Varric writes something at Cullen's expense (again)
MEREDITH STANNARD'S OFFICE, THE GALLOWS, KIRKWALL
‘You,’ the Knight-Commander of Kirkwall said, as Varric Tethras entered. He dragged his heels, reluctant to let go of the doorknob even as he pushed it shut behind him.
‘What can I do for you, Knight-Commander?’
Blithe, be blithe. Just give her what she wants.
What if it’s me?
Oh. Balls.
Meredith flashed him a cross look. ‘I hear you’ve been keeping my recruits up all night with those…’
She waved a hand dismissively. ‘Novels.’
Varric blinked.
‘Of yours.’
The Knight-Commander reached into a drawer and tossed a few books onto the table. It took Varric only a cursory glance to establish that they were, indeed, his. He was rather proud of those covers. It had cost him fifty Antivan crowns just to hire people to pose like that, much less…
Meredith Stannard interrupted his train of thought. ‘I understand you’ve been taking commissions.’
‘Uh.’ Varric had no idea where this was going. ‘How are your lyrium supplies doing these days, Knight-Commander? I’ve got a few more shipmen…’
She flicked away the rest of his sentence with a thin finger. ‘The books, Tethras. I am requisitioning your services.’
Varric choked. ‘What?’
***
Varric sat back in his chair at the Hanged Man and twirled his quill in his fingers.
Not bad, he thought. Considering the provenance of the request and the subject matter, which was… esoteric even by his exceedingly low standards. He had called Isabela in for a second opinion, and she had almost coerced him into giving her a copy. Almost.
‘Who commissioned you for this?’ She had read the novella twice already, and was flipping through it a third time.
‘If I told you, I’d have to kill myself.’
‘You think I wouldn’t be fine with that?’ She made a show of stuffing the papers into her bosom.
‘Isabela. Just…’ He held out his hand.
‘I’m kidding. Mmm. I’ll guess. Seneschal Bran.’
Varric almost snorted ale out his nose. ‘No. I wish. I would have told you.’
‘The Knight-Captain himself. He’s in it, after all. I knew he would swing that way.’
‘Cullen? He practically runs away if you mention the Rose to him. I’m tempted to bring this to him just so I can see him cry.’
Isabela examined the first sheet of parchment again, the one with the elaborate drawing on it. ‘Well, the Arishok, then,’ though she said it a little uneasily. Varric filed that away somewhere in his head. She looked at the picture again. ‘I mean, he is in it.’
She grinned, her momentary loss of cool gone. ‘And in the Knight-Captain.’
Varric groaned.
‘You wrote this.’
‘Doesn’t mean I approve of it.’
‘Sebastian.’
‘Oh, please. He’s not as repressed as he pretends to be.’
‘Anders.’
‘No, and it’s not any of our friends, before you go through the whole damn list.’
‘Divine Elthina.’
That was getting a little too close to the mark.
‘Is that the time?’ Varric announced. ‘I’ve got to get some beauty sleep. The hair on my chest just doesn’t grow this prettily otherwise. I have to get this bound properly tomorrow morning, you know.’
‘Divine Elthina?’
‘Don’t be absurd.’
‘You didn’t say no.’ She grinned and licked her lips.
‘Out.’
***
Leather cover, no title, passable as a journal or ledger. He paid the bookbinder and brought his wares to his client at her desk in the Gallows. She barely looked up at him as he came in.
‘It’s done,’ he said, and she nodded and tossed him a bag of coin as he handed over the slim, discreetly-bound book.
A cursory glance, a quick leaf through the pages, and she slipped the volume into a drawer and turned the key.
She leaned back in her chair. ‘Oh, and Master Tethras?’
Varric winced.
‘As I said. If I ever see this or hear of this spoken of outside this room, I’ll have your head mounted on a pike.’
‘Right you are,’ Varric said as cheerfully as he could manage, rubbing his throat as though to check it was still there.
MUCH, MUCH LATER, AFTER CULLEN BECOMES THE NEW KNIGHT-COMMANDER OF KIRKWALL
‘The room is ready for you, Knight-Ca… Knight-Commander,’ the recruit said, opening the door for Cullen. ‘Had to get a locksmith in to open the locked drawer, but I’ve cleared out the desk now, and left the contents in that box over there, on the…’
‘You can go,’ Cullen said. ‘Dismissed.’
He seated himself at the desk where Meredith had sat, remembered her cold, hard gaze. To be sitting in that chair felt odd. Perhaps he would settle into it.
He opened the box with a heavy sigh.
A slim, leatherbound volume sat on top of the stack of things. A journal, perhaps. He paused a moment before turning the cover.
‘What…’ A curse left his mouth.
There was no mistaking the picture on the first page.
‘By the… gods,’ Cullen Rutherford said, letting out another expletive. ‘Varric… Varric.’