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“Stop poking it!”
“I'm not 'poking' it.”
“You are! You're making it worse!” Max smacked his brother's hand away. “Quit squirming and let me see.”
Tobias shrugged out of his plate armor, turning away defensively. “It's nothing. Just a flesh wound.”
“You are standing in blood. Let me see it!” Max took his brother by both arms and forcibly turned him, pushing him down onto a crate by both shoulders. He tore Toby's shirt open, sidling closer to get a better look at the injury.
Tobias stared for a moment; eyes wide. He sighed. “Maxwell, that was my best tunic.”
Max threw up his hands, incredulous. “Then don't wear it under your armor. Now stop whining and hold still.”
“Whining?” Tobias sounded personally offended by the notion. “I am not – ah! Max, ouch.”
“Sorry.” Max winced sympathetically. He blew a tuft of hair out of his eyes, struggling to steady his hands. The wound was only around three inches in length, but it looked deep. The archer bit his lip, tearing a strip of cloth from his own undershirt. “We fell pretty far. It'll take a few minutes for the others to catch up with us. They have the medical supplies, and I don't want you bleeding to death.”
“You are blowing this quite out of proportion, my dear. This is hardly-” Tobias broke off, hissing when Max pressed the make-shift compress to his wound. The color drained from his face, and he gripped the edge of the crate underneath him with white-knuckled fingers.
“...you were saying?”
His brother squeezed his eyes shut, looking far too pale. “Point taken.”
“Whoa, whoa, no.” Max shook him, alarmed. “We're not doing this. You are not going to pass out on me.”
Tobias released an unsteady breath, still without opening his eyes. His words had a faint, thin quality to them. “Don't be daft. A gentleman does not simply pass out, Maxwell.”
“Last time I checked, gentleman back home didn't get blindsided and stabbed, either. Care to explain that for me?”
To Max's relief, Tobias blinked his eyes open at long last, releasing an uncharacteristic groan. “I'll never live this down, will I?”
“I should think not, after all of the lectures you've given me. 'Be more careful, Maxwell. You're a target, Maxwell. Don't get choked to death by a warrior again, Maxwell.' You're one to talk! How did that guy get the drop on you? What were you even doing?”
Tobias, at least, had the decency to look sheepish. “I... may have been a bit distracted.”
“Really? You don't say. What were that assailant's words again, Toby? Refresh my memory. Oh, yes, that's right! 'Take out that warrior.' What part of that was unclear?”
“All right. You've made your point. I'd prefer to talk about this later, when I'm significantly less muzzy-headed, if you don't mind.” Tobias clenched his jaw, face drawn with pain. The amount of blood gushing between Max's fingers alarmed him. He pressed harder on the wound, forcing down a wave of panic.
“Shit.” Max glanced back above their heads anxiously. “Where the hell are they?”
“We fell pretty far, you said that yourself. It'll...take a moment. For them to catch up.” Tobias was leaning heavily against the wall. His words came slow. Halting.
The wooden bridge Max and Toby ended up on in their party's last skirmish was old and overtaken by dry rot. Toby's heavy plate armor was too much for it to handle. When the slats broke away and dumped them back on the previous level of the cavern, it should have come as no surprise.
Max bumped his head on the way down. It wasn't serious; just enough of a hindrance to annoy him, and he scoffed, blinking the blood out of his eyes for what felt like the twentieth time. He swiped at his forehead with his sleeve, struggling to stop his hands from shaking as he pressed them back to Tobias's wound.
“You're hurt.” Tobias tried to sit up, but Max pushed him back down, scowling.
“It's just a scratch. You're the one we need to take care of. You're bleeding too much. Why did you have to take the knife out of your wound? Don't pull the knife out, everyone knows that!”
“I didn't, dear heart. The rogue did. If only I'd had the foresight, I'd have asked him to put it back in,” Tobias muttered, tone dry. That he could muster up even the faintest modicum of sarcasm was a good sign. That might have comforted Max, if he hadn't been so frightened of the ever-growing pool of blood beneath their feet.
