Little But Not Less | ✓

Adamantly Alone - Part I

A/N: I've sort of tweaked the game's timeline a little, since this part in the game is usually after the Inquisitor and Dorian are 'together' - but in Gael and Dorian's tale, this isn't quite the case :)

Dorian was angry - it was obvious. The Tevinter mage wasn't often an open book, but right now his pages were unfurled and spilling from their bindings. The only thing still hidden between the lines was the reason for his anger, which was unnaturally directed towards Gael, much to the elf's displeasure. 

While Gael was the type to ignore someone when they upset him, Dorian was the type to let his mouth run wild, though eloquently so. In Gael's case, Dorian's usually playful quips about his height had only increased, and the once joking words seemed to cut deeper than before. This had been going on for a whole week now, starting from the moment the two mages had returned from Adamant. 

As a mage, Gael's trip into the Fade had not sat well with him, and he could still hear and feel the darkness in there nipping and tugging at his flesh, wanting to eat his mind and soul alive. Gael could only imagine that Dorian was feeling the same thing, and part of him wondered if that was what had him so riled up. Gael had gone up to the mage numerous times over the past week, offering his shoulder if Dorian needed it, only to be pushed away roughly at those same shoulders. Gael could only meekly rub the spots on his body where Dorian's had brushed across callously, the stings prickling.

Dorian's actions hurt far more than anything Gael had felt before - more than the dragon's claws slicing through his shoulder blade, or the demon that had wrapped its oozing talons around his throat in an attempt to crush his trachea. It hurt in a place deep in Gael's body, somewhere no elixir, salve or spell could penetrate. No matter how much he clawed at his chest, the hurt just burrowed further in and out of his reach.

~~~

"Dorian?" Lavellan murmured, peeking his head around the corner of a bookshelf, relief flooding his face when he saw Dorian reaching up for one of Genitivi's leather-bound volumes. "I finally found you. What are you looking at?" 

"Nothing that you can reach, Inquisitor," Dorian replied brusquely, his voice flat.

The Tevinter mage barely spared a glance at him as he quickly tucked the thick book under his arm, stepping around Gael's smaller frame without a word to disappear behind one of the many doors in the chamber. Gael swallowed painfully, his heart hammering as he stared at the door Dorian had walked through just a second ago, the latch clicking shut. Gael felt his cheeks flush as some of the mages that loitered around the library peered at him through gaps in the shelves, their voices hushed.

Gael kept his head down as he walked out of the library, pulling his hair free from its band to cover his face.

~~~

"Dorian!" Gael called, pushing down his trepidation as he saw Dorian walking along the stone hallway of Skyhold. Gael plastered a warm smile on his face as he skipped over to Dorian, pulling on his freshly tailored cloak to show the Tevinter mage, his fashion prowess leagues above the common rabble at the Inquisition's stronghold. Twirling lightly on his feet, Lavellan tugged at the carefully sewn hem of his embellished sleeves. "What do you think?"

Dorian cast an appraising eye over the garment, not meeting Gael's eyes. Silence followed, and Gael bit his lip nervously, wondering if Dorian would just turn around and walk past him again without uttering a single word. 

Hope blossomed in Gael's breast as Dorian's mouth opened, his moustache rippling.

"You're far too short for that coat. It swallows you whole."