Chapter Text
It was the scent that first tipped him off. Though Cullen didn't often find himself in Dorian's vicinity, Tevinter perfumes couldn't quite mask that distinctive scent. That, and it seemed Dorian was wearing far more perfume than necessary, and he'd spent long enough around omega mages to pick up that particular sort of furtiveness to know what it could mean. The amount of perfume could be a Tevinter thing, he supposed, as he hadn't ever met any others, but despite Dorian's obviously noble upbringing and the tendency of nobles of any lands to overdo things and call it fashionable, he had a feeling Dorian was hiding something. Something likely harmless, given the fact Leliana hadn't alerted him and precious little slipped past her, but something that was possibly important.
Cullen told himself it was out of concern for Dorian's well-being, and that of the Inquisition as a whole, that he began finding excuses to check up on the mage. Mostly so it sounded more convincing than the fact he simply wished to spend more time with the other omega, and so no one thought him being an ex-Templar had anything to do with his interest in following a foreign mage around. As it was, with his numerous other duties since arriving at Skyhold, he had precious little time to trail Dorian, much less ask about his day and other small talk that was definitely not flirting.
If his suspicions weren't so set on one particular reason for Dorian's odd behavior (as if he had any basis for "normal" behavior to compare it to, but he hadn't been a Templar for over a decade without picking up on certain things) he'd have involved Leliana and some of her people into investigating the mage. Call it omega instinct or whatever other rubbish, but he had a hunch that Dorian was keeping this secret for a reason that was more personal. Thus, despite Cullen's sense of duty and ethics, he felt strongly that he shouldn't involve anyone else, at least not yet.
And so it was that he found himself with a couple hours of free time one night, and he made his way up to the library. At first he didn't see anyone around, which was strange in itself even considering the late hour, but then Dorian's voice came from a darkened alcove, startling him into emitting a rather undignified squeak of surprise as he jumped.
"Don't think I didn't notice your attention, Commander," Dorian said, stepping out into the low torch light. "While I'm strangely flattered, I have a feeling it's not due to being enamored with my good looks. Not this time, at any rate."
"I--uh, well, yes, I mean, no," Cullen stammered, cheeks flushing as the scent of the mage hit him underneath another overwhelming cloud of perfume.
"What, pray tell, is it then?" Dorian asked, making to cross his arms and only just stopping himself, and not so subtly fumbling for a way to cover the aborted gesture.
"I um, well, there's really no tactful way to say this," Cullen said, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly as he grimaced. "Are you... that is," he pitched his voice quieter and inched closer, then gestured at Dorian's midsection vaguely rather than say it out loud.
Dorian's dark skin didn't really blanch, but his shocked expression was answer enough before it turned to defensive anger. "How did you--blasted nosy southern Templars!" he hissed, glancing around and backing into the alcove again. "I am not going to allow you to blackmail me, so don't even think it," he snarled, magic crackling just beneath his skin.
Cullen took a step back and raised his hands in surrender. "No! Maker, no, I'd never dream of it," he said, somewhat failing to keep his voice suitably quiet. "I'm sorry, I truly didn't mean to pry, or upset you, Dorian, I swear it. I'm just honestly concerned."
"As the Commander of the Inquisition, I suppose?" Dorian said icily. "It couldn't be personal concern, though perhaps I ought to be grateful that you care at all, despite this being none of your fucking business."
Cullen opened his mouth to respond, paused, and then sighed as he ran his hands through his short hair. "Dorian, as an omega to a fellow omega, I'm concerned for you. Not as Commander of the Inquisition, or even as a former Templar," he said, raising his gaze to meet Dorian's squarely.
"Ah, so you're going to tell me you saw this before, yes? That you have experience with omega mages getting knocked up?" Dorian did cross his arms then, and the slight curve of the mage's belly became more apparent through the thick fabric of his shirt. "How touching. Did you perhaps come to lecture me about how my magic will become increasingly erratic and harder to control? Because I bloody well know that. I have taken all necessary precautions, and a few more besides."
"I'm sorry, this is coming out all wrong, clearly," Cullen said with another heavy sigh as he turned to grip the wooden railing.
"I haven't set fire to anything accidentally since I was twelve, if you must know, and I don't intend for my condition to change that," Dorian said flatly.
"Dorian, please, I don't even need to know why you feel you must keep this secret," Cullen said, turning to the mage and taking a few cautious steps closer. "Don't tell me anything at all, if you wish, but please let me help?"
