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Cullen had never been more grateful for Vastra’s presence at Skyhold than he was this week. Half the keep was sick with this blasted Antivan Flu. He and Leliana had blessedly been spared and Saibra was dealing with some red Templar holdouts in the Hinterlands, but Josephine had been one of the first to take ill (though she insisted that in Antiva it was called Nevarran Flu). If he and Leliana had needed to take over diplomatic duties, they would probably have started a war with some minor Orlesian noble. Instead, Vastra had swept in and was handling it beautifully, and he could concentrate on filling the holes the flu had caused in his guard rotations.
“Cullen, I need you!” The first indication Cullen had of trouble was when his door slammed open, bouncing off the wall. The second was Vastra’s harried expression. The third was when Kitty leaned away from her mother and was sick all over his floor.
“Kitty has the flu?” he asked, heading to one of the other doors to ask someone to send for a member of the household staff. He’d have to remember to recommend a pay increase for them once the sickness had passed.
“Kitty has the flu,” Vastra agreed. “And I have to meet with the Comte DuBois in 10 minutes.” She unceremoniously shoved her younger daughter into his arms. “You need to look after her for an hour.”
“Me? ” Cullen gaped at his betrothed’s sister. “What about Nettie?”
“Looking after Marie. I’m keeping them apart. One sick child is enough.”
“Jim?” he asked, hope fading as Vastra shook her head.
“The healers just sent him to his bed. It has to be you Cullen.”
“But…” he sputtered, “I have–“
“She’s too sick to cause trouble.” Vastra brushed away some damp locks and pressed a quick kiss to her daughter’s sweat-soaked forehead. “Bye-bye, little Cat. Be good for Uncle Cullen.” She swept out of the room before Cullen could protest further.
The first half hour was easy. Vastra was right that Kitty was too ill to do much. Instead, he retrieved a blanket from a chest in his old loft and she curled up on the couch opposite him and slept. His guards were happy to take the instruction that–unless Skyhold was under attack–only Vastra or a cleaner were to be admitted to his tower. Actually, he got more work done that morning than he had the rest of the week when he was being brought constantly updated lists of soldiers the healers had ordered off duty.
Unfortunately, half an hour was all Kitty seemed to want to sleep for before she raised her ashen face and asked, “Uncle Cully?”
Cullen rose and went to the couch immediately. For all he had protested babysitting duty he was incredibly fond of Saibra’s nieces. “How are you feeling, sweetling?”
Kitty scrutinised him carefully, pale blue eyes wide in her wan face. “I’m feeling sad because I am feeling poorly.” Cullen didn’t have time to answer before the child followed up with, “Can I have a treat now?”
“A treat?” The little girl nodded emphatically. “What sort of treat?”
“Chocolate will make me and Buddy feel better.” It was said with such conviction that Cullen had to fight to suppress his smile.
Schooling his features and deciding to ignore her request he asked, “Is Buddy feeling sick, too?”
“Uh huh. That’s why we need chocolate.” Cullen should have known she wouldn’t give up on that. He had thought Saibra was stubborn but she had nothing on the toddler before him.
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea, sweetling. Why don’t we try some broth first?”
“No. Chocolate is magic. It cures everything.” Then she pulled out the oldest trick in the book. Her eyes widened, and her lower lip began to waver. Cullen was lost. He hoped the Inquisition’s enemies never discovered how easily he could be manipulated by a three-year-old girl threatening tears.
“A little bowl of broth? Then chocolate after?” The compromise was the best he could hope for. Kitty examined him for his truthfulness, then nodded her agreement.
Cullen instantly sent a runner for the food, hoping desperately the broth would either tire her or make her sick enough to rethink the chocolate. He should have known that even Kitty’s stomach was subject to her iron will and as soon as she finished eating she demanded her chocolate. Unwilling to be called a liar, he retrieved a few squares from a drawer in his desk.
Kitty was just finishing the last of it, when Vastra arrived to collect her daughter.
“Cullen Rutherford, what did you give her?” she asked in dismay, examining Kitty’s chocolate stained mouth.
Cullen winced under the lady’s furious glare. “She seemed much better. And she managed to keep a bowl of broth down. I promised–“
“Mama, I don’t feel well,” Kitty interrupted. And then she vomited all down Cullen’s front.
Cullen was sure he could hear Vastra’s laughter all the way to the bathhouse.