Chapter Text
“Well, Cassandra seems to enjoy this book, though why did she call it a guilty pleasure?” Solera flipped the book over in her hand to examine the cover front to back. She knew it was no literary masterpiece, not with the way Varric described it. But Solera knew that not every book had to qualify as a masterpiece to be entertaining, and Cassandra found it entertaining enough to request a sequel. That and the way she bullied Varric into it, and she grinned as she remembered the look on his face. A mixture of resignation and irritation. Though, Solera did have to wonder at how Cassandra described something that gave her happiness. “How exactly is pleasure guilty?” Solera Adaar had many, many interactions with humans, elves, and dwarves but the intricacies of their languages still eluded her at times. She grew up surrounded by Tal-Vashoth, and though they spoke the common tongue, ofttimes times Qunlat didn’t translate well over to common. Which resulted in some of the sayings and slang being lost on Solera. “Do you think that I could get closer to her if I read it too?” Her answer was a drawn-out meow as the fluffy calico stretched in front of the fire, reached her paws in the air before settling on her back to let the fire warm her belly. “Well that doesn’t answer my question at all.”
Solera sank down to the plush carpet in front of the fire and opened the book in her lap, she reached over and idly stroked Ashkaari’s belly. Reading was a joy for her despite not getting that many opportunities to simply enjoy it. Books were a scarcity in her youth due to the nature of her parents’ employment, and then her own. She loved reading, getting lost in the pages as she imagined a world completely different than her own was something that helped her get through the pains of growing up. Romance had never been an area of interest for her, she preferred books that took her to another world instead. If Cassandra enjoyed it, then Solera was convinced she would as well.
The Great Hall
Solera narrowed her eyes as she spied Varric in his usual place by the fire. She stormed over to him and slammed the book down on the table. “Well, good evening to you too Inquisitor.” She silently opened the book to the page she had issues with and pointed her finger at the page. “Umm, are you having difficulties translating a phrase?”
“No. I want you to explain to me how in Thedas a leg is supposed to bend this way?” Varric’s jaw dropped slightly as he realized what book Solera was reading. He quickly recovered but it was too late to stop her from continuing. He waved his hands to hopefully cut off what she wanted to say but he knew it was a losing battle as soon as she opened her mouth. The Inquisitor could give the Seeker a run for her money on being bullheaded. “And honestly Varric, I expected better of you! A woman’s breast does not remain upright when she is lying down. And certainly do not stand at attention when he gazes at her. Surely, your editor would have caught that tidbit.” Solera grumbled as she read the passage aloud to Varric’s ever-growing horror.
“I get what you’re trying to say,” Varric yelled finally catching Solera’s attention. “I told you already, didn’t I? That type of writing isn’t my strongest suit.” Solera narrowed her eyes at him and he held his hands up defensively. “Since you insisted on me writing a sequel for the Seeker, I’ll ensure to pay attention to proper body part placement and descriptions.”
“See that you do Varric. I’m highly disappointed that you’d write the female body this way. Just because a woman is strong doesn’t mean they aren’t also soft. I’ve met Marian and Isabela so you aren’t bereft of inspiration for that type of character.” Varric’s jaw dropped fully at that realization.
“Wait, you’ve met Isabela? Isabela, the pirate queen?” Solera huffed and crossed her arms, popping yet another one of the seams on her shirt. Her eyes rolled skyward as she knew the lecture she would be getting later. Josephine would no doubt bring it to her attention and urge her to be more cautious. As if that would help, one good sneeze and the seams were popping yet again. If only she could just do away with the sleeves entirely.
“Is that what she calls herself now? Yes, I have met her.” Solera saw the grin on his face and she scoffed at what he must have assumed. “I did not know her in that way. Though flirting with her was enjoyable, it never went beyond that.” Varric grasped his chin. “So help me if you write that in your novel.”
“Never in my wildest dreams would I write about you like that Inquisitor.” Varric merely smiled as Solera gave him a skeptical glance over. “I’m hurt you don’t trust me.” Solera scoffed once again before she turned towards the doors as more visitors streamed in. “I’ve no doubt our lady ambassador will require your attention for these good folk.” He made to grab the book but Solera held it out of his reach. “Using your height to your advantage. I’m shocked at you, my lady.”
“I’m not done with it.”
“You want to finish it?” Solera nodded. “But why? You saw it’s not my best work by far.”
“Cassandra enjoys it. I want to read it all the way through.” Varric’s eyes widened only slightly before he grinned knowingly. “Do not read into it Tethras.”
“Oh, I’m not, I’m not. Believe me, I wouldn’t want to risk your wrath Lady Adaar,” Varric said with a flourish of his hands. “Now do I hear my name being called? I believe I do.” Solera let him go with that flimsy excuse as she scowled at his retreating back. She wasn’t stupid, she’d seen the smile in his eyes. The cat that ate the canary smile, as her father would always say.
Solera put Varric Tethras from her mind as she turned towards the ambassador’s office. She knew Josephine would be calling for her soon, and she needed to change out of her shirt. Perhaps she could convince Josephine to let her pick her own clothes. To hell with what the Orlesians and Fereldens found fashionable, Solera wanted to be comfortable in her clothing. She wasn’t Orlesian or Ferelden or even a Free Marcher if someone wanted to get technical with the terms. She was a qunari and was proud of her heritage. Perhaps Josephine could be convinced to let her wear more traditional clothing… Or hell, anything that didn’t rip if she so much as sneezed. Solera could hope.