Yoooo I wrote a thing for the first time in forever. It isn’t proofread and is likely garbage, but I was having feelings and somehow Bull and Liahra just kinda happened as I was trying to get the feelings out, so here I guess ^^
It was cold. The bite in the night air did little to alleviate the weight she felt settled on her chest, a dull ache that seemed to only grow with each passing day.
Even now.
Even here.
She had taken the middle watch as was her custom – favoring to look upon the stars as she so frequently did – but even they could offer little comfort as they glistened through the branches. It seemed there was seldom any comfort to be found of late.
The trees seemed to press in around her, and she was reminded of all that was lost – all that would continue to be lost. She was drowning in the sea of spirits that echoed in this place, keenly felt the weight of the world on her shoulders.
What would happen if she failed.
How large her problems felt in this solemn silence, alone in a world that seemed bent on crushing her spirit.
Why me? She couldn't help but wonder, seeking some sort of guidance in the quiet heavens. It was hard to breathe. The tears she hadn't realized she was holding back fell down her cheeks unbidden, crying out for release... for peace. They were quickly erased by nimble fingers as she heard the stirring of a tent flap from somewhere behind.
“Hey, boss,” Bull's voice cut through the silence like a knife, still husky with the timbre of sleep. She was reminded that this was not the place – not the time for such weighty thoughts and feelings. She had to be strong.
“Bull,” She turned with a bright smile, tilting her head just so as she regarded him. She could feel rather than see his assessing gaze in the darkness. “You are welcome to sleep longer. I find the peace out here quite relaxing.” He remained for a beat before grunting noncommittally and shuffling to the dying embers of the fire she had left neglected.
“I'm up now,” he responded, poking at the remnants of the pit in the hopes of rekindling a flame. “Already got more sleep than I'm used to.” He cleared his throat and leaned down toward the embers, blowing gently, grunting in satisfaction when they responded with a flicker of heat and flame.
“Sleep isn't a bad thing to have more of,” she said gently, turning her head from the sudden light.
“Says the woman who's denying it for herself,” he chuckled before falling silent for a pregnant moment. “Need me to go?” The words were weighted with more, damn him. Somehow he always knew. Ben Hassrath training, most likely. It was moments like this she almost regretted bringing him along... but what harm could come of such an innocent query? Did he even know she recognized the meaning behind such a question?
Do you need to be alone? That is what he was asking, and she so desperately wanted to say yes, but... she didn't. Not really.
Please don't leave me alone.
“No,” she said, her voice hardly a whisper in the dark, “no.” The tears were pricking at her eyes again, white hot. She blinked against the sting, trying to keep them contained. She would not break. Not now. Not with him right there, and damn it she could feel him watching. She almost turned to tell him to go, that she had changed her mind, but the words died on her tongue.
Don't leave me alone.
“Kinda spooky out here, huh?” he asked, breaking the strange tension. She was startled for a moment.
“What?”
“All the trees. The silence. Doesn't sit right.”
She hummed in agreement. “Graveyards tend to be that way, yes. The veil is thin here – as it is in so many places that have seen such suffering.”
Bull grunted. “Channeling your inner Solas, are you?” The amusement that colored his words brought a small smile to her lips.
“Creators help us. Now there will be two.” The words sat between them for a moment before they both burst into laughter.
“Shit,” he managed between chuckles, “We're screwed.”
Liahra collapsed in a fit of giggles. “And back in Skyhold he just woke with his ears on fire, I'm sure.”
“Or he's so wrapped up in Aluriel he didn't even notice,” he said with a laugh, ducking the pinecone she threw his way.
“You would go there,” she shot back, though the smile still sat upon her lips. She looked over his shoulder, catching his shrug as he continued to poke at the fire and stifled a yawn. “You are tired.” She said, shuffling in the dirt until she faced him. He gave her a dry look, raising his brow.
“I'm good, boss. I'm not the one avoiding it.”
There was the assessing look again. She felt her chest constrict and fought the urge to turn back, to look away and hide. It would reveal more than she was willing to show. She summoned a smile.
“I'm good too,” she tossed the words carelessly, hoping he would fall for it.
He didn't. He never did.
“Bullshit,” he said, turning his gaze back to the fire. She felt a lance right through her heart, and she struggled to contain the stricken look she felt coming.
“Yeah, well, what do you know?” she snapped, instantly feeling shame coloring her face as soon as the words left her lips.
“Must be lonely,” he said, unfazed.
“What?” she said again, slightly breathless. Her chest only grew tighter with every moment she fought back the tears. Oh she wanted to break... but she couldn't.
“Carrying the burden you have to carry. World's all fucked up and looking to you to fix it.” He pinned her with a look that pierced right through the fragile armor she had constructed. She struggled for breath, opening and closing her mouth in search of a retort.
“It is,” she finally managed to say, a choked whisper that was so apart from her she wondered if she had said it at all. “But it doesn't matter,” she said with more conviction, turning her face away from where he sat. There was silence again for another long moment, the only reprieve the occasional crackling of the fire.
“Why?” he asked, voice soft. It caught her off guard, both question and tone. She looked back to find his eye upon her face, something she couldn't identify lingering there. The draw she felt to him seemed to intensify in that moment, and she wanted nothing more than to go to him, to give in to that temptation and let herself forget what she was - who she was - even if only for a time.
Even if he didn't feel it too.
“Why?” She repeated the question, voice tentative.
“Why doesn't it matter?”
“Because,” she whispered, pained, grimacing at how small she sounded. “I have to be strong. I can't break... not when-” She closed her eyes, sucked in a shallow breath as the tears began to roll down her cheeks. She wrapped her arms around herself and tried to fight it, tried to fight the feelings that threatened to crush her. “I can't,” the words were broken, disjointed.
Please.
She hadn't even heard him move, and yet he was there, enfolding her in strong arms. He was warm and solid, a bulwark to protect her from the tides that tried to pull her under, and it was all she needed to fall apart. A sob tore its way from her throat, and then the tears came in earnest. She couldn't stop them even if she had tried.
“I can't,” she said again, pleading for something she didn't have a name for, releasing the anguish she had carried for so long... alone. “I can't.”
“I know,” he soothed, “Let go.” He cradled her closer to his chest, and she could feel how she shook in his arms, feel the damp of his skin where her tears had touched. He held her tightly; she could almost pretend the world didn't exist, that her problems were a distant nightmare. There was only this. She could just be, and he would let her break. She felt safe.
Safe.
It prompted another wave of emotion that she released into him, unable to hold back. She clutched him as if he was her lifeline, and in that moment he was. He held her all the while, entangling his fingers in her hair as her sobs died down and her shaking ceased. She focused on the beating of his heart beneath her fingers, let the rhythm steady and ground her. She breathed. She existed.
After a time – minutes, hours, she had no way of knowing – she flattened her palm against his heartbeat and glanced up. That same inscrutable look was in his eye as before and her other hand trailed up, tracing his scars with tender fingers. She wondered how he got them, thought on what his time as a Ben-Hassrath must have been like, if he ever broke as she just had. If anyone had ever let him.
“It must be lonely,” she whispered before catching the words, and wishing she could take them back. His arms tightened around her.
“It is.”
It was an hour past Dorian's watch, but he suspected they didn't know. And if he watched from his tent as they held each other, as she drifted off in Bull's arms... well, he didn't say a word. And if he noticed the way Bull looked at her as he carried her to her tent as gently as a babe, well he didn't say anything about that either.
They were broken souls seeking solace, and if he hoped they would find it in each other... that was just another thing about which he would not breathe a word.
