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Nicole felt the sneeze coming and groped for her kerchief, finding the crumpled cloth just in time to smother her sneeze. She curled into herself, grimacing as her sore throat twinged from the pressure. As she wiped away stray water from her sore eyes, Nicole growled a raspy, weak curse and tossed her beleaguered nosecloth onto her desk.
The whole tower was sick. A merchant with a sniffle had unloaded his goods with the quartermaster ten days prior, and, despite concerted efforts to keep the sickness from spreading, it had infiltrated the ranks of mages and templars alike.
It always started with a tickle, just in the back of the throat, and an achy feeling of malaise. Perhaps there’d be a sneeze or two that first day, but it could easily be shrugged away as too much dust, too much work, too much cold in this drafty tower with its innumerable small chinks in the mortar. But by the next day, the disease would have sunk its hooks deep into the back of your throat, inching its nefarious way down into the chest to pull wracking coughs out. The fever, too, would have its way, chills and sweats so severe that you'd be shivering one moment and drench your clothing in the next. It was enough to knock you on your ass for a week, if it didn’t kill you.
Blessedly (and irritatingly), the spirit healers were somehow immune to this menace. Gus, Waverly, and the others not on lakeshore clinic duty had been flitting about the tower nonstop, bringing soup to the bed-bound and casting purifying barriers that they swore would allow people to pass without carrying the threat of contagion on their hands and clothing.
Some of the templars, especially the new ones, were suspicious of all this magic they had to walk through while traversing the tower on their patrols - but Nicole stood firm on the issue. This happened every winter. Frankly, the year Nedley took over and allowed the healing mages to perform their self-assigned quarantine protocol had been the first year that the Circle had recovered in mere weeks. Better that the few templars that were uninfected had to shiver their way through a few barriers than get infected and be relegated to bed.
Yet, although Nicole had followed Gus’s advice down to the word, she had contracted the damn thing just as her people were beginning to recover en masse. She had ignored the slight tickling in her ears and throat the day before, but this morning it was inescapable. Here she sat at her desk in the predawn gloom, shivering under the heavy fur of her cloak, wishing she could wrap herself in the bear skin in front of her fire and just sleep for a while.
Instead, Nicole tried to focus on the ledger in front of her. She’d done the math three times, but the numbers refused to reconcile with the calculations she had done just the day before. Growling to herself, hating the way her voice buzzed in her throat, she bent to quadruple-check her work.
Nicole blinked her eyes open and groaned. Everything was so bright and she ached, her body hot and sweaty. A knock came at her office door and she jerked from her slumped position on the desk, bringing a hand up to shield her eyes from the light as a headache throbbed into existence. Ow, fuck.
“Knight-Commander?” Gus called from outside the door.
Nicole cleared her throat, immediately regretting it when a jolt of pain shot down her neck and incited a cough. Brushing her hair back from her face, she tried to shake it off and choked out, “Come.”
The door opened for Gus, who carried a tea tray laden with snacks, and Calamity, who trotted inside and wagged her stubby tail at Nicole. As the door shut behind her, Gus looked Nicole over.
“Ah, seems like you’ve had a difficult morning, Nicole. How long have you been drooling on the desk?” Gus advanced to the other side of the desk and laid her tray down.
Nicole belatedly wiped her mouth, grimacing when she felt the line of dried saliva at the edge of her mouth. “I don’t know,” she said and swallowed around the pain. Her morning’s work was smeared and useless, scribbled notes and calculations that made absolutely no logical sense in the light of day. Her inkwell was open but miraculously hadn’t spilled, and her quill was crusted with dried ink. She went to clean up her mess with shaky hands. “What time is it?”
Gus settled into a chair. “Nine-thirty. I was in the apothecary when Calamity came to tell me that you were in need of a break.”
At the mention of her name, Calamity woofed and trotted over to shove her massive head under Nicole’s hand. Nicole scowled, scritching the soft spots behind her mabari’s pointy ears despite her irritation at the dog’s meddling ways. “I’m fine.”
“Mhm.” Gus poured the tea, adding a generous spoonful of honey to Nicole’s cup. “You seem absolutely fine.”
Nicole reached for her cup, but Gus intercepted her hand. As their fingers touched, a wave of healing magic coursed up Nicole’s arm, soothing her feverish trembles and spreading cooling relief along her throat and head.
Nicole sighed, relaxing muscles she didn’t know were tensed, then twisted her mouth into a frown. “You know I don’t like being managed, Gus.” She retrieved her cup and sipped, letting the warmth and sweetness coat her throat.
Gus smiled. “Then you’re going to hate this. Knight-Captain Robin is completely recovered from his bout with this illness and would be able to take command for a few days.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Everyone who gets this particular illness needs to get plenty of sleep. It kills many people every winter. In the Circle, we may be able to prevent deaths through careful management of our patients,” here, Gus pointed at Nicole, “but that benefit only happens if our patients get plenty of rest.”
Nicole looked away. She was still scritching Calamity, who had settled with her head on the arm of Nicole’s chair and was groaning in doggy joy whenever Nicole hit the right spot.