Max couldn't just sit here trembling, like an idiot. He had to do something.
They couldn't depend on the others finding them in time. Max had no idea where they were. What he did know was that Tobias always kept a needle and thread in his pack, 'just in case.' Whether the 'just in case' was meant to be a wardrobe malfunction, or an emergency wound stitching, was anyone's guess.
Whatever the case, Max knew what he had to do with them now. Even just the thought made him want to throw up. It was a terrible idea. He was no healer. The field medicine he'd been taught was rudimentary at best. But the alternative...
The archer steeled his resolve, snatching Toby's pack off the floor. He kept one hand pressed to the wound, rummaging around in the bag until he found what he was looking for.
“Don't fret. The others will find us, and I'll be right as rain.” Toby placed one bloody hand over Max's. He was making a valiant effort, but he was fading fast.
If Max was going to act, it had to be now.
He met his brother's eyes, removing his hands before placing both of Toby's over the wound. “I need you to keep pressure on that for me, okay?”
Tobias blinked dazedly. After what seemed like an eternity, he nodded. Max watched, tense, as his brother pressed both hands over the wound with a wince, tipping his head back against the wall.
He needed to hurry.
Luckily, Toby also carried a flask of strong Antivan liquor. The archer snatched it up, soaking a clean drying cloth in alcohol. He then swiped it over the needle, hoping that would sterilize his supplies. The last thing they needed was for the wound to go septic before a proper medic treated it.
Tobias watched him with bleary eyes. “W-What in blazes are you doing?”
Max ripped a leather strap from his own armor, folding it over itself until it was a suitable thickness.
“Closing your wound. Here, you'll have to bite down on this.”
Tobias blanched, shrinking way from Max. It tore his heart out, but if given a choice between, 'stitch your brother's wound shut,' and 'watch him die,’ the former was a clear winner.
“Don't worry. I've watched the surgeons do this at Haven.” Max forced back every emotion that threatened to break through. His voice was solid steel. “Do you trust me?”
Toby's expression calmed. The fear was still there, barely held in check, but he swallowed hard, taking the strap from Max with shaking hands. “If I should do something untoward, say...scream, cry, or otherwise make a spectacle of myself...”
Max smiled, swallowing bile. He struggled to keep his lips from trembling. Steady, now. Steady. “I won't hold it against you. And I'll try to be quick. I promise.”
Toby shoved the gag into his mouth, bracing both hands against the wall.
Max focused only on the task at hand. He didn't dare think about anything else. Maker, he couldn't screw this up.
Max set to work with methodical precision, tearing the rest of Toby's tunic and swiping his make-shift antiseptic cloth over the wound. The warrior stiffened, flinching as the needle plunged into his flesh, but he didn't pull away. He stayed hunched against the wall. Rigid. Eyes screwed shut.
Tobias tried not to cry out, that much was plain. But eventually, even that much effort wasn't enough. Toby's cries grew louder. Sharper. Agonized. And they filtered around the gag, echoing in Max's head until they were all he could hear. His brother's hands were curled into fists. He jerked once or twice, jostling Max's work and forcing him to stop what he was doing to hush his brother. Hold him still.
Shh, Max would murmur, raw. Eyes burning. Almost done. You're doing great...
By the time Max finished, Toby was shaking like a leaf. When he glanced up, his eyes were glistening. Barely tracking and clouded by tears.
Max froze, blood congealing like ice.
“It's okay.” He wrapped both arms around his brother, careful to avoid the wound. “You're okay.”
Tobias spit out the gag. He bit down hard on his lip. Dug his fingernails into his palms as Max watched, incredulous.
He was trying to stay awake.
That sodding blighter. That absolute shit.
Toby’s eyes fluttered, lingering over Max. Worrying over him, despite everything.
