#lvwrites

Cullen sneezed for what seemed to be the hundredth time that evening. 

     Cullen had progressively gotten sicker throughout the day. It started with an excessive clearing of his throat during his morning drills, and ended with him nearly fainting at the war table. Stubborn Cullen had only retired to Sadira’s quarters when she and Leliana basically dragged him there. 

     Sadira had spent the better part of the afternoon trying to coax Cullen into napping, but his shivering and sneezing thwarted her every attempt.

      Despite several reluctantly consumed potions and cups of herbal tea, Cullen’s fever persisted. He sweat profusely, yet could not stay warm. Sadira wiped his damp forehead occasionally and tried to keep him comfortable. With each potion he became more cranky and restless. 

      A healer had stopped by to assess the commander’s state. He was not grievously ill, she determined, but would only improve with a few day’s rest. This was news he bemoaned excessively, trying to bargain his way out of it. The man insisted on trying to look over reports as he lay in bed. Sadira had to snatch the papers out of his hand, to his dismay.

         “Makers breath, are you certain every window is shut? There must be a draft...” Cullen said, his voice thick and nasally from his congested nose. It seemed as though Cullen might as well be outside on the balcony with the way he shivered. 

       “Yes, Vhenan, but I may have something that could help.” Sadira kissed the Commander’s clammy cheek before extracting herself from the nest of sheets she had bundled them into. 

        Sadira strode over to a trunk at the foot of their bed, lifting the creaking lid. After rummaging around, she pulled out a large quilt. The heavy, midnight blue fabric unfolded as she lifted it out. Jumping Halla amongst glittering stars were embroidered carefully throughout the textile. It must have taken weeks to create every detail with care. Cullen’s eyebrows lifted as he admired the blanket with his itchy eyes. 

       “I’ve never seen that before. Is it… from your clan?” He asked, unsure of the Dalish crafting traditions but curious to learn. She smiled and hugged the blanket to her chest before bringing it over to her freezing beloved. 

       “My mummy made it. Maybe her magic will warm you and make you better!” Sadira said as she climbed into the bed beside Cullen. 

       “Almithara is a mage?” Cullen’s eyebrows knit in confusion. Sadira had never mentioned her mother being a mage, and he did not see her use magic when they met. 

       Sadira chuckled. “No, she’s just a good mum. That’s magic in itself, no?” 

      “Oh. Yes, I believe so.”

       She arranged him to lay in front of her, hugging him from behind and draping the heavy quilt across them. Cullen’s damp curls tickled her chin as he rested his head on her chest. He relaxed into her embrace, sighing. She could feel his weary body slowly cease shivering. Sadira knew she would be stuck underneath this massive man for a while, but she couldn’t have been more content. 

       Sadira gently traced patterns on Cullen’s chest as they lay together. Muted, fuzzy twilight leaked through the stained glass windows. He was falling asleep, finally, his breathing slowing. 

       “Would you like to hear the story of the blanket’s design?” Sadira asked, whispering gently to him. 

“Mmhmm…” he mumbled, already on the edge of being claimed by sleep.