The Last Romantics
Varric and Bethany for @ladynorbert, thanks so much!
Sunshine has decided to read Swords and Shields.
Varric’s not in the habit of actively watching people read his work. He made one exception with the Seeker, though that was more of an accidental eavesdrop than a deliberate game of spying. At the time he was on his way to the tavern when he caught her outside reading his book—the book the Inquisitor asked him to write for her. She was about seventy percent through the novel. Compelled, Varric watched her find out what happened to the Knight Captain. She gasped, actually gasped in surprise with a lack of composure she never had while fighting, her cheeks red as buried her face in the pages. She must have gotten to the part where the guardsman broke the Knight Captain out of the prison and declared his love. It was drivel. Complete and utter drivel, the writing courtesy of spite and wine. The Tale of the Champion taxed him when he wrote. He had to make sure he was honest with every word. He didn’t need any of that with Swords and Shields. He only needed to have fun. As a result, so did Cassandra, So is Bethany.
Sunshine is having a blast reading Swords and Shields, and though he’s not in the habit of watching people read his books, he does peer at her as she reads, almost done with the novel. He’s sitting on his chair, half interested in editing his newest manuscript about the Inquisitor while she’s sprawled out on the loveseat. The fire crackles in the hearth. It’s not cold outside but it is chilly with the promise of a crisp autumn and snowy winter. But Varric commissioned only the finest craftsmanship for his home in Kirkwall, and Sunshine picked out the gold trimmings herself that adorn the mantle. If she could have a fire going, she would. She likes cozy and indeed Kirkwall has never been cozier, especially since they’re back home for good now, overseeing rebuilding efforts. He’d never attribute “cozy” to Kirkwall, but Sunshine makes it that way, especially in their home where she’s the brightest. Sunshine likes taking up space. She deserves it. He’ll let her have the bounty on as much space as she desires.
She smiles as she reads, occasionally laughing. Few sights are so delightful as Sunshine reading. Once books were all she had, a promise of the wider world beyond Lothering. Now free she still reads, and she’s just as thrilled by his attempts at romance in Swords and Shields as she is when he whispers something soft in her ear, or when he kisses her shoulder as they’re laying by the fire reading together on the furs. More than the pages of love, as even Varric’s own pages of love wax on about trials, and love, and love making it through the trials in only the most transcendent way, he’ll take a women reading and absorbing the words and seeing herself in the characters over even the most poetic words of on the subject. Empathy is the most romantic of things, to read something and see yourself in someone else’s shoes. Sunshine has always thought of others. He always thought his romances, particularly Swords and Shields as drivel, and perhaps it is to some. But not to Cassandra, he thinks with a small laugh. And not to Sunshine. They’ve found the truth in it.
Maybe after he writes the Inquisitor’s story he’ll start a new romance. He never had a muse before when he wrote romances. Now when he drafts and when he writes, he’ll think of his Sunshine.
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Was written for me and is lovely and fluffy and sweet. 😊