“I’ll even assign you your own personal healer, to make the illness pass more quickly.” The sly tone of Gus’s voice was unmistakable.
Nicole hadn’t seen Waverly since the illness began sweeping through the tower, and she was loath to admit that she missed the tiny mage after only a little over a week. She shook her head, defying her alpha side’s eagerness to see her omega. “You need every healer you have. Besides, I feel much better now.”
“Right now you do, but magic can only soothe symptoms for a short time, and it will get much worse before it gets better. You need rest, fluids, and medicine, in that order. I can’t order you to bed, but I can appeal to your professionalism. Are you really going to be an effective leader like this?”
Nicole bit her cheek, recalling her fuzzy-headedness that morning. “Fine. I’ll take a day to rest.”
Gus scoffed. “Three days, at minimum, to rest and regain strength under constant medical care.”
“Fine,” Nicole growled. “I assume you’ve talked to Robin?”
“Yes, he’s perfectly willing to expand his responsibilities for a short time.”
Nicole sighed. Despite herself, she was relieved at the opportunity to rest - even now, she could feel Gus’s magic waning as the sickness renewed its onslaught on her body. “I’ll write him a note.”
"Good," Gus said, and reached for a pastry. "Now, wipe the ink off your face and then tell me about your symptoms."
Despite her surrender, Nicole decided to do just a bit more work after Gus left, even as her fever returned and her eyes grew heavy. This is why she yet again found herself drooling on parchment as she woke.
“Oh, Nicole.”
Cool hands pressed against Nicole’s brow, waves of healing energy soaking into her skin and pooling in her skull, trickling down her throat as they washed the pain away. Nicole groaned in relief, cracking her eyes open to see Waverly’s worried face. Her scent curled around them, sweet and floral against the dampness of the Tower and scent of candle wax.
“Hi,” Nicole croaked. A tickle in her chest curled her into a spasm of coughing, unmitigated by the magic continuing to pour into her. She sat up and tried to catch her breath as the coughing trailed off. “Ow.”
Waverly huffed at her. “You’re supposed to be in bed.”
“I had something to do.”
“It can wait. Bed.”
Nicole crooked an eyebrow, the relief of her pain making her giddy. “Isn’t that normally what I say?”
Waverly narrowed her eyes. “I’m glad Calamity came to get me. Gus said to give you some time, but you clearly aren’t using it wisely.”
Calamity boofed from somewhere behind Nicole and she sighed. “Calamity thinks I need constant watching.” She smothered another cough but it lingered, waiting for a chance to wrest free from her control.
“She’s right, you’re obviously unsuited to taking care of yourself. Stubborn, too.”
Nicole opened her mouth to protest, but Waverly hushed her, tugging on her arm. “Up, let’s go get you settled so I can pour medicine into you.”
Nicole winced, knowing that medicine meant bitter, oversweet syrups and teas, but she obeyed. When she stood, however, the movement was too swift. Her head spun and she staggered as Waverly steadied her.
Somehow, they maneuvered into Nicole’s chambers. Nicole groped for the buckles on her armor but Waverly brushed her hands aside, undoing each with brisk efficiency. Nicole didn’t protest; her focus was on not coughing and standing upright, which was much more difficult than it had seemed only that morning. When the last piece of equipment was discarded and Nicole had stepped out of her trousers at Waverly’s command, she was finally allowed to stumble to her bed in just her shirt and underclothes.
With a gesture, Waverly lit the fire in Nicole’s immense fireplace. Nicole watched from the bed as Waverly retrieved her satchel, spreading out herbs and sealed bottles on the table. A small mortar and pestle joined them as Waverly selected her ingredients and began to grind them down to powder.
“How have you been?” Nicole asked, watching the little crinkle in Waverly’s forehead as she worked. The tickle in Nicole's chest sparked a short cough, but she was able to keep it to a minimum.
“Busy. Do you know how whiny templars get when they’re sick? Especially the alphas, Andraste give me patience. They’re either dramatic or utterly stoic. Mages are much more practical.”
Nicole shuffled, but didn’t defend her compatriots. She could envision that exact constellation of behavior from experience. “I’m glad we have healers here to help. The clinics must be stretched pretty thin by now.”
“Mm. This particular illness sweeps through Ferelden at a difficult time of winter, but it seems a bit harsher this year.” Waverly looked up, eyeing Nicole before she continued. “Wynonna spent a whole week in bed last year, but hers was the worst case in our village. She’s so aggravatingly demanding when she’s sick that she’s lucky I love her.”
Nicole huffed. “Val was like that. Always exaggerating the simplest injury or illness into a life-altering event.”
Waverly had paused, looking at Nicole with an odd expression. “Val?”
Nicole waved a hand. “One of my sisters, the youngest besides me. She was maybe thirteen when I left for templar training, and she definitely inherited my father’s flair for the dramatic."
“Oh.” Waverly resumed her tasks, tapping the herbal mixture into a cup and adding a dollop of something from a red bottle. “You don’t speak of your family much.”
