh, no!” The laughter continued, finally tapering off after several seconds as Emmrich wiped at his eyes. “I come from a common background. My father was a butcher and my mother a cook. Dorian and I keep an apartment at the Grand Necropolis, which we do occupy frequently, but that is our only other residence.”
Emmrich’s common background surprised Bull, considering his position in the Mourn Watch, the amount of money Emmrich was paying him plus a weekly stipend, and the refinement in his manners. But he wasn’t worried about getting paid, Vivienne wouldn’t associate with Emmrich if he wasn’t well connected, wealthy, or useful. Bull fell into that third category himself.
His eye roamed the room and settled on a portrait of the couple over the fireplace mantle. They were both dressed in their respective country of origin’s wedding finery, unsmiling, posed stiffly and unnaturally together as portraits often looked. Dorian looked quite young in the painting.
“Our wedding portrait.” Emmrich followed Bull’s stare. “Our colleague, Vorgoth, painted it for us as a gift.”
“It was both thoughtful and practical, considering how much you spent on my new silk. We would’ve never been able to afford a decent artist,” Dorian commented dryly.
“I had to prioritize, darling,” Emmrich teased.
“I never said you were wrong, amatus.”
Bull looked at the two mages. “How long have you two been married?”
“Eight years,” Emmrich answered with fondness, his hand reaching out to lace his fingers with his husband’s. The younger mage’s mouth twitched, lips curling upward under his moustache.
They had been married longer than Bull anticipated, but it explained why Dorian looked so young in the painting. The younger mage couldn’t have been more than twenty or even done with his fancy education. Bull didn’t comment.
The Professor held his husband’s gaze, until Bull coughed politely. A faint pink tint colored Emmrich’s cheeks as he continued, “Well, let me show you the library. Dorian has worked hard to expand and improve our collection. We have an impressive selection of arcane subjects.”
Of course, Bull didn’t care about old books on magic or the history of the house and instead looked at every window, every entry point with a critical eye. He fiddled with the locks and tested their strength, spotted every loose windowpane, and the weakness of the entry points. It was a solid house, but there was a lot to be desired in terms of security. Though he didn’t miss the runes over each window and wondered what spell might be activated once triggered.
He was also interested in observing the Professor and his husband. Emmrich was besotted with Dorian, that much was clear. He spoke to Dorian with real warmth, calling him darling and dear with sincerity instead of the condescension that Vivienne often used. His long fingers were often brushing along his husband’s hands, cheek, bare shoulder, Emmrich took any opportunity to make contact in the gentlest of ways.
Dorian was less obvious with his spiritless charming smiles and correct words. He called Emmrich amatus, but his tone was so even that he might as well be calling Bull by that endearment. He did notice however that Dorian was often leaning into Emmrich’s touches, the blandness of his countenance melting slightly for his husband.
“I’d like to see the grounds later,” Bull said as he looked out the window at the end of a hallway on the second floor. The walls around the manor were high and solid, they looked promising, but Bull wanted to see them up close.
“It’d be my pleasure,” Emmrich perked up, his eyes shining with anticipation. “I take great pride in our gardens.”
“If you thought he was rambling before.” Dorian let out a quiet laugh, his mask breaking into something more genuine. His pretty features warmed as he gazed at his husband’s face, drawn out by Emmrich’s enthusiasm. There was no mistaking the affection in his voice.
Huh. The coldness must be reserved for Bull then. Good to know.
“But let me show you to your room first, it’s right over here,” Emmrich waved to a nearby door.
Bull frowned, this wasn’t the family wing of the house. He was on the other side of the manor from Emmrich and Dorian’s room, which wouldn’t do at all.
“This is pretty far away from your rooms,” Bull commented.
“Oh, I suppose it is,” the Professor agreed. “Do you require a room closer to ours?”
“If I’m going to do my job right.”
There was a flash of annoyance on Dorian’s face, which was quickly hidden as he schooled his expression. “We converted the spare room in that wing into a proper washroom and we certainly cannot displace Manfred from his room. I’m afraid there’s no other free rooms except in the guest wing.”
