A/N- Can be considered to take place in the same universe as Father of Dragons

I knew as I walked through Executive Priority that I did not look like a picture of wizardly power and prowess. My hair was a mess that only the most generous could call bedhead, shadows hung under my eyes like weights, and I couldn't remember the last time I had eaten something that didn't come in shiny pre-packaging. I didn't want to be at the health spa. I wanted to be home, where I matched the décor, and where I could curl up in bed with the rest of my family.

Unfortunately, I owed Marcone a favor and he had gotten it into his head that he wanted to know what had caused nearly forty city blocks to loose power for about an hour last night and I happened to know that it had been me. Well, me and the damn pack of fulgervores that some little idiot with too much free time and not nearly enough parental supervision had summoned.

Who sells second hand grimoires, anyway? Who buys them?! Dumbasses, that's who.

In sum; I'd had a long night, there was a puppy sized weight burning a hole in my pocket, and Marcone's smug scumminess was the cherry on the shit tuesday.

"Harry," Marcone looked up in feigned concern as I entered his office behind my escorts. Who were probably actual escorts. The girls' teeth were like too perfect pearls as they smiled and bounced away, task complete. "You really should take advantage of the amenties provided by your membership. I daresay the sauna alone-"

"Up yours, John." I didn't mean to growl the last, it just sort of came out, and it wasn't lost on me how the only ones still in the room were Marcone, his red haired attack dog, and Swordsinger Barbie. "Like I told you on the phone, it was nothing. I handled it. Case closed."

Marcone leaned back in his chair with a demenor so slick it didn't even squeak. He folded his hands together over his chest, fist cupped in a palm, and stared at me for a moment as if expecting more of a rant. He didn't get one. I just wanted to get gone. "While generally belive in autonomy-" I scowled at the man's choice of words. "-and to each their own baliwick, your business crossed over into mine last night. It resulted in some, shall we say, rather abrupt business negotiations."

"My heart bleeds."

"It isn't unreasonable to request-"

Marcone's voice was cut off by the high pitched warble of a dragonet in distress. I hissed out a rather ludicrious explitive and reached into my duster pocket with my gloved hand. Puff's long, gray neck twisted around my hand leaving a trail of snot nearly as gray as the dragon himself. I cradled him to my chest like a baby as he warbled. The talking had probably woken him up.

He didn't look as pathetic as he had earlier in the week, but I wasn't a dragon and I wasn't prepared to risk leaving him alone with two other siblings who's natural instincts upon smelling weakness were to go for the throat.

I felt like this prompt was speaking to me, so I had to write it right away. Those two <3
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Maxwell stood in the middle of the room he and Iron Bull were staying in, wielding his new staff in his right hand, looking at it. It was better than his last one, that was clear, but it felt so much different. Its weight was unfamiliar, and even if Dalish, who had kept insisting that she didn't know much about staves herself but knew some people who did, had told him that it would fit him better, he still had a difficult time dealing with the fact that he needed a new staff now that he had to wield one with his right hand only.

How could he get over the loss of a hand? Every time he looked at his arm, moved it, or took his clothes off, he remembered what had happened. Everything was taking him twice as long now, and it made him feel irritated with himself. Neither Bull nor the Chargers pitied him, never made him feel like he was hopeless, and yet, he couldn't help feeling useless.

"Kadan?"

Maxwell turned his head away from the door, only then realizing that his eyes were burning. He walked up to the bed and put the staff on top of the covers, hoping that Bull didn't notice how red his eyes were.

"I was just leaving everything I had bought. I'll be with you in a minute," Maxwell said, hoping his voice didn't sound as shaky as he thought it did.

Just as he was putting away the new amulets he had acquired, he heard Bull walking up to him and then a pair of strong arms was wrapped around his middle.

"Want to talk about it?"

Of course Bull would ask that. He always knew whenever something was bothering Maxwell. Bull's voice was gentle, and his presence grounding. It felt so right to just lean back against the solid body behind him, so that was what Maxwell did.

"I just..." he sighed, not knowing how to answer such a questions. What was he supposed to say? That he felt useless? That the Chargers didn't need him?

"You're the strongest person I know, Kadan," Bull said firmly, and the confidence with which he said that made Maxwell close his eyes tighter. "After everything you went through you haven't given up and you’re here.”

“Bull…”

“You’re a fighter. You train harder than everyone else, and you don’t let anyone bring you down,” Bull continued, his lips brushing the top of Maxwell’s head, fingers of one hand caressing Maxwell’s skin through the material of his shirt. “You take my breath away.”

Maxwell turned around, his eyes still closed, and hid his face in Bull’s chest right away. As Bull’s arms tightened around him, Maxwell tried to calm his breathing.

“I’m sorry…”

“You have nothing to be sorry about,” Bull said quietly, making Maxwell exhale quietly.

“I… I don’t think I could do this without you.”

“You could. I know you could.”

“Thank you for being here, Bull.”

“Always, Kadan. Always.”