Max took his hand. Uncurled his brother’s fist. “Stop.”
Tobias shook his head, defiant.
“Stop it,” Max bit out, the words brittle. He took a breath. Softened his tone. “You can sleep. It's okay.”
Tobias heaved a frustrated sob. Clearly, he objected, but he'd lost a lot of blood, and he was, after all, only human. He slumped against Max, squeezing his hand.
“I... l-love you...”
His brother always made a point to say those words to Max. Every day.
Max laughed, a touch hysterically. He pressed their foreheads together, kissing Toby's gently. “And I you. Maker, I love you.”
Don’t leave me, Max didn’t say. Please, don’t go.
Tobias's breath caught. His face screwed up as he pressed closer to Max, as if he were in pain. But there was no mistaking the twin tracks of moisture, streaking down his cheeks.
I love you.
It was only then Max realized this was the first time he'd ever said it back.
He had no idea how much time passed as he sat there, staring blankly at the wall. Long after Tobias's breathing evened out and he slumped against him, boneless. Eventually, he became aware of footsteps. Armored footsteps, thundering toward them.
“Herald? Tobias?”
His lips moved, but Max still couldn't feel them, numb as they were. Cold, and bloodless. “In here.”
His companions thundered into the room with their weapons drawn, clearly expecting a fight. Instead, they found Max and Toby, sitting on a bloodstained, wooden crate, both covered in gore.
The party froze, for a telling moment that may as well have been an eternity.
“I did what I could, Solas, but I'll need you to have a look.” Max knew his own voice was off. Sounded it, even to him.
His companions exchanged a glance.
At some point, someone decided this was as defensible a place as any to set camp. Tobias was taken away, to be fussed over by Solas and Cassandra, presumably. After they'd pried Max off him, of course.
He sat alone on the crate, gazing into the pool of blood.
After some time, The Iron Bull approached. He knelt in front of Max, taking his hand.
"Let me take that from you, Boss."
Max blinked down at himself. He was still clutching the needle and thread – he hadn’t realized. So hard, his knuckles were white.
The archer released his grip wordlessly. After a minute or two, Iron Bull broke the silence.
“You did good.”
Max startled. He jerked his head up.
The dam was starting to break. His lip quivered.
“Yeah?”
Bull smiled – more gently than Max thought he’d ever seen. “Yeah.” One massive hand touched his shoulder. Soft, almost tender. “The blade hit an artery. He'd have bled out before we got to him.”
Max choked, wrapping both arms tightly around himself.
Iron Bull reached for him. Pulled him off the crate. Slowly, as if to give him time to say no. “This okay?”
Max nodded jerkily. His vision blurred, and when the first sob threatened to burst forth, he buried himself in Bull's chest, and let it come.
Max cleaned up as best he could, making his way to a stream just outside the cave entrance. He scrubbed at the blood on his arms until the skin was red and raw, then sat on the shore for another hour, struggling to come to terms with the fact that his entire team had been present while he sobbed himself into oblivion in The Iron Bull's arms. Like an idiot.
Max couldn't have felt more awkward about it, but no one said anything as he made his way back in, and to Toby's bedside. Bull brushed his shoulder as he passed.
Max just nodded back and hoped he wasn't blushing.
Tobias lay on a cot they'd assembled from their camping supplies, covered from the waist down. His torso was wrapped in clean bandages, and he was pale, though he'd gained a bit of color to his cheeks. That was nice. The knot in Max's chest loosened a bit.
“How is he?” Max asked, approaching Solas.
“The wound looks good. You did well with the stitches. So long as we watch him for infection, and keep it dressed, I don't foresee any further problems. He'll be weak for a while. We'll have to stay before relocating him to Haven, just while he gains his strength back. At least a day or two.”
Max heaved a shaky breath, collapsing into a chair. “Thank the Maker. I was afraid I'd done more harm than good.”
