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It’s rare for a mage to get sick in a way the healers can’t cure. A blessing - for a mage in delirium can easily become a mage with powers out of control.Cullen leaps to volunteer for the watch and doesn’t buckle under the knowing smirks.Within two hours she’s screaming and her bedding catches fire. He has it snuffed out in seconds and feels a wave of relief, even pride at having protected her so well - right until Neria grows even more upset and he realizes the sudden loss of her mana must have terrified her all over again.He has never asked what it feels like, he realizes. Maybe he didn’t want to know.Them being alone, he sits on the edge of her bed.“Apprentice Surana?” The faux formality feels ridiculous when he’s at the same time reaching out a gauntleted hand to brush sweat-damp curls out of her face. “Neria. It’s just me.” He ducks his head, focuses on an applesauce stain on his sash. “I... I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you. But you were losing control and I’m guarding you, I had to…”She curls into him and he wishes he wasn’t wearing armor.He thinks he will be grateful for his armor’s spell resistance when the next thing she tries to set on fire is him but somehow she never touches him, even as the infirmary is wrecked by spells that have eluded her while healthy. She’ll be so upset she missed her own feats of magic.He is contemplating a glowing blue bottle to keep him going for the fourth shift in a row when he notices attentive eyes watching him.She is smiling, eyes still fever-bright yet also bright at seeing him.“You stayed,” she breathes, wonder in her voice.