“They’re not much on my mind. I was closest to Val, and we kept up a correspondence after I left, but after a while we drifted apart.” Nicole shrugged, her regret softened by time and distance. “Father had written me off as a threat to Bryant’s inheritance, and Mother didn’t defend me. Maybe, someday, I’ll see one of my siblings again, but I have my duty to attend to.”
“The Chantry does make a habit of splitting families, doesn’t it?” Waverly asked, her tone dry. As Nicole combed through the fuzziness in her head, trying to think of a response, Waverly shook her head. “That’s rhetorical, anyway.” She strode to the fire with Nicole’s teapot in hand and, using a heavy fire mitt, swung the massive copper kettle away from the fire on its hinged stand.
Nicole watched as the hot water streamed into the teapot, steam wafting up to dissipate in the cool air of the room. She thought about Waverly’s connection to Wynonna and the betrayal of her other sister and her father, the way she’d been forced to flee her home. “Family means a lot to you.”
With a nod, Waverly stopped pouring and hung the kettle up. “Some family, yes. The family, born or found, who stand by you even when the world is against you. The ones that don’t, well. You have to learn to let some things go.”
Carefully, Waverly carried the pot back to the table and poured water into the cup she’d prepared. Then, she dropped a big steel tea strainer into the pot.
Nicole watched the ominously steaming cup. “Are you sure I need–”
“Gus warned me about your approach to medicine.” Waverly scooped up the cup and stalked closer to the bed, her face set in a scowl. “I am sure you need to drink this, and if you don’t do it on your own I’ll have Calamity sit on you while I hold your nose shut and spoon it into you.”
Calamity woofed pleasantly from her bed by the fire. Nicole shot her a betrayed glance. “Traitor.”
“You’re just prolonging the inevitable. Here,” Waverly stuck a finger in the cup and a trickle of magic wisped into it, icy blue and transient as a snowflake on skin, “It doesn’t have to be hot to drink, so just hold your nose and drink it fast. I’ll have some regular tea for you when you’re done.” With that, she handed the cup to Nicole and turned back to the table.
Nicole briefly considered dumping the foul-smellng cupful onto the stones beside the bed, but the thought of Waverly’s long-suffering wrath had her doing as instructed. As expected, it was awful, bitter and earthy and too too sweet, with a lingering sourness that made her mouth pucker. She stopped when she hit the dregs, pushing the cup away and trying to breathe away her sudden nausea.
“That’s a good templar,” Waverly said, holding a cup of regular tea under Nicole’s nose, “Now sip this.”
Nicole grabbed onto the familiar ambrosia and sipped, humming as the herbal taste was swept away by tea with milk and a touch of honey. A certain earthy flavor lingered, but she figured it would pass. Even as she cleared the medicine’s taste from her mouth, the aches and pains that had been creeping back since Waverly had healed her changed, lessening, and that persistent tickle in her chest abated. With a wet pop, one of her nostrils was suddenly open, followed closely by the other. She got her kerchief up just in time to catch a trickle of mucus that made a desperate bid for freedom. “Oh, wow.”
Waverly sat on the foot of the bed, smirking at her. “Worth it?”
Nicole yawned and her ears popped. She drank the last of her teacup and set it aside. “Feeling like this, I could go back to work.” She made as if to get up, but Waverly stopped her with a look. “What?”
“You need to rest.” Waverly drew out the last word. “Contagion isn’t something we can cure with magic, but medicine can manage the symptoms. However, it isn’t going to let you do much work.”
“What do you mean? I feel fine. Actually, I feel pretty good.” Nicole stretched back into her bed, letting her joints pop. She looked down at Waverly, who was still smiling at her. The smile made Nicole think back to the last time they’d been in this bed, a time when both of them had enjoyed themselves immensely. A warm feeling crept over her, a sort of heavy, happy lassitude. “You know…if I’m not allowed to work, I’ll have to do something to occupy my time.”
Waverly chuckled and sipped her tea. “Do you know what was in that medicine you drank?”
Surprised by the change in subject, Nicole glanced at the teacup she’d discarded to the little table beside her bed. “No, what?” As she turned her head back to see Waverly, her vision tilted slightly.
“Willow, ephedra, spindleweed, and elfroot. All enhanced by magic, of course, to take effect quickly and last a good long time.”
Nicole nodded along. “That seems normal.”
“Well… then there’s what I put into your tea.”
“What? In the tea?” Nicole’s head felt heavy, now, and she blinked slowly.
Waverly patted Nicole’s leg where it lay under the covers, then leaned forward to tuck the covers up to Nicole’s chin. “Yep. Poppy for the cough, the pain in your throat, and, most importantly, the refusal to rest.”
Nicole groaned, affronted, and tried to keep her eyes open. “You...you drugged me.”
Waverly smiled down at her, then laid a gentle kiss on her forehead. “Yes, I did. Sweet dreams, Knight-Commander.”
Nicole groped for Waverly with one arm. “Wai’, stay wi’ me?” She heard her words slur and tried to corral her tongue, it was extremely important that she communicate this last thing. “I slee’ bes’ when you’re here, Wav’rly.”
Nicole’s eyes slid shut for good just as Waverly climbed into bed to curl against her front. “I’ll be here, Nicole, now go to sleep.”