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Dorian first hears the word murmured as they are basking in the afterglow of sex. He’s curled around the Bull’s torso, their limbs tangled and Bull’s chin digging into Dorian’s forehead.
“ Kadan. ”
He feels it almost more than he hears it; the rumble of his lover’s chest, the movement of his chin on his head, the puff of air he can feel through his mussed hair. Dorian does not know what the word means, nor does he have the energy to ask. As he feels himself fall into the quiet of sleep, his last thought is that it sounds beautiful, almost like the beat of a heart.
****
The word becomes somewhat of a fixture in their relationship. Bull murmurs it into Dorian’s skin in the early hours of the morning, slings an arm around Dorian’s waist as he says it casually in conversation, shakes his head and lets it slip exasperatedly, shouts it as Dorian rides him.
A few times Dorian comes close to asking him what it means, yet something holds him back. If he’s honest with himself, what stays the question in his throat is fear that the word doesn’t mean all Dorian hopes it does. That it’s nothing more than a pet name, just a silly term of endearment that can be tailored to fit any lover the Bull wishes to take. Truthfully Dorian wants it to mean so much more despite his common sense telling him not to. So he lets himself remain in blissful ignorance a while longer, pathetically imagining significance carried in the word whenever he hears it uttered by the Bull.
****
It’s only a few weeks later that Dorian decides he’s had enough of not knowing. It is not, however, the Bull that he goes to in search of answers. No, he elects to go to the Inquisitor.
Heshtah Adaar is perhaps Dorian’s best friend in the world. With a big heart, sarcastic and witty tongue, and a backbone of solid steel, Heshtah quickly weaved her way into Dorian’s heart. Had someone told him six months ago that the two most beloved people in his life would be a couple of qunari, Dorian would have laughed in their face. Yet now the man cannot imagine his life without either of them, nor does he want to.
It is with these overly sappy thoughts that Dorian makes his way down the flight of stairs into the courtyard of Skyhold where Heshtah leans against the stone to watch a couple of soldiers dueling in the training arena some ways down. She smiles as he approaches, her arms crossed in a relaxed way the inquisitor rarely can be. Heshtah has never been one to take herself too seriously. That is one thing she has taught Dorian in their few months of friendship: that life’s too short not to separate work and play. It is something he is not yet adept at, but he is working on it.
“Am I hallucinating, or is that Dorian Pavus outside the library?” Heshtah smiles in greeting, her hand placed above her eyes as if shielding them to get a better look.
“Well, you certainly never drop by to see me so I thought I’d take matters into my own hands.” Dorian retorts, only half teasing. He knows the Inquisitor is probably the busiest woman in Thedas, though he does miss her regular visits to the library.
Despite his teasing tone, however, Heshtah flinches a bit. “You know, I was going to buy you a drink tonight,” she says, “but now I think I’ll just take my offer back.”
“What a coincidence, I was about to offer the same to you.” Dorian retorts. Then, after a beat of silence, “Though as much as I enjoy our witty banter, that isn’t why I sought you out.”
“Figured as much.” Heshtah says. “What do you need?”
“I um…” Dorian begins, suddenly embarrassed. What if kadan doesn’t mean much of anything at all? What if it’s an insult, or a joke? But Heshtah is his friend, and he has come this far. He may as well ask what he wants to know. “I was wondering if you could shed some light on a qunlat term for me.”
Heshtah’s gaze grows curious. “Sure. What is it?”
“Kadan.” Dorian says, sure he is butchering the pronunciation.
Now Heshtah looks positively bewildered. “Where did you hear that?” She asks, and Dorian feels his cheeks heat.
“Ah, that’s… Bull said it to me.”
A smug smile spreads across Heshtah’s face and she lets out an amused giggle most unfitting for the Inquisitor. “Did he, now?”
Dorian’s stomach drops and he averts his gaze to the ground. “It’s something stupid, isn’t it? A word for mages or the like?” He knew better than to get his hopes up, but no. He had to go and foolishly think that the Bull might have meant something more by it, something romantic and sappy and that -
“No, actually. It’s a word for someone you care for very much. It’s like…” She says, struggling to accurately explain it, “I guess the closest meaning in common would be ‘my heart’.”
“Amatus.” Dorian unconsciously says.
“Yeah, just like amatus!” Heshtah nods.
“But that’s…” Absurd? Too good to be true? Overwhelmingly wonderful? “Wait, you speak Tevene?” Dorian questions instead, his mind trying to process the revelation that the Iron Bull would call him something as intense and revered as to be comparable to amatus.
“Bits and pieces.” Heshtah replies, a smirk still settled on her face.
“Well, I… wasn’t expecting that.” Dorian exhales with a laugh. Both he and the Inquisitor know he doesn’t mean Heshtah’s repertoire of languages. He feels a sense of relief, and isn’t that odd? “I, um, suppose I’ll go find him then.”
“Hey, try to keep the moaning to a minimum tonight? Sera and I can hear you guys from my quarters.” Heshtah teases.
Dorian snorts. “No promises.”
As he turns to walk towards the tavern where he knows Bull will be drinking with the Chargers, Heshtah lets out a fond “Hey.” He pivots to meet her gaze. “I’m happy for you.” Dorian smiles and wonders how he possibly came to deserve a friend like Heshtah Adaar.
****
Later that night, in the Bull’s quarters, Dorian lies curled up by the man’s side, a fire roaring in the small fireplace. Their sweat slicked skin mingles together and creates a comfortable slide of brown skin on grey.
“Bull?” Dorian questions, breaking the comfortable silence between them.
“Hmm?” Bull hums in reply and shifts his face in Dorian’s hair.
“I… spoke with the Inquisitor today.”
“Oh, yeah?” Bull questions. “How’s she doing?”
“Well.” Dorian replies, his heart beating hard in his chest even though he knows he has no reason to be worried. “I was asking her about some qunlat words, namely kadan.”
Dorian’s breath hitches in his throat as he feels Bull shift beside him. “What did she say?” He asks, tone curious.
“That it means ‘my heart’... That it’s a term not used lightly.”
A pause, then, before Bull says “Yeah.” Dorian flips onto his other side so he is face to face with his lover. “Is that okay?”
“Is it…?” Dorian repeats, bewildered that he would ask such a question. He lets out a breathy laugh and says “Yes, that’s good. Very… good.”
“Okay.” Bull smiles and leans in to kiss him. Bull’s eye searches Dorian’s as he leans in, though Dorian does not know what for.
When they pull apart, it is with a whispered “kadan” against Dorian’s lips.
“Amatus.” He replies. Dorian thinks that the warmth he feels as Bull wraps his arms around him tightly and hums in contentment is enough.