Chapter Text
The first time Dorian saw the Herald of Andraste it was in a blur of heroism and green. Indeed in all the times he saw the Herald after that he was doing something majestic like ordering troops about, foiling Alexius' plots and pillaging the Hinterlands of Red Templars, Apostates and bandits. In short. He was quite magnificent. That's what drew him towards the Herald, that and the flirting. But what held him there was the Frey he saw underneath the leader.
A few weeks after joining the inquisition Dorian leaves the small hut they gave him to call home for the time being. He's determined to find at least someone to talk to, lest he cave and talk to the bald elf mage again who spoke as if he was a god himself.
It was always Dorian's intention to find Frey first. Considering they got stuck in Alexius' horrible future together, he is certain they already count as friends.
He expects to have to pull the elf away from mountains of reports gifted by his advisors but instead he finds Frey settled in a small nook of the chantry. He imagines most would pass by obliviously as would Dorian were it not for the strength of Frey's magic that Dorian can feel pulling on his own.
Frey himself doesn't notice the other mage's presence as he is transfixed with the book he pours over, flicking the pages back and forth every few seconds as if he is trying to understand what was on the previous page with the new information.
Instead of the mighty Herald who walked from the fade, all Dorian can see now is a young man who has probably never had this type of responsibility foisted on him before, even if he was a Keeper's first. He's just a boy really, there's no way he's more than twenty years old and the innocence of a child still clings to him although it is being prised away with the darkness and corruption of war.
He looks so content, Dorian muses. Even hundreds and hundreds of miles from home, surrounded by people who not long ago demanded his death, in the worship place of a religion he doesn't believe him and yet he is happy. Perhaps the Dalish are not all the tight, self worshiping people he's been raised to expect.
Dorian has never considered the Herald as anything more than a mighty ally who likes to flirt, until now. Now he sees him for what he is. A pure soul, worth cherishing and protecting, someone to spend hours on end with, just to hear the sound of their voice or the blessed tinkle of laughter. Dorian hasn't felt that way about anyone for a long time and just the knowledge of that causes a curl of excitement to spread through him. And also fear, love is a heavy responsibility. Love? Where did that come from? Surely he can't love a man he just met... And yet, another glance at Lavellan tells him he can, or he can begin to.
It also occurs to him that if Frey has stuffed himself into the smallest space possible, in a Chantry nobody expects him to spend any great lengths of time in, he probably doesn't want to talk. So with that in mind Dorian turns with a tiny sigh and retreats away, resigning to the fact he's going to have to talk to Solas again.
"Dorian?" Frey's voice catches him and he turns back to face the elf who is smiling at him with a quizzical quirk of the eyebrow.
"Ah Herald I was just- on my way to look for uhh... Wine- yes wine." A beautiful frown wrinkles across Frey's marked forehead,
"Dorian... Wouldn't they keep that in the tavern?"
"Ah... Yes. That would be the reasonable place to keep wine." Frey places the book down on his lap and looks at Dorian properly.
"So what are you really here for?"
"You're very perceptive for someone who accidentally picked up a very magical orb and cursed himself with a green hand."
"You think its a curse?" Frey asks, instinctively clenching his left hand and tucking it into his robes, his head tilted down in a sudden disappointment that makes Dorian feel like he just kicked a thousand puppies.
"In the sense of magic no I think it is a gift but honestly for fashion. Just a nightmare. Imagine trying to match anything to green."
A smile splits across Frey's face as he untucks his hand then says, "I've never been much of one for fashion. Sorry. You'll have to put up with my ghastly outfits and colour co-ordination."
"Oh I dare say I'll muddle through. I'll let your face distract me."
That pretty blush that Dorian has come to crave seeing appears across the elf's tanned skin and he ducks his head then asks, "So did you come to flirt with me?"
"Not entirely. Truly I just hoped for someone to speak to who isn't Solas." That gets another smile out of Frey as Dorian continues, "Don't get me wrong he seems alright but he's..."
"A bit much? I know. Please sit- uhh somewhere." He looks around for somewhere for the Tevintar to seat himself but Dorian shakes his head.
"Alas as fun flirting with you is, you were quite content before I came along please don't let me disturb you. Nobody hides in a chantry for want of company."
Dorian begins to turn away again but Frey says, "Dorian wait please- I'm not hiding from everyone- just the ambassador, spymaster and general. Sometimes I tell them I'm going on a trip to collect herbs just so I can read my book. Selfish as it is with the world ending I know. Although I'm sure Leliana knows I'm here but just indulges me. How did you know- nobody has found me before?"
"I can often feel another mage's presence because of the magic. Its like a map to me. And always unique. Yours is a thrum of power, when you're using it, it feels like the whole world is vibrating. Its taken my breath away on numerous occasions, though that may be just you." He checks Frey's face for a reaction but doesn't truly have one, the elf is watching him with a calm expression, curiosity tinging the edge of his smile but his eyes hold a warmth that he's not seen from the elf before.
Just as quickly as he sees it Frey blinks and the soft smile turns into a smirk. "I knew you came to flirt with me."
"But the real question is- is it working?" The blush spreads darker over Frey's face but to his credit he doesn't cave into pile of stumbling words like many of Dorian's previous flirtations.
"That depends on the desired effect." He offers Dorian a cheeky smirk combined with a head tilt.
"Oh you are good."
"I've been told." That's when the Herald actually breaks and cracks up into laughter that echoes around the empty chamber and is quickly combined with Dorian's. "That's a lie. My whole clan would tell you I'm the most awkward, stuttering mess around anyone remotely attractive."
"Well I must say given your previous smoothness- that's quite a blow to my attractiveness." Frey laughs again, shaking his head fondly. "Being told I can control an army, make decisions that affect the world and close tears in the fade has made me a tad more confident. I figure if I can do all that without the world imploding I can talk to a very handsome man."
"A wise decision really."
"I thought so." Dorian is just feeling out of place again when Frey must realise and stumbles over his words in his eagerness to say, "Have you read this book before? I'm trying to make sense of it. But common tongue is my second language and before all the reports I started getting I was barely literate in it."
Reaching out Dorian takes the book from Frey, their fingers brushing for a few seconds and its like a spark of lightening down his arm. Frey clearly feels it too because he curls his hand back to his chest, testing his fingers then looking expectantly at Dorian who is looking over the book.
"I've read this one several times, sit I'll explain." Joy splits across Frey's face as he eagerly sits down on the floor, letting Dorian have the seat and listening avidly as Dorian's rich velvet voice explains the meaning of the world.