Archive of Our Own ^beta

They had made camp for the night, after a long day of travel. Willow had woven protective spells around the campsite to protect it, and Gwen, the party’s cleric, was mulling a pot of wine over the campfire, her heavy iron-bound staff laid aside for the moment.  Robard had his sword at his side as always, but he also had his feet up by the fire.

It would have been perfect if Alaric, their newly acquired thief, hadn’t been huddled in his cloak, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand and sniffling. She exchanged glances with Robard and Gwen. Alaric sneezed, and Willow didn’t say anything. Maybe it was the change in the weather. He sneezed again, louder, and Robard cleared his throat. Gwen turned up her hands, as if to say it was up to Willow.

Alaric sneezed again, a damp “Hwshooo!”

“All right,” Willow said. “We’re talking about this. You’re sick again, aren’t you?”

Alaric looked up as if he were trying to explain to a city guard that he hadn’t meant to steal that pouch of coins. “It’s just a little sniffle. You know, now that you mention it, I think I might be getting a cold.”    

“This is an intervention,” Robard said, sitting down on Alaric’s other side. “We’re worried about you, and we also want to know what the hell is going on.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Here’s the thing,” Gwen said. “You were sick when we met you, six weeks ago, right?”

“I told you, I was getting over a cold.”

“And you sniffled and sneezed for a few days, and then Robard started sniffling, too–“

“Same cold,” Alaric said.

“That’s what we thought, and Gwen did her healing on both of you, and you both got better. And then when we got to the Fell Labyrinth, you started getting sick again.”

“The barmaid in the tavern where we stayed had a cold,” Alaric said. “And I caught it.”

Willow pressed the point. “You sneezed the entire time we were in the dungeon, every monster in miles could hear us, and you stole Gwen’s handkerchief–“

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that, mine was soaked and I was desperate,” Alaric said, not sounding sorry enough for Willow’s taste.

“And then when Gwen tried to heal you, you said that she should save her energy, and practically ran away from her. And now you’re sneezing again.”

“And your point is?” Alaric asked. “Actually, excuse me for a second, I have to … hnngh’chhoo!” He sneezed thickly into what Willow recognized at that moment as Robard’s handkerchief.

“That doesn’t belong …” she began.

Robard held up a hand for her to let it be. “Our point is, what is up with you?”

“If you’re ill with something serious, I can help if you’ll let me heal you,” Gwen said. “Heal you now, when we’re not heading into combat. I could do a greater healing now and still have enough credit built back up with Taniel to do combat healing by the time we start our next job.”

“Or if it’s allergies, tell us you have allergies,” Robard said. “There’s a healer in the next village who does a perfectly good allergy tonic. Willow uses it every spring, don’t you, Willow?”

“I get hay fever,” Willow said in a tone that she hoped discouraged further conversation about it.

“If I had allergies, Robard wouldn’t have caught my cold,” Alaric pointed out.

“Maybe that was a coincidence,” Robard said. “Something going around in town. Nobody else caught whatever you had when we were in the labyrinth.”

“Gwen was healing all of you,” Alaric pointed out. “Several times a day.”

Robard looked like he was losing his temper. “Because we kept getting attacked, because you–“

Willow put a hand on Alaric’s arm and decided to try being reasonable. “Look, I’m a wizard. If you’re under a curse, I can break the curse.”

Alaric looked as if his reply being dragged out of him reluctantly. “Not a curse from the gods.”

“That’s easy. I’ll ask Taniel to–“ Gwen began.

“Not a greater curse from the gods.”

Her expression grew more uncertain. “If I promise her some favors–“

“Not a greater curse from Taniel.”

There was a moment’s silence. “What did you do?” Gwen asked finally.

“I stole from the Temple of Healing,” Alaric said. He held up a finger for them to wait, sneezed a wet “hsshhhooo!” into the stolen handkerchief, hesitated for a moment as if unsure whether he was going to do it again, and then continued. “I stole this great big cup thing, because I had a really wealthy buyer interested. And, admittedly, to see if I could do it.”

“You stole the Chalice of Last Resort?” Gwen asked in disbelief.

“And I tried to fight the priest of Taniel who came after me for it. And he cursed me to contract every possible disease until I died.”

“Taniel’s priesthood is merciful. Usually,” Gwen qualified.

“The fact that I’d kicked him in the balls just previously might have had something to do with that.”

“You should be dead,” Gwen said. “I mean, not that I think that was right of him, just that I’m not sure why you’re not dead.”