Solas placed a hand on Max's shoulder. “You saved his life. There can be no question of that. I'll leave you alone to gain your bearings.” The elf smiled softly, a twinkle in his eye.
Solas left him to his thoughts. Max could hear the others moving around behind him. Cassandra had built a fire, and someone had ventured out into the forest to catch their dinner. He could smell the meat roasting. Eventually, that combined with the warmth from the fire had him dozing in his chair.
Something touched his hand, and he sat bolt upright. Tobias was staring at him, eyes half-lidded.
“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you.” His voice was raspy and thick, but he was coherent. Alive.
Max heaved a full body sigh, threading their fingers together. “You frightened me all right. How do you feel?”
“Dreadful, thanks for asking.” Tobias frowned. “You look terrible. Have you not slept?”
Max laughed, a touch hysterically. “Oh, I'm great. Just…tearing my hair out, worrying about you. Plenty of time to sleep. I am the picture of well rested.”
Tobias snorted. “Your…glibness, does you credit.”
Max sighed. He squeezed Toby’s hand tighter. Held it to his forehead for a telling moment before lowering it, gently. “What's the big idea? I thought gentlemen didn't pass out.”
Tobias's cheeks colored. “They don't. Clearly, however, I am a warrior who got blind-sided and stabbed.”
Max raised an eyebrow. “I'm going to want that story, you know.”
Before Tobias could answer properly, Cassandra approached from behind them, handing Max a plate of food.
“You must keep your strength up.” She turned her attention to Tobias. “Good to see you still live.”
“Likewise, milady. That last battle got a bit...harrowing.”
Cassandra's face soured at the 'milady.' She pointed a stern finger at Max. “And you—eat. I'll have something light for your hapless brother later.” The Seeker favored the siblings with a look that was almost fond before stalking off toward the fire, purpose in her step.
Tobias turned his head to watch her. “Extraordinary, isn't she?”
“I suppose.” Max swallowed a bite of meat, thrown by the subject change. He narrowed his eyes, regarding Toby with budding suspicion. His brother had been making subtle comments like that about the warrior, of late.
Come to think of it, Cassandra had been right over Max's shoulder, fighting off three assailants when Tobias was...
“Maker's breath.”
Tobias stiffened. “What?”
“You were watching Cassandra! That's why you got hit.”
Tobias didn't flinch, but he did adopt a carefully blank expression, which was telling, in and of itself.
Max dropped his plate on the table next to them, dinner all but forgotten. “It is, isn't it?”
“Shh!” Tobias hissed. “Not so loudly.”
“You do realize she'd destroy you if she ever found out?”
Tobias's face lost whatever color it had gained. He narrowed his eyes. “But she won't. You won't tell anyone.”
“Oh, I'm going to tell everyone.” His brother was pining. Like a lovesick idiot. “This is amazing.”
“I aim to serve,” Tobias dead-panned.
“You absolute moron.” Max bent over double, voice strangled with laughter.
“You're one to talk.”
“Huh?” Max blinked. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, come now, Maxwell. Don't think I haven't noticed you making eyes at The Iron Bull of late.”
It was Max's turn to blush. “I don't know what you're talking about.”
As luck would have it, the qunari happened to glance their way, that very moment. He threw Maxwell a lop-sided grin, that, had he been standing, would have left him weak in the knees. As it was, his breath caught, and he looked away.
Tobias raised an eyebrow.
Max sighed. “Okay, fine. I won't tell if you don't.”
“You drive a hard bargain.” His brother smirked, though it turned into a wince as he shifted his weight under the covers.
Max jolted. “You okay? Can I get you anything?”
Toby tried to push himself up with a grimace. “I wouldn't mind a drink of water.”
Max perched on the edge of the cot, slipping an arm behind Toby's back. Once his brother was finished and Max had him settled, he pulled the covers back far enough to have a look at his dressings. No fresh bloodstains, and the bandages hadn't come loose.
