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Catching Cold

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Cullen overreacts. The Inquisitor tries to hide her symptoms from him as long as possible, but he notices. He calls in Skyhold’s senior healers and frowns ferociously when he is assured that it really is just a cold. When the healers recommend bed rest and plenty of fluids, Cullen immediately tucks the Inquisitor under a mountain of blankets and insures her teacup is never empty. Eventually she begins sending him on errands just to keep him from hovering, and she insists that he read her reports out loud so she can remain informed of her Inquisition’s doings. Really she just finds his voice soothing. When she falls asleep, he holds her hand gently while his brow furrows in worry for her.

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Solas immediately notices that she’s ill. He convinces her to take herbal remedies that he makes himself. He quietly makes sure that no one bothers her unless it’s a true emergency though he is careful to ensure she doesn’t notice his interference. He sits by her bedside watching her struggle to find sleep despite her aching head and sore throat, and he begins to sing to her softly, old songs that he learned in dreams. His voice makes her dreams sweet, and she wakes rested with Solas still awake beside her.

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The Iron Bull takes charge. He orders the kitchens to make a batch of extremely spicy soup (his own recipe) and tells the Inquisitor to eat every last bit. Yes, it burns, but she finds her sinuses clearing with each spoonful. He then orders her to bed and tucks her in with infinite gentleness. When a messenger arrives, The Iron Bull just stands up and crosses his arms while making his most intimidating face. The messenger apologizes, and no one else dares disturb the Inquisitor. When the Inquisitor wakes the next morning feeling mostly better, she finds Bull asleep with his back against her door. He smiles when he wakes. “Looking good, kadan,” he says with a lewd wink.

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Cassandra tells the Inquisitor he is being ridiculous and to find someone else if he wants coddling. Yet somehow she finds herself outside his door berating anyone that tries to disturb him. When he hears her, he tells her she might as well keep him company. He looks so pathetic, cocooned in his blankets that she begins to pace anxiously. In an effort to get her to stop he asks her for a cup of tea which she brews far too strong to be drinkable (one extra strong cup is as good as three weak ones, she thinks) so he asks her to read him poetry to help him sleep, but she refuses, blushing. A few minutes later she is sitting in a chair by his bed reading to him, her face still slightly flushed. Once he’s asleep she puts down the book and gently strokes his hair.

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Sera generally makes a nuisance of herself. She jumps on the bed, tells stories about her pranks, laughs too loud and complains that she’s bored. When the Inquisitor tries to send her away though, she’s only gone for a few minutes. She returns looking contrite and carrying a jar of lemon sweets (“for your throat, I guess” she says when asked). “Damn Inky, you look like shite!” she says, but her voice is gentle. She sits on the bed and they play Wicked Grace until the Inquisitor can’t keep her eyes open. Sera peeks at the Inquisitor’s cards, plucking one to make sure her own is the winning hand, then she lays down and takes a nap of her own, oblivious to her lover’s snores.

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Josephine mobilizes all of Skyhold. Or that’s what it seems like. She consults with the healers about the most efficacious remedies then sends orders to the kitchen to make sure there’s plenty of soup and tea. The servants are rounded up to make sure there are plenty of blankets and warming pans and that the fire is constantly roaring. Once all the preparations are complete, Josephine clears her calendar for the day and curls up in bed with the Inquisitor. She fetches tea when needed but mostly she’s just there with a kind word and a gentle hand to make her love feel a little bit better.

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Dorian insists on nursing the Inquisitor himself. “The others will only give you barbaric remedies doomed to make your illness worse” he sniffs. Instead the Tevinter mage wraps the Inquisitor in his own robe (a wonderful thing of rich velvet and elaborate embroidery) and cocoons him in blankets in bed. Dorian then proceeds to fetch teas and potions, pillows and handkerchiefs until the Inquisitor’s every need (real or imagined) is seen to. Eventually Dorian settles down and reads a Tevinter history out loud and comments on its inaccuracies while his lover dozes. Once, when he notices the Inquisitor is asleep, Dorian stops reading, but the Inquisitor’s eyes open blearily. “Why’d you stop?” he asks in a stuffed-nose voice. Dorian doesn’t stop again. He reads aloud all night.

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Blackwall doesn’t say much, he just takes action. The Inquisitor tells him she’s just fine, thank you. Blackwall nods and tells her she’s welcome to stay with him in the barn loft. He builds up the fire and sends one of the stable hands running to the kitchens for hot, nourishing soup. She watches these actions suspiciously, but he doesn’t say anything about her illness, he only eats a bowl of soup with her. When she falls asleep in her chair, he picks her up and carries her to his cot and settles her beneath the blankets before climbing in beside her for extra warmth. His sword calloused hands stroke her hair as he watches over her through the night.