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."
With the clipped comment, Dorian whirled on his heel and stalked out of the hall, the clack of his boots against stone matching every throbbing thump of Gael's heart.
~~~
"Hey, Dorian," Gael said softly, his voice barely audible over the raucous laughter of the tavern. Drinks sloshed to Gael's right, the elf carefully sidestepping around the puddle that landed by his feet. A drunken soldier guffawed as he tripped on his own toes, toppling towards Gael. Sighing, Gael ducked, narrowly missing the drunk's arm whizzing past his head, the man collapsing onto the ground, face down in the freshly-formed puddle of ale.
Distracted by the flying projectiles, Gael almost stumbled himself trying to reach Dorian, who had stood up without finishing his drink, eyes trained on the exit.
"Dorian! Wait!" Lavellan called, another drunk flying towards him with three tankards looped around his fingers, the golden liquid dribbling down the sides and onto Lavellan's shoulder. Gael grit his teeth as he weaved gracefully through the crowd, his eyes never leaving Dorian's hastily retreating form, the tall man's head bobbing above the throng of people clamouring for drinks.
Shorter than most of the patrons, Gael's sight of Dorian began to disappear as his eyes couldn't rise above the heads and chests of others, the elf grimacing. By the time Gael managed to push his way through to the back exit, Dorian's form was already on the far side of Skyhold's grounds. Watching on in the cold, his hair unfurled and blowing in the wind, Gael pulled his coat tighter around his body and watched with folorn eyes until Dorian disappeared down a flight of stairs.
Turning back glumly, Gael walked back into the lively tavern, tapping the bartender on the shoulder with a sad look. The bartender gave Gael an apologetic look, shoving another patron off the bar before carefully placing a steaming mug of tea in front of Gael. Holding the hot cup in his cool hands, Gael stared at the half-empty tankard the Tevinter mage had left, the lip of the cup still smeared with his saliva.
~~~
"Inquisitor?"
Gael blinked, looking up from the large map that was unfurled across the length of the war table, the small marble carvings blurring as his eyes watered. Looking up, Gael met the worried gaze of Cullen, the handsome man awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck as he glanced to his side to Leliana. The spymaster shook her head and stepped back, gesturing to Josephine, who gave the two desperate looks before finally turning to Gael.
"It's been... a trying few weeks," Josesphine says, her words slow as she tried to carefully piece her sentences together.
"It has," Gael said, rubbing his eyes tiredly.
"If you still haven't recovered from what happened at Adamant..." Josephine started, glancing at Leliana, who maintained a pokerface as she stared at a very inconspicuous chip on the edge of the war table, while Cullen at least pretended to peruse through documents in his hands.
"Thank you for your concern, Josie," Gael said, giving the Antivan beauty a grateful look, the woman seeming to relax slightly. "But I'm fine. Just a little tired. If we have exhausted all the topics up for discussion, may I ask to be excused to my chambers?"
"Of course, Inquisitor. Cullen, have we covered everything?" Josephine asked, Cullen's eyes widening as he hurriedly fumbled through the stack of papers he had been focusing - yet not focusing - on for the past five minutes. Pulling out a folded slip of paper, Cullen's sight skimmed the contents, before nodding to Gael.
"Yes, we have discussed everything. Oh, but just regarding the issue in Emprise du Lion..." Cullen began to say, Leliana stepping on his toe under the table. The Commander of the Inquisition's forces blanched as his mouth pressed into a thin, pained line. "Uh, never mind. Rest well, Inquisitor."
"Thank you, Cullen," Gael said, chuckling despite his fatigue, picking up the figure of a horse that sat on top of the printed 'Emprise' on the map. "And don't worry about Emprise. Prepare for my departure in three days. Cassandra, Varric and Bull shall accompany me."
"As you wish, Inquisitor," Cullen said, nodding his head as he scribbled something down on the paper, somewhat glad to be able to keep his eyes and hands busy. Thanking the circle again, Gael stepped out, the voices of his close friends slipping through the open crack before the door closed fully.
"No Dorian?" Cullen asked, and Gael heard a heavy smack followed by a masculine grunt. Gael didn't hang around to hear what was said next, mouth turned down in a frown as he walked without stopping to his chambers, slamming the door behind him. Dropping his clothes in a trail on the dark burgundy carpet towards his bed, Gael climbed in to the plush mound of fabric and buried himself under the blankets.
No Dorian.
A/N: Part II will be published soon (ish) :)