Dorian stared at Cullen for a few heartbeats, his expression no longer quite so hostile. "How could you possibly help without knowing any of the juicy details?" he asked, bitterness clear in his tone as he enunciated the last two words. "I'm sure you've already guessed why this is my secret, what with your experience in such matters. You were, after all, clever enough to notice despite my best efforts."
It was Cullen's turn to stare silently at Dorian for a few moments before he spoke. "My experience in these matters is rather personal, actually, in addition to having secondhand experience," he said softly. "I don't presume to compare my experiences to yours, as being with child affects Templar abilities far less."
Dorian blinked in genuine, unguarded surprise and gave Cullen a considering look. "I see. Well then, I... might be amenable to some assistance, provided discretion is kept. As far as I'm aware, you're the only one who's deduced my little secret, and I'd very much like to keep it that way, at least for now."
Cullen managed a wry half smile and nodded. "Understood. I have no particular wish to revisit my past, which is why I see no need to know any of your juicy details, as you put it."
"So glad we have an agreement then. Now, I'm sure you have more pressing matters to attend to, yes?"
Cullen hesitated for a second and then nodded. Murmuring a polite goodbye, he departed at a pace that was just shy of hurried. Dorian watched him go with a pensive frown, and then took the stairs down to Solas' area.
"I assume you heard enough to figure it out, as I understand elven hearing is quite sensitive," Dorian said, leaning against the doorframe as he stared at Solas.
The other mage, to his credit, didn't bother to pretend he just woke up, much less feign any ignorance. "Yes, and I respect your privacy in such matters," Solas said neutrally as he sat up. "Leliana and her spies sleep elsewhere, and as far as I know the birds do not gossip."
"Useful to know." Dorian stared at Solas for another moment before he straightened up and walked forward to sit on the couch. "How long have you known? You hardly seem surprised, after all."
"I sensed it soon after we first met, and while I wondered why you didn't make it known, I assumed you had good reason."
"I know you don't like me much at all, yet you kept my secret." Dorian tilted his head as he slouched on the couch. "Why?"
"You have no malicious intent with concealing your condition, thus it poses no danger to anyone but yourself. Despite the strains it puts on your control of magic, I trust in your ability to manage such fluctuations competently."
Dorian narrowed his eyes at the second half of Solas' reply but let it slide for now. "You're a beta, but do you have experience in these matters? And by that I mean other than seeing it in the Fade."
"Practical experience? No." Solas rose to his feet and moved to his table to rifle through his books and papers. "In my home village, I of course saw omegas in your condition from time to time, and in my travels in this world I have managed to pick up some knowledge of the subject."
"Do elves handle it differently?" Dorian mused aloud.
"Much like humans, elves are not a collective." Solas managed to make the words vaguely condescending without a change in tone of voice or body language.
Dorian hated when he did that. "That's hardly what I meant," he snapped. "Allow me to rephrase, then: just how different is it?"
Solas arched one eyebrow as he gave Dorian one of his insufferably impassive looks. "For me? 'My kind'? But to answer your question, no, the differences between our peoples are not so vast as that. Particular traditions may differ in specifics, but it is the same condition overall. If you wish to know about truly unusual customs, by your standards at any rate, perhaps you could ask Iron Bull."
"I already know more than I wanted to about how Qunari do it, and I have no interest in further inquiry." Dorian shuddered delicately, looking a bit ill at the thought. "Besides which, as a Ben-Hassrath, our large horned friend is a terrible gossip."
Solas evidently located what he was looking for and walked over to Dorian to hand him a small vial. "As elven physiology is not so different than humans, this will be effective."
"At what?" Dorian asked, studying the glass vial with its opaque yellowish liquid. "And you just happened to have this lying about?"
"For the aches and pains your condition may give you, and as such discomforts are not unique to your condition, I have several such droughts lying about."
Dorian blinked twice and then pocketed the vial. "Ah, well, thank you, then."
Solas inclined his head slightly. "I am no healer, but I know of various recipes and remedies should you need them."
"I... appreciate that, truly." Dorian took a moment to collect himself and then stood. "Perhaps I needn't have worried so much after all."
Solas pinned Dorian with a serious look. "I would not presume your motivations, only that you had your reasons."
"Yes, well. I do, at that. Good night." Dorian took pains to leave with as much dignity as he could muster, telling himself he was certainly not retreating to his alcove.