“I came pretty near it,” Alaric said. “I staggered into the next town, burning up with fever, found their only temple, and dumped every gem and valuable I had on the altar to Wrenth.”

“The god of the law?” Gwen asked, her voice ascending even further.

“Beggars can’t be choosers. Besides, that many diamonds given willingly in search of divine aid makes an impression in a temple that requires honest dealing from its priests. They were eating beans for every meal when I got there.”

“The curse?” Willow prodded.

“They couldn’t remove the curse. Apparently Wrenth said the priest was fighting a just fight to retrieve their sacred chalice, so that they could heal other people, et cetera et cetera. But they could make the curse more specific. Now the curse is that I’ll contract every possible head cold, until I die, but since I won’t die of colds … here we are.”

“Define ‘every possible,’” Gwen said.

“They taught theological law in your temple, too? I don’t get sick if I’m not around other people. Someone has to expose me to a cold for me to catch it. But if anyone has a cold, anywhere around me, I will catch it. And healing won’t cure it, I just happened to be getting better already the first time Gwen tried. It has to go away on its own.”

“But it’s a real cold,” Willow said. “So we can catch it, too.”

“And Gwen can heal you. She just can’t heal me.”

They figured out how to manage it, as time went on. They needed to be out in the wilderness for several days before a serious job, long enough to see whether Alaric started to sneeze. If he did, they would camp while he endured his usual sniffly cold philosophically and everyone else got daily healing to fend off the same complaint. They only stayed in taverns overnight when they had to, and only if Willow had ducked inside to make sure the customers looked healthy.

She made the mistake of taking some time to fetch ale from the crowded bar one night, and came back to find Alaric chatting up a pretty barmaid. Whose hair was golden, and whose figure was more generous than Willow’s wiry frame, and whose nose was distinctly pink. And who was sneezing apologetically into Alaric’s own borrowed handkerchief as they talked.

“I can’t thank you enough. I’ve never had such a cold,” she said.

“Don’t worry, I’m here to look after you,” Alaric said, and actually took the handkerchief back to wipe the girl’s nose teasingly. The girl beamed at him, and Willow wanted to kill him.

She caught him as he started to follow the girl upstairs. “Alaric, no,” she said.

“It doesn’t matter,” Alaric said, sounding a little manic. “Don’t you see, it doesn’t matter? I was going to get it from the moment she walked in the room. I might as well have someone to comfort me in my infirmity. Unless you’re volunteering?”

It was an invitation that Willow might not have refused, if it hadn’t been made in mockery. “Do what you want,” she said, and went upstairs to bed.

She tried not to listen to any sounds from Alaric's room next door, even when in the small hours of the morning they became the sounds of increasingly violent sneezing. She was tossing and turning with a pillow over her head when the door to the room, which she had locked, opened.

She was preparing to curse Alaric when he staggered into the room. “Willow, I don’t feel good,” he said plaintively, and then sneezed six times without stopping.

“You have a cold,” Willow said, trying to squash her instinctive sympathy. “Again.”

“It’s never–hrusshuu!–been this bad,” Alaric said hoarsely. “My nose–hrusshuu!–itches like it’s on fire. And my head aches. And I don’t want–hrrcchhoo!–to sneeze anymore because it isn’t helping but I can’t stop.”

“Maybe you should sit down,” Willow said, getting up to guide him to sit on the edge of the bed.

Alaric bent his forehead to his knees and sneezed another dozen times. “It’s making me–esshhuu, esshuuu, esshhu’esshuu’esshhuu!–dizzy,” he said unhappily.

“Catch your breath,” Willow said when the onslaught of sneezes seemed to be over for the moment. She rested her hand on the back of his neck, and then frowned. She could feel the prickle of magic there, not just the curse. “I’ll be back,” she said, and handed him her own handkerchief grudgingly.

She went out into the hall in her nightshirt to wake Gwen. “Something’s wrong with Alaric,” she said. “More than the usual. I think his new friend might have cast something on him.”

“Let’s have a chat with her,” Gwen said, pulling on a robe.

They opened the door to Alaric’s room, and found the barmaid propped up against the pillows, sniffling into Alaric’s handkerchief. “What did you do to our friend?” Willow demanded.

The girl looked miserably sick. “Nothing–attchuu!–but pass the time–attchuu! There’s no harm in that.” She ducked her face into the handkerchief. “You don’t want to be in here, miss, I have such a cold.”

“I’m a healer,” Gwen said, and approached to the bed.