“There is one room,” Emmrich corrected slowly.
“That’s my room.”
“You rarely ever sleep in there, darling.”
The younger mage took a deep breath through his nose and jaw clenched. Impressively, he managed to sound almost civil as he insisted, “But it is my room and I do use it.”
Bull wasn’t surprised to see the veneer of Dorian’s pleasantness fading.
Emmrich took Dorian’s hand and brought it to his lips to brush a kiss on his fingers. “This arrangement is only until I know you are safe, my dear. I know it is an inconvenience, but I could never forgive myself if something happened.”
Dorian closed his silver eyes for a few seconds and forced a smile. “Right, of course, amatus.”
“Thank you for indulging me, dearest.”
“Well, considering how often you indulge me.”
“It’s my greatest pleasure.” Emmrich’s thumb ran over the knuckles of Dorian’s hand and the expression on the younger mage’s face softened.
Bull shifted awkwardly, feeling like he was seeing something he shouldn’t. So, he spoke up. “Those letters?”
Whatever moment they were having broke, though Emmrich didn’t let go of his husband’s hand. “Yes, of course. My study is this way.”
If most of the manor was Tevinter in decor, Emmrich’s study was aggressively Nevarran. Bull couldn’t remember seeing so many skulls in his life. Period. They were lined up on the shelves alongside books. On the fireplace mantle. On the windowsill. On his desk.
The only non-creepy piece of decor was a framed sketch on Dorian’s face in profile on Emmrich’s desk done in pencil. It wasn’t professionally done, but the artist had skill in capturing the little crinkles around his eye and the pull of full lips. Far more flattering than the wedding portrait. Bull tried to focus on that instead of the vertebrae on display behind him.
Oblivious of Bull’s silent distress, Emmrich picked up a stack of letters sitting on his desk and handed them to Bull. “This should be all of them.” He threw Dorian an expectant look.
“Yes, yes, that’s all of them,” Dorian sighed heavily. “Save the first two I turned to ash, but they were the same as the others.” His full lips pulled into a disgusted snarl, unable to hold back his emotions any longer. “My father could’ve at least hired more imaginative lackeys.”
Bull looked down at the letters, four in total. Each was short, to the point, and written in fluent Tevene. Bull frowned at them.
“I can translate--” Emmrich started to offer.
“I can read it.”
Your sham marriage has gone on long enough and your time as the Watcher’s concubine is over. You will return home to fulfill your duty and to face the consequences of your dishonor and perversions. Do not make us come for you.
The other letters went on in that same manner, calling Dorian disparaging names, talking about the dishonor he brought, demanding his return, and the vague threat of violence in the case of noncompliance. The paper was thick, fancy, as Bull would expect, and there was a distinct crest pressed into the wax seal that Dorian confirmed as his family’s.
“To think that my father wrote me a nine-page letter after we were married, spouting off about my supposed duty and demanding that I return to be married off to someone else! My mother wrote me nearly fifteen pages to tell me about her suffering. Now neither can be bothered to write to me themselves,” Dorian continued to fume. His anger was balanced by something a little more vulnerable as he uttered, “What kind of state must my father be in? How desperate must he be?”
“Whatever is going on with your family, they will not have you, dearest.” Emmrich’s voice was surprisingly firm and resolute, contrasting sharply with his mild and pleasant demeanor. It sent a nice tingle up Bull’s spine.
“Yes, of course,” Dorian shook his head, that moment of vulnerability gone as quickly as it came. “Besides, this cannot be serious, my father is just trying to scare me into coming back. I can’t imagine he’d want to come to Nevarra again after what Emmrich did to his men. This is just pitiful.” That sneer was back.
Bull pressed his lips and put the letters back on the desk. He didn’t know what to make of them. Not in the style of Dorian’s parents, but with their crest on the seal and on the fancy kind of paper that the nobility often used. The penmanship was elegant, but the letter was short and harsh.
Rolling his shoulders, Bull decided to concentrate on something he could fix. “Let’s go see the grounds. I want to check on those walls.”