Good. Max straightened the blankets again, lifting them just below his brother's arms. When he glanced back up, Tobias was staring.
“I've put you through quite the ordeal."
Max smiled. It felt weak, even to him. “I'm fine. Besides, haven't we got this backwards? I'm supposed to be fussing over you. Are you in any pain? Solas did what he could, but I don't think we have much for it.”
Tobias wrinkled his nose. “It's manageable. I wouldn't be alive at all, if not for you. My memory is a bit...fuzzy toward the end, but I know what you did for me. You saved my life, Max.”
“I didn't have a choice. What was I supposed to do, watch you bleed to death?”
His brother gave him a funny look – one that seemed oddly subdued.
“Which, for the record, wasn’t an option,” Max ground, firmly. “Whatever misguided guilt you might have about our childhood, and any events thereof.”
Tobias raised a hand in surrender, though he couldn't lift it far off the mattress. “I didn't say anything.”
“You didn't have to.”
His brother huffed. It was his turn to avert his gaze. “I'm working on it.”
“You'd better be.” Max scowled, shaking his head. “That said, are we just...not gonna talk about this?”
Tobias looked genuinely perplexed. “Talk about what?”
“I, uh…in case it wasn’t already clear…prefer the company of men.” Max looked away, unsure if he wanted to see the expression he would find.
To his surprise, Tobias actually laughed at him. "Oh, I'm sorry, was that supposed to be a secret?"
“You…” Max stared. “You knew?”
“Dear heart, I don't think there's anyone back home who doesn't know.”
Max was increasingly skeptical. “Even father?”
Tobias snorted. “How do you think you got away with all those dalliances you thought you were subtle about?”
“But...” That didn't make any sense. There was no one more concerned about image than Bann Jaxson Trevelyan. And his youngest son, sneaking around with other men? He would never have allowed it.
Why had he allowed it?
“I was convinced he'd disown me if he ever found out.”
“I suppose that shouldn't surprise me.” Tobias gazed up at him, something pensive in his gaze. “He always was a good deal harder on you. He never said it, but I think that in the end, he deeply regretted that. I meant what I said before, Max. Our parents were worried sick after the Conclave. I’d never seen them like that. One would think they were almost…human.”
Max snorted, with a measure of derision that left him taken aback.
Tobias grew quiet. Fiddled with a stray thread on one of the blankets. “I've…been meaning to ask you something.”
Maxwell nodded warily. “Go ahead.”
His brother shifted uncomfortably. “Did father ever...was he ever...”
Max raised an eyebrow, unsettled by his brother’s uncharacteristic loss for words. “Ever…what? Ever anything but a callous asshole?”
“Did…” The words exploded out of Tobias, hurried, desperate. “Did he hit you?”
Max froze. He could feel his walls slamming back into place.
“You don't have to answer that.” Tobias slammed his mouth shut, cheeks reddening with shame. “I’ve no right to ask.”
A secret, ugly part of Max, one he truly thought he'd put behind him, reared its bestial head. Suddenly, he wanted Tobias to know. Wanted the world to know how Bann Trevelyan ruled his lands and his sons…
…with an iron fist.
Max’s words were flat. “He didn't beat me on the regular, if that's what you're asking.”
Tobias’s face darkened. “But it has happened.”
Max snorted. "Once, he backhanded me so hard, I could see the impression from his signet ring. You and Will weren't there. You were out on that survey when I was sixteen." Max sneered, a bitter smile. "And I got out of going to that gala he was forcing me to host. Can't be right for suitable company with a bruise on your cheek."
Tobias squeezed his eyes shut. He looked ill, if not entirely surprised.
“He implied as much, just before I left. He insisted I take a company of our own men with me, even after I'd found a suitable company of mercenaries. I may have been the one who spear-headed plans to go after you, but I wasn't the only one who wanted it.”