“Pass the time," Willow said skeptically.

“We only talked,” the girl said. “Your friend said we needn't do more, since I was poorly. And then he-attchuu! Attchhu! He seemed to catch my cold,” she said. “I never dreamed it could come on me so fast.”

Gwen waved a hand over the girl’s head and frowned. “There’s wizard magic here.”

The girl looked guilty. “There was a wizard who-attchuu! Offered me coin,” she admitted. “All in black robes with real gold trimmings. He came–attchuu! While you were stabling your horses. He said that … that he’d pay … attchuu-attchuu-asshuuu! I’m sorry, miss, my cold’s that bad. The wizard man said he’d pay me to get friendly with your friend. I didn’t mind that, your friend’s–asshuuu! Handsome enough, and the wizard said he had a sort of a joke to play on him.”

“That you should give him your cold.”

She nodded unhappily. “And he put a spell on me, to make my cold–asshuuu! Ten times worse than it should be. He said I’d come to no harm, that … kshuuu! That it was only a head cold, it wouldn’t go to my chest. But … ksshhuu! Miss, I can’t sleep, I’ve never sneezed so, not even when I have the hay fever. Can you heal me? I’d be ever so … attchuu, attchuu, attchuu!”

“You’ve been very foolish,” Gwen said. “But Willow here can take away the spell.”

Willow undid the magic, a bit reluctantly, and the girl gasped, looking relieved.

“That’s not so bad,” she said. “That’s no worse than it was before the wizard came.”

“I won’t heal your cold,” Gwen said. “You deserve it. And when you next have hay fever–“

“Gwen,” Willow warned, because she recognized the look of Gwen about to do something she’d regret later.

“Just don’t do it again,” Gwen snapped, and left the girl huddled in Alaric’s bed. “It would serve her right if hay fever cures never worked for her again,” she said once in the hall outside.

“Yes, but we’re good people,” Willow said as if talking to a small child. “So we don’t do things like that.”

Gwen opened the door of Willow’s room. Alaric was curled up in a ball, sneezing over and over again into a fold of the blanket. He uncurled as he saw Gwen, and tried to put on a brave face, but it didn’t help that he immediately had to sneeze again.

“Gwen, I’m sick,” he said hoarsely.

“I see that,” Gwen said, reasonably kindly. She waved a hand over his head, and shook her head regretfully. “I still can’t lift the curse, Alaric. But Willow broke the spell, so you should be feeling better.”

“I don’t think so,” Willow said as she sat down and touched Alaric’s shoulder. It heaved under her hand as he stifled another sneeze. “The spell was to make her cold ten times worse. Then she gave it to Alaric. Now he’s sick with the cold she gave him. It’ll pass like a normal cold, but I can’t make it less intense.”

“It’s fine,” Alaric said in a choked voice. “Don’t worry about me.”

“You’ll be all right, I think,” Gwen said. “Do you want me to turn the girl out of your bed so that you can be in it? I take it she’s lost her charm?”

“I’m just going to lie here,” Alaric said, and sneezed. “Thank you.”

Gwen looked at Willow, who shrugged and nodded. Gwen went out, and Willow tentatively smoothed Alaric’s hair.

“I think I’m dying,” he croaked.

“You’re not dying.”

“I … oh, no, no, no, I’m not going to sneeze again,” he said in a strained voice, throwing his head back and closing his eyes. “I shouldn’t have stolen that thing, I … just wanted to make a name for myself, I didn’t … c-care what it was … ah, don’t want to sneeze …”

“Yes, but you have to, though,” Willow said, her hand on his shoulder.

He exploded into a violent “hrshuuu!” and kept sneezing just as violently. “Hrrshuu! Hrrshuu! Hrrshh’hhgghh! Hrrasshhh! Ugh,” he muttered, and clapped the sodden handkerchief to his nose in a vain attempt to staunch its flow.

Willow climbed onto the bed beside him, and coaxed him to shift until his head was pillowed on her thigh. She stroked his hair again.

“You’re being nice to me,” he said suspiciously.

“Now you notice.”

His eyes opened at that, and he rolled over onto his back enough to look up at her. “Willow–“

“We cannot have this conversation right now,” she said. “You’re sick, and I’m … weirdly susceptible to you being vulnerable, apparently.”

He curled up on his side again. “I just hate … hsshuuu! Feeling this sick, and I know I deserve it, but … hrrgghhh’chhh!”

“You don’t,” Willow said. “You made a mistake. And an enemy, apparently. Do you remember pissing off a wizard lately? Wears black and gold?”