The gardens were refreshing after the crypt that was Emmrich’s study and his employer was even more enthusiastic about them than the house itself. This time Bull didn’t mind Emmrich’s ramblings so much with the topics focused on flowers and plants, Bull thought back on his tama, who enjoyed her flowers growing next to the dormitory. She took particular pride in the climbing rose that was creeping up the wall of their building by the side door, its delicate blooms a soft pink, and perfuming the air whenever he walked by them. Seeing a similar rose bush climbing the garden wall was oddly comforting.
Dorian’s ire ebbed in the fresh air. His smile returned, but this time it was real, as Emmrich took his arm in his own as they made the walk. They really were an exceptionally handsome couple.
But nostalgia and handsome couples didn’t distract Bull from spotting any flaws in the walls that surrounded the manor’s grounds, the unlocked side gate, and the overgrown lilac bush that obscured sightlines. But Bull was pleased to see glyphs subtlety etched into the surface of the walls that shimmered green in Emmrich’s presence.
“Perhaps we should take a drive into the countryside, the landscape is quite beautiful further from the city,” Emmrich suggested as they finished their walk through the gardens.
“Amatus, you have work to do as do I. The Iron Bull isn’t here to be entertained like a guest and I’d think he’d like to see us in our routine,” Dorian told his husband.
Bull grunted in approval. Dorian was right, he wasn’t there to be treated like a guest and the sooner he could see the patterns of the household, the sooner he could find potential holes in their security and where anyone with half a brain could make an attempt in kidnapping Dorian. Though he was a little suspicious as to why Dorian was bringing that up.
“You’re right, dearest.” The Professor gave Dorian a chaste kiss on the lips. “I’ll leave you to the Iron Bull’s care then. I’ll be in my study, should you need me.”
They parted inside the manor, Emmrich towards his study upstairs and Dorian to the library on the main floor, which Bull was happy to go to as his knee began to twinge from all the walking and stairs. The library was one of the more impressive rooms of the house, it had an exceptionally tall ceiling with shelves reaching from floor to ceiling and a walkway midway up so one could access the books on the upper shelves. Where the walls weren’t covered in shelves, there were tall windows to let in plenty of light. Several tables and desks sat in the center of the room, with one that was particularly crammed with papers and books, and another with a staggering amount of Tevinter serials stacked on it. A large fireplace occupied one end of the room with a pair of plush armchairs in front of it, one with several blankets draped over it and a stack of books on the floor next to it. Bull could see why Dorian made this his workspace.
Dorian closed the library doors and immediately turned to Bull. “Well, I know you’ve been acquainted with this whole mess and as you can see, Emmrich is overreacting. I needn’t a babysitter. So, I hope we can come to an understanding.”
This was what Bull was waiting for. Crossing his arms and shifting his weight off his bad leg, he remained silent and let Dorian continue, wondering how the young mage was going to try to tempt him.
“I’ll convince Emmrich to work at the Grand Necropolis during the day, they always want him as a summer instructor, and then I will go my way and you will go your own. The city is nearby, you’ll find ample entertainment there, and there’s very little danger of Emmrich seeing you, he does rarely venture out without me. Or there’s the village a few miles away with a nice tavern with many pretty barmaids. We needn’t be in each other’s presence for an unnecessary amount of time. I will remain out of trouble, you’ll collect your pay, Emmrich will be satisfied with my safety, and everyone will be happy. Yes? Agreeable to you?”
“How often has this worked for you?” Bull lifted an eyebrow.
“Remarkably often with my father’s guards,” Dorian answered easily. “So?”
“Not happening, big guy.”
“I can easily convince Emmrich to provide you with a substantial bonus for your excellent work.”
“That’s the part that usually got your dad’s men, huh?”
“I usually had to finance the bribe myself, but now I have the benefit of a handsome and generous husband. So, we’re in an agreement?”
“Nope.”
Dorian twisted one of the gold bangles on his wrist. “How much more coin do you want?”