Somehow, even just the faint possibility that his father felt guilty about the way he'd treated Max sent an ugly surge of satisfaction coursing through him.
Max shrugged, avoiding Toby’s eyes. “It never happened again. At the time, I almost wished it would. Anything was better than feeling like I didn't exist.”
“I knew he'd hurt you. I just never realized how deeply. I'm sorry.” Toby’s face crumpled. His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat, rubbing his eyes frantically. He turned away, but not before Max saw the tears gathering beneath. “I'm so sorry.”
Oh, no.
“It's not your fault!” Max back-pedaled so fast, he nearly launched himself off the bed. “I don't blame you.”
“You should. Deep down, I think I knew. Maybe I could have done something. I don't know.”
Max pulled his brother's head into his lap, stunned speechless. He'd never seen Tobias cry unless you counted a few hours ago, after the stitching. Maker, it was terrible.
He had to make it stop.
Max petted his brother’s head, utterly at a loss, and more than a little panicked. “This is why I never told you. I shouldn't have said anything.”
“No, I want to know. Don’t keep things like this from me, Maxwell, not for my sake.” Tobias shook his head, swiping at the tears on his cheeks angrily. “My wounds have weakened me. I'm sorry. I should never have let you see me like this.”
Max tightened his arms around Toby. “I... no. I'm glad you did. I might bottle things up, but you're ten times worse.”
Tobias released a watery chuckle. “I know. But I promised you I’d try, and I am, Maxwell. I am, I swear.”
The archer looked away, eyes burning. They had to stop doing this to themselves. Max couldn't change the past. Neither could Toby.
...or father. He blinked at the realization, startled.
It still didn't erase the things Bann Trevelyan had done. But, if he didn't expect his brother to change the past, how could he want his parents to?
An apology might be nice. They'd made quite a mess of things. Max was emotionally crippled, Tobias wasn't much better off, and Wilhelm...who even knew what was going on in his eldest brother's head. Max had never considered that before, but it was an interesting thought.
The archer cleared his throat, wiping an arm over his eyes.
“Okay, fuck this. And fuck you. I...” The words were stuck again. Caught – like barbs on his tongue. Max defied them, this time. Ripped them from his throat. “...I love you.”
They were hushed, choked, but he'd done it. He'd said them.
Tobias released a shaky breath. “You said that before, too.”
It was Max’s turn to drop his eyes, in shame. “I'm...sorry. It took so long.”
“Don't be.” Toby looked happier than he'd seen him in a long time. Max realized then, just what withholding the words had done. “Now, lie with me. I'm tired, and you look ready to drop.”
Max nearly protested. There were a million other things he should be doing. He still needed to send a raven to Leliana. Help plan their next move, for when Tobias was mobile again.
But he was tired. His eyes were heavy, and soon they'd start to cross with exhaustion. Max bit his lip, though deep down, he knew he'd lost the fight. He was already reaching down to unlace his boots.
“I don't want to hurt you.”
“You won't. Maaaaaax, it's cold here. Keep me warm.” Tobias all but whined as he sunk further into the covers, scooting over to give him more room.
Max laughed, startled. Sometimes, he still couldn't believe how free his brother was with his affections, now. He kicked his boots off, sliding under the blankets. He was careful to lie on the opposite side of Toby’s wound, for fear of jostling it.
Tobias burrowed closer to Max, threw an arm around him, and in seconds, his breathing had evened out, and he'd dropped off to sleep.
Max scoffed. Even injured, it usually took him a blood sacrifice and ten pounds of sedative to nod off, but Tobias made it look easy. He brushed the hair from his forehead, his smile fond.
They hadn't grown up like a normal pair of brothers. There were no nighttime jaunts around the keep. No hapless adventures outside. No sleepovers, or ghost stories. No crawling into each other’s beds when they were afraid.
It was enough to know they had each other now, Max thought, resting his cheek in Toby’s hair. They had each other; whatever terrors life may bring.