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The trembling of his hands is getting worse, and Dorian finally can’t ignore it. They were sitting on the gazebo, playing their weekly game of chess, but Cullen is not even trying to win. Dorian stops his hand mid air when he raises it to move a paw, startling him. “Commander-- no, Cullen. What in the Void is happening to you?” The tremors on his hands are worse now that he can feel them instead of just seeing them, and his skin is on fire. The Commander tries to take off his hand, but Dorian didn’t buy it, fixing it against the table beside the chess board. Rising slowly from his chair, the ‘Vint move beside Cullen, hand still pinning his while the other moves to touch the Commander’s forehead. “Maker, you have a fever, Cullen!”
“I'm all right, Dorian.”
“Bullshit. I remained silent for so long waiting for you to come to me, but I’m tired of waiting. Now move your sorry ass to your tower and put yourself into bed. I’m going to ask Cassandra to take on your duties for the day.” Cullen is about to explode, but Dorian didn’t step back, just crosses his arm and looks intently into his eyes. “Don’t make me call Lavellan for this, Cullen. You know that she will be even worse than me. Fasta vass! Move, now!”
Cullen feels too tired and weak to fight him back. Instead, he drags the chair back, standing slowly and walking to his office at an unsteady pace. Dorian remains in the garden, storing the chess pieces on the box before following him.
The Altus leaves the garden, doing a quick visit to his room, where he picks the bag with his potions and a bottle of Antivan brandy. He still carries the chessboard, and his hands are full of items for when he leaves his room. The main hall is as crowded as ever, with the swarm of nobles roaming the big room, waiting for a moment to kidnap the Inquisitor’s attention. Varric is on his corner and gives Dorian a nod when the ‘Vint passes beside him. The sun is almost at its zenith when he leaves the main hall, going down the stairs.
Cassandra is on her spot near the forge, reading a book under the shade of a tree. “Seeker, may I have a word with you?”
She looks at him with a quizzical look. They are not enemies anymore, months of fighting side by side had helped to lose a bit their relationship, but Dorian didn’t seek her directly, ever. “Of course, Dorian.”
He stops in front of her, not bothering on sitting or putting down the items in his hands. “Cullen is sick. I’m tired of seeing him dragging his feet across Skyhold, putting a hard face and trying to look healthier. I will force him to be in bed for the rest of the day. Maker, he even let me win today, two times!” He shakes his head, but the lopsided grin on Cassandra’s face makes him stop his mumbling. “Anyway, can you take care of any urgent matter that comes today? I can tie him to the bed if necessary, but I’m sure that knowing that you will be doing his job will help to ease his mind.”
Closing the book, she stands, leaning against the tree. “Consider it done, Dorian. I will send orders to divert all the runners to me until you say otherwise. Take care of him. He can be a bit stubborn, as you already know.” He nods, stepping back to let her some space to move. “I’ll order that someone bring food for you. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”
Dorian gives her a half bow, “Thanks, Seeker. If I don’t survive, tell Lavellan that I love her.”
Cassandra tries to hide the smile on her face behind her book, before waving to him and walk to the barracks to talk to the Captains of the guard.
Dorian takes a deep breath and walks to the stairs that lead to the Commander’s tower, climbing them at a steady pace. The crystal bottles of his potions clink on the bag on his shoulder with every step. The door is locked when he tries to open it, and he has to give the other man some credit, trying to keep him away with this trick. But he is a mage, an excellent one, and a simple door can’t keep him away from where he wants to be. With an annoyed frown on his face, he stores the bottle under his arm, raising a hand and twitching his fingers while calling the powers of the Fade, letting the energy of it open the latch for him. The click from it makes a lopsided grin show on his face before pushing the door open and locking it again behind him. The office is empty, but the Commander’s armour lays scattered around the room, tracing the path he followed to reach the ladder. Putting the items he carries on the desk, Dorian proceeds to pick up the armour pieces, storing them on the desk’s chair. Recovering the bag of potions and the bottle of brandy, he moves to the ladder. “Cullen, I’m coming up, are you ready or not.” A grunt is his only answer, and he fixes the bottle in the bag before climbing the ladder.
The Commander is lying on his bed, arm resting over his eyes. Now that he isn’t wearing the armour, Dorian can see sweat covering almost all the tunic. Moving closer to the bed, he put down the bag near the floor and the bottle on the nightstand. Taking a last look at the prone form on the bed, he moves to the corner where he sees a washbasin and a pitcher of water, filling the basin with it. Searching around, he finds a pair of towels and a clean tunic. Moving closer to the bed, he put the items on the nightstand before taking off his armour, the shirt he wears under it more comfortable than his leathers. “Well, Commander. As much as I can enjoy having you sweaty and tired under my hands, I will not take any pleasure from it today. We need to put you on a clean tunic and move the little party of whimpers under the sheets.”
“You are insufferable.”
Dorian chuckles while pulling off his hand. “Probably. But I’m your insufferable friend, so lend me a hand with this. Hands up, Commander.”
Cullen grunts at him, but raises his arms, helping him to slip off the sweaty tunic from his body. Dorian let it fall to the ground before kneeling on the bed, potion bag with him. “I brought some medicines with me. Nothing fancy, but they will help you to deal with the so called secret you don’t want to share with me, but I discovered anyway. Do you mind?”
The Commander blushes softly, giving him a curt nod before avoiding to look at him, while he pours some embrium concentrated on the water. The scent of the plant filled the room as soon as he soaks one of the towels on it, wringing the excess of water before using it to wash as much as possible of the sweat from the Commander’s body. His hands never stop working while he talks. “I knew it from months now, Cullen. I’m a mage, I can sense the lyrium on the other Templars, just like I sensed it in you while we were on Haven. The scent of it on you has been disappearing gradually, while your symptoms started to be more noticeable. I will have loved to have you telling me the truth, you know.” He dries his skin with the clean towel before forcing him to turn over his belly to wash his back. “I waited, and waited, and waited a bit more, but you never came to me to talk about it. And you know what? I may have helped you. I believe I still can do it, but I need to know that you want my help besides of nursing you while you are at your worst.”