Bull was oddly relieved that Dorian was only offering him money. Relieved for himself and Emmrich. “I want to do the job I was hired to do,” Bull told him firmly, “which is keeping you safe.”
The pretty mage’s jaw clenched and Bull was sure he was grinding his teeth.
“I’m sure you’re right. Your old man is blowing hot air and nothing will come of this. I’ll spend a few weeks hanging around here with you, then I’ll get paid and be out of your hair. But, on the off chance that something happens, what do you want more? Me between you and your dad’s men or Emmrich?”
He must have said the right thing, or the wrong thing, because the color in Dorian’s face drained away. The mage quickly turned away, pretending to examine the shelves behind him, his fingers touching the spines of the books. There was a heavy draw to his breath and tightness to his posture. There was something more than Dorian just really not liking the thought of his husband in danger, something tangible and real behind that reaction.
Bull felt a little bad, but if he could use that emotion to keep Dorian in-line and less likely to do stupid shit, he would.
“Could I bribe you to change your assignment then?” Dorian tried instead, his back to Bull.
He didn’t respond and Dorian was quick to fill in the details.
“I do have quite a bit of my own money saved. This would remain between us, Emmrich wouldn’t know.”
Bull frowned, upset that he misread Dorian’s affection for Emmrich earlier. He knew this conversation never went anywhere good.
“Emmrich hired you to protect me. Could I hire you to protect Emmrich instead?” Dorian faced Bull, perfectly serious about his proposal. “As I said, I am sure nothing will come of this, but on the off chance my father does decide to act, nothing can happen to Emmrich.”
Oh. That was much better than what Bull was expecting. Sweet, actually. But still.
“Sorry, big guy. Your husband hired me first and I have a reputation to uphold.” He took a few steps to close the gap between them and rested his hand on Dorian’s clothed shoulder. The fabric was quality, but thin, and he could easily feel the firm muscle underneath. “If I'm doing my job right, and I always do my job right, protecting you will involve protecting Emmrich too.”
“And how do you figure that?”
“Because I doubt you’d sit around if Emmrich was in danger,” Bull said. “You’re going to be way more difficult if you think your husband is going to get hurt.”
“Well, you’re not wrong,” Dorian conceded. “Nothing can happen to Emmrich, he must be your priority.”
“You are both my priority.” Then Bull considered something. It wasn’t likely, but Bull wanted to get the mage out of whatever headspace he was twisting himself up in. “Are you the one sending the letters? Do you want me focusing on the Professor so you can stage your own kidnapping?”
With the bookshelf to his back, Dorian had no space to step away from Bull, but he could feel the mage physically withdraw at the suggestion. He let his hand fall off that perfect shoulder.
“Maker’s breath! My own kidnapping!?” Dorian shook his head furiously. “Why would you even think that?” He crossed his arms, “I’d like to think I would come up with something more creative than sending letters calling myself a concubine.”
Letting out a low laugh, Bull could easily imagine that the letters wouldn’t have been nearly dramatic enough for Dorian’s tastes. “It’s happened more than a few times on a job, maybe ten, a dozen times.”
Dorian’s silver eyes went wide, his jaw dropping. “But why?”
Bull shrugged. “To get out of an unhappy marriage, a way to draw attention, sometimes it’s some form of revenge. It’s usually Orlesians.”
Dorian looked horrified. “I’d never do something like that to Emmrich! He’s already worried sick over this feeble attempt! Do people actually do this?”
“Me and my men were once hired by a couple who were both plotting their own kidnappings. That job was a fucking mess.”
The young mage stared at him and shook his head again. “Well,” Dorian waved to the armchairs near the fireplace, “now you’ll have to tell me about it.”
Bull took the chair, happy to take the weight off his leg, and told Dorian the story.
The day ended late for Bull. He had spent time with Dorian in the library, telling him stories of his more interesting jobs, of which there was no shortage of. Then, after the ache in his leg subsided, Bull walked around the house and its grounds on his own, making mental notes of where they’d need to tighten security.
Fix the windowpanes and locks. Reinforce the doors. Put more wards along the garden walls. Trim back the trees and shrubs to better the sightlines. Shit that just needed to get done.
