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He doesn’t want Lavellan to see it.
They’ve already had a long, hard day; around mid-afternoon they’d stumbled across a Rift crawling with particularly nasty demons--Terrors and Arcane horrors and the like-- and Bull knows that Lavellan is thoroughly drained from closing that breach, especially after the arduous fight with the Fade-spawn. Not to mention that they’d learned of a young Elven teenager who’d left his Clan on some sort of quest and was now missed terribly by his sister. They’d agreed to look for him, but the whole party knew that the odds of finding him alive and unharmed were slim.
Those kinds of things wore down on the young Inquisitor, kept him burdened with worry and anxiety for the ones he vowed to protect and help, and Bull--as much as he wished he could--was unable to shoulder all those burdens for the young man he loved..
And then, to top it all off, they’d found the camp.
Small, nothing more than a blue canvas lean-to and a couple crates of supplies, the site no more than a few weeks old judging by the state of things. Lavellan is above the rest of them, standing on the ruined remains of a large stone arch and fiddling with some sort of magical contraption--an Ocularum, Solas kept reminding Bull whenever he referred to it as ‘demon shit’--when they find the bodies.
Two adults, their corpses rotten and decaying, and….
A child.
A small, feeble skeleton, fit snug between its parents and cradled in their decomposing arms.
Bull kneels down beside the remains and scrubs a large hand over his face. “Ah, shit,” he mutters, sharing a concerned look with Solas. If Lavellan sees that…
“Hunger, gnawing at my tummy. Cold at night but Daddy says it’s all just a game. Like we’re camping. But I don’t like this game. I want to go home. I want to go to sleep.”
Cole’s words make Bull’s heart clench in a painful sort of way. Yeah, he can separate himself from death when he’s ass-deep in a battle, fighting the enemies of the Inquisition. He can shield himself from the brunt of taking lives and seeing death all around them when on the battlefield. But even the Qunari Reaver can’t quite stomach the sight of that tiny body.
“We can’t let the Boss see,” Bull murmurs to Solas and Cole, both of them nodding solemnly in agreement.
“Can’t let me see what?”
Bull feels his heart sink. Lavellan is just finishing his descent from the top of the arch and is staring at the three of them with a puzzled expression. “I found more Shards, Solas. I counted six energies around this area, so I think if we…”
Those big caramel eyes finally land on the corpses. But Bull is hopeful: maybe if he positions himself the right way, he can shield the child from Lavellan’s view. He stands up quickly, shifting ever so slightly onto his left foot to block the sight, and gives the Inquisitor a nod. “Shards. Right. Why don’t you and Solas go start on that, then? Cole and I can finish checking around here. Just a couple of Freemen, long dead. Won’t take more than a moment to rifle through their shitt.”
But Lavellan doesn’t budge. His eyes narrow suspiciously as he looks between his companions; Bull and Solas both maintain proper neutral expressions, but Cole… Well, Cole can’t help it. Sorrow lines his young face, and that’s more than enough to tip Lavellan off.
Without another word, the young Elven mage strides forward towards the bodies. “Boss, c’mon, go with Solas, you don’t want this,” Bull rushes to say, trying to stave off the younger man’s advance. Lavellan only ducks around him, the damned agile thing, and moves to the side of the bodies.
For a long moment there’s nothing but silence. Bull has his eye squeezed closed, hoping that maybe his lover won’t see that little body. But then he hears the rustling of Lavellan’s clothes as the elf kneels down, and Bull knows before even turning to face the scene that the Inquisitor only has eyes for the smallest corpse.
Behind him Cole lets out a wounded noise, as if he’s been stabbed, but when Bull whips his head around to look at the spirit, there are no assailants. Just Cole, standing there with a pained expression, agony practically rolling off of him in waves.
“Young. So young, too young, never to grow and flourish and live. Another light forever extinguished. Too much darkness, all around, washing over everything and drowning it all. My fault, if I’d been here sooner, if I’d done more to help, if I was stronger--”
“Cole,” the Inquisitor snaps, his voice strained. Cole grows instantly silent, head hanging low to let sheets of blond hair cover his face. Lavellan stays still for a moment longer before finally rising. When he does, Bull sees something clenched in his hands.
A small, blood-soaked teddy bear.
The crimson liquid, still wet from saturating the toy, stains Lavellan’s pale skin. Bull wants to step forward and take the sad thing from his lover, clean his hands and bring him back to Skyhold so he can hide him away forever from all this shit. But he knows that he can’t. He can’t protect his lover from all the terrible, awful things in the world. Lavellan is the Inquisitor. Lavellan needs to know what he is saving when he works so tirelessly from day to day.
“Kadan, why don’t I take that from you,” Bull offers in a low, soft voice, taking a step towards the small mage and holding his hand out for the bear. But Lavellan flinches away from him as if Bull had struck him. The Reaver blinks in surprise and after a moment gives a small nod. “Alright then. We’ll keep scouting out the area.”
With a simple look to Solas and Cole, the three of them move on and leave Lavellan there with the dead.
~~~~~.
The night has nearly completely fallen when the young elf rejoins his party at the small camp they’d set up. The blood is washed from his hands now and Lavellan seems less visibly distraught. But Bull knows better than that; the exhaustion that has settled on Lavellan’s face, the dullness of those soft caramel eyes in the light of the fire, the way he seems so very young and small despite his power, all tell Bull more than he needs to know.
The small party stays quiet as their Inquisitor walks around to where the Qunari is sitting. Without a word, Lavellan crouches down and crawls right into Bull’s lap. Solas respectfully turns his gaze and suggests to Cole that they settle down for the night; the two of them disappear into their shared tent, the spirit throwing a sad glance back at Bull and Lavellan.
But neither of them notice. Bull has his arms wrapped around Lavellan, his scarred face buried in short red hair, and he holds his little love tight as the young elf weeps. “I know, kadan. I know. I am so sorry.”
They stay like that for a long time, until eventually Lavellan cries himself out and falls asleep. But Bull stays awake, a large hand stroking through crimson locks as he stares without seeing at the fire.
He may not be able to stop Lavellan from seeing and experiencing the terrors of the world, but Bull will never allow him to be lost to the madness. Lavellan keeps him sane and grounded, and has nearly since the moment they’d met.
In return, Bull will do the same. He won’t let the man he loves slip away.
He’ll be Lavellan’s Anchor. Lavellan's true Anchor.