“The last time I was here,” Alaric said. “Before I met you. I stole his … arrr’sshuuu! Ugh. I don’t remember what I stole.”

“Maybe if you stopped, you’d have more friends,” Willow said.

“I’m a thief. It’s the … it’s the … it’s …” Willow rested her hand on his shoulder as he crumpled into the sneeze. “Gsshhuuu! I feel safe when I’m stealing things,” he said without opening his eyes. “It’s probably very psychological. I had a sad childhood. I really don’t want to talk about it right now. Oh, I think I’m going to sneeze and I don’t want to sneeze and I think I’m going to sneeze–“

“Trying to hold them back just makes it worse,” she said.

“Hrr’sshuuu! Hrrusshhhh! Hrrusshhh! I hate this,” he complained. “I really hate sneezing. I didn’t love it before the curse, and now I am just so tired of … hnngchh!” He stifled the sneeze fiercely, and winced as if that hurt.

“I think maybe if you could really sneeze hard, it might give you some relief for a while,” Willow said.

He rolled over to look up at her incredulously. “That’s what I’ve been doing.”

“I mean, hard enough to get the irritation out. It’s … more irritation, so maybe that means it takes more to …”

“I hate that this sounds plausible,” Alaric said. “Actually, it doesn’t matter, because I can’t need to sneeze more than I already do.” He wrinkled his nose, sneezed harshly, and spread his hands as if that proved his point.

“Want to find out?” Willow asked. Alaric managed to look skeptical through his discomfort. “It’s a very minor charm,” she said. “Mainly used for student pranks. It’s to make someone ... what you’re thinking.”

“That sounds terrible, please do it before I think about it too much,” Alaric said.

It was an easy charm, just a thread of magic slipping past his abused nostrils to find the spot higher up in his nose where it would tickle.

 Alaric clapped the handkerchief to his face, muttering urgently. “Going to sneeze going to sneeze going to sneeze …” He was twisting against the invisible touch, every muscle tensing as he tried to hold back the necessary release. “Too much, too much!”

She withdrew the touch at once, and he made a noise of frustration. “You said ‘too much,’” she said.

“I did,” he said raggedly, and turned his head to muffle a choked sneeze against her thigh. When he spoke again, his voice was uneven. “But I really really need this to stop, so please do that again?”

She twisted the thread of magic against that sensitive spot again, and he gasped, but nodded urgently. She kept twisting it, tickling and tickling, and his breath began to hitch. “Heh … ehhh … ehhhh ….” His face was screwed up miserably, his fists clutching handfuls of blankets, and she thought for sure he was going to tell her to stop again, but he managed to nod instead, and she persisted. “Heh, hah, ahh-ahh-ahhh ….”

“Now let go,” she said.

“AHHHISSHOOOOO!” The sneeze was nearly a scream, but the expression of relief the moment afterwards was transcendent. “Oh, gods, Willow, that actually helps. Gods. I think I’m going to do it again.” She helped urge the building sneeze along, flicking that teasing thread again, and he roared out another massive “AHHHHHSHHOOOO!” He threw his head back, panting for breath.

“Maybe one more?” she said. “Really scratch that itch?”

He nodded, and she sent magic threading through his sinuses one more time. “Ahh, ahh … ahh … ahhhh ….” She watched as his face crumpled, and withdrew the thread of magic a moment before the sneeze roared through him. “AHHSHHHHOOOO!”

He stayed curled in a ball for a moment afterwards, breathing hard with his head on her thigh, and then started to uncurl.

“Easy,” she said, stroking his forehead as he rolled over to look up at her. She reached for the handkerchief, realized it was soaked already, and let him dry his face on the hem of her nightshirt.

“I’m making a mess,” he said ruefully. “I am a mess. But, oh, Willow, that’s better. It actually feels like when your nose itches and you sneeze and you’re done.”

“Try and sleep a while, then,” she said, and drew him up to lie beside her. He rested his head on her shoulder tiredly, and she put her arms around him. His breathing was still sniffly, but he wasn’t sneezing, and after a while he relaxed in her arms as if he trusted that he wouldn’t immediately start.

“Weirdly susceptible to me being vulnerable?” he murmured after a while.

She kissed his forehead. “Hush. Sleep.”

“I promise I won’t steal from wizards anymore,” he said, and she supposed that was as much of a lesson as he was going to draw from this.

“You’d better not,” she said, and kissed him again to make him smile.