After he dined with Emmrich and Dorian in the evening, he walked the grounds again. This time looking at the house in the darkness and mapping all the points for entry he’d use if he meant to cause the couple harm. He made more mental notes about drawing the curtains earlier in the afternoon and for Manfred to stop peeking out the windows all the damn time, giving away Emmrich’s location.
He finally settled into his room, Dorian’s bedchamber, after indulging in a bath in the washroom. The bedroom had been hastily cleaned earlier that day, the smell of fresh soap hung in the air, though Dorian’s scent and the floral perfume he wore stubbornly clung to the room. He immediately noticed the secret passage between Dorian’s room and the master suite, a wood panel in the wall jutted out a bit and Bull easily spotted the hinges. A good thing for him to have access to in the case of an emergency.
His bag was already brought over from the guest wing and it didn’t take Bull long to unpack his things. He arranged his neatly folded clothes on top of a chest of drawers and laid out his armor next to it. His horn balm, shaving kit, and bar of soap ended up on a vanity where a basin and pitcher of water were waiting for him. His battleaxe was propped up against the wall next to the bed within easy reach and his boots lined up along the bedside so Bull could quickly shove his feet in if necessary. The repair kit for his weapons was laid out on an empty table alongside a variety of knives he usually kept on his person.
Looking around the bedroom, Bull could easily see that Dorian used it mostly as a closet and a study. There was a large four post bed, made up with thick blankets and fluffy pillows, but no dip in the mattress from a person sleeping in it regularly and a layer of dust covered the headboard that the servants missed earlier. There were two tall wardrobes that were filled to the brink with high quality clothes and accessories of all colors, fabrics, and trimmings. A couple chests of drawers were equally crammed with clothes. A comfortable sofa sat next to the large window overlooking the grounds, with several blankets draped over the back and an abundance of throw pillows on it that all smelled strongly of Dorian. There was a tall liquor cabinet with expensive looking bottles of alcohol and wine on display. And a large desk and crammed bookshelves built around it dominated one wall. Its surface was tidied but the desk was well used with several ink wells and worn pens lined up on it, and scratches and ink blotches covering the desktop.
Sitting on the bed, Bull noticed a copy of Hard in Hightown on the nightstand. He grabbed it for a bit of bedtime reading, but he became much more interested in the note that fluttered from between the pages. Especially as he noticed his name in distinct and elegant penmanship.
My Dearest,
I’m writing this as I don’t know if you are listening to me on the other side of the door, you do have a talent for selective hearing at times. I am sorry that you did not take me at my word when I spoke of hiring a bodyguard for your protection, but I believe I was being perfectly serious in our discussion. The Iron Bull comes highly recommended by Madame Vivienne, which I know holds little weight for you, but she assures me of his professionalism, strength, and intellect. While I also disagree with her on many things, in this instance I am willing to heed her advice.
I know that you are a powerful mage and more than capable of defending yourself, but please understand my concerns, darling. I still cannot forgive myself for failing you in those early days of our marriage, the terror of that event still haunts me to this day. I am now again faced with a similar threat upon your person and I cannot live with myself if I do not do everything I can to protect you. I will not fail you again, dearest.
I understand if you wish to remain in your bedchamber for the rest of the night, but please allow Manfred to bring you dinner. He was quite distressed that you did not open the door for both lunch and tea.
Your Loving Amatus
On the back of the letter was a short response.
Amatus, you have never failed me, I won’t tolerate you saying that to me again. I’ll be down for dinner, I would not want to cause Manfred nor you any undue alarm. Love, Your Dearest.
Bull put the letter back into the book and set it down on the nightstand. He decided to forgo reading that night and slid in between the covers to get some sleep. He found the sheets to be made of soft silk and the mattress was deliciously comfortable, but it smelled slightly stale and dusty, not a hint of Dorian or his perfume.
Blowing out the candle on the nightstand, Bull stared into the darkness of the room. Wondering what the hell he was doing in Nevarra with two death mages.