Ending with the cleaning, he turns Cullen on his back again, helping him to put on the clean tunic before forcing him to lay under the sheets. Sitting back while Dorian returns the wash basin to its place, Cullen rests his back on the headboard, patting the side of the bed when Dorian returns. “No one can help me, Dorian. I brought this upon myself years ago. Even after seeing what the lyrium can do to your body, I can-- I just got enough. Enough of my lash, enough of their control over me, enough of fearing to leave the Order and end drooling myself in a corner of my home on Honnleath.”
Dorian takes his hand, feeling the tremors on it and using his own hands to stop it. “There is where you are wrong, my friend. You know that our Templars didn’t take lyrium, Maker forsake us for giving them a tool to stop the magisters.” He shrugs, like thinking on the stupidity of his countrymen. “Anyway, the mages can get addicted to the Lyrium too, is complicated yes, because we synthesised it better, but is not an unheard feast.” Cullen just twitches his fingers a bit, tilting his head to the side. “I asked Mae for the recipe of the drought they use to calm the withdrawal symptoms. Nothing magical involved, not even lyrium on the recipe, just a lot of expensive ingredients that I already gathered for you. So tell me, Cullen. Do you want to give it a try and let me help you to survive this crusade?”
Cullen leans his head on the headboard, closing his eyes. “I’ve been scared of falling again to it. I didn’t want to come back to it, but the Inquisition is so important, my work so crucial, that I can’t be at least at 100%. My biggest fear is not dying, is failing. Failing the Inquisitor, failing Cassandra, failing Leliana and the Ambassador. I committed my life to the Inquisition, Dorian, and I’m ready to pay whichever the price it asks.”
With a sigh, Dorian let his hand go, cupping his face between his hands and forcing him to face him. Waiting until he opens his eyes, he gives him one of his annoyed looks. “Yeah, yeah. I know it, every word of it. You swore for your life and honour to be better, to do more, to work until your fingers bleed. I’m not asking about that. I know it perfectly, Cullen. What I’m asking is, do you want my help to deal with it and give you the chance to be a better version of yourself than you already are?”
“Maker, yes. Yes, Dorian.”
With a giggle, Dorian let his hands fall, “My oh my, Commander. You don’t know how long I wanted to hear those words from you. But I always imagined it shorter breathed and laboured, but I will have to work with it.” With a wink, Dorian recovers the bag of potions, picking up a little vial with a green liquid. Cullen is blushing deeply but is ready to answer him, so Dorian decides to use the card of ‘info about the potion’ to distract him. “It is made of crystal grace, felandaris, vandal aria and royal elfroot. You had to take one each day during a week. Then we have to move to a lower dose until you didn’t need it, for mages it tends to be around a month, but maybe you will need to do it a bit longer. It will stop the fever, the trembling and calm your anxiety, helping you to sleep.” He moves the vial closer to him but moves it away as soon as Cullen tries to pick it up. “I have a condition to give it to you and produce the rest you will need. You have to promise me to take better care of yourself. Jumping meals and having only a few hours of sleep will only aggravate the symptoms. If you can't promise me this, I will come here to keep you company until I nurse you into a healthy Commander, and you know how annoying I can be.” Cullen nods to him, face still blushed because of his words.
Just then, a knock at the door signals the arrival of their meal. Dorian stands from the bed, giving the vial to Cullen before moving near the ladder. “I’m coming!” Turning to face Cullen, he crosses his arms while the man keeps the flask on his hand. “Drink it, Commander. Our meal awaits downstairs, but I will stay here until you do it.” Rolling his eyes, Cullen opens the vial and drinks its contents in a long gulp, face grimacing at the aftertaste. “Good boy. Take a sip of the brandy while I pick up the meal.”
Picking up the bottle from the nightstand, Cullen takes a long gulp, washing away the bitter taste of the potion. He still had the vial on his hands when Dorian’s head appears on the hole. A tray filled to the rim of pots shows next, the clattering sound of it making Cullen ask himself how the mage has done it to climb the ladder with it on his hands. Picking up the tray from the floor, Dorian returns to the bed, pushing away Cullen’s leg to let himself fall on it. “You need to ask for a room in the Keep. I refuse to risk my neck every day to bring your food up there.”
Cullen is feeling the pressure that lived with him for the past months lifting from his head, the numbness of the potion doing its magic is a welcomed one. “You don’t have to bring me food, Dorian. I can take care of myself.”
“Sure! You have been doing very well since I meet you!” Cullen can swear that he can feel the sarcasm washing over him. “No way I’m going to leave you again under your poor care. You will ask Lavellan for a room inside, or I will do, and I will mortar the access to your tower.” Cullen is crossing his arms, retort ready on the tip of his tongue. “Don’t make me send a letter to Mia, Cullen.” That silences the Commander definitively, and Dorian can’t hide the grin on his face. “I will nurse you to health even if you hate me after that. I won’t let my only friend here go to waste for being the most stubborn man I ever knew.” He pushes the tray in his direction, lowering his gaze to look at the food. “Let’s see what Cassandra had sent for us.”
Picking up a piece of bread, Cullen waits until Dorian moves his hand closer to the food to grab it and squeeze it. “Thank you, Dorian. It will be my pleasure to let you nurse me.”
“My oh my, Cullen. I will remember you this words as soon as you are feeling well enough. But yes, it will be your pleasure, my friend.”