Nothing To Hide
I want love to be simple. I want to trust without thinking. I want to be generous with my affection and patience and love unconditionally. It is easier to love a person with their flaws than to weed through them. I want to love the whole person, not parts; and this is how I want to be loved.
— Jewel Kilcher, Chasing Down the Dawn.
So, late as always, here is my Valentines Day gift to @thefluffynug, featuring the Sethlen pairing (Sethras Adaar x Varlen Lavellan)! This is a sequel to the wonderful fic written by Fluffy HERE!
Also, mentions of @chaitea09‘s lovely OC Riven Lavellan, who is Varlen’s canon twin sister, and the Inquisitor!
Let the fluff begin! (~4300 words, because I got carried away and it’s two days late >.>’)
Varlen groaned gently, reaching his arms up towards the sky, hands flexing as he rolled his wrists at the precipice of the stretch. They’d been on the march for a few days now, heading towards the main river, hopefully free of rebels. Or, so they all assumed. That was the real reason they were on patrol in that direction – they had received orders from Cullen to ensure that there were no stragglers.
“Not used to actual work yet, elf?” a sharp smack on the back sent Varlen stumbling forward a couple of steps, but rather than retaliate in anger, he just huffed, lowering his arms back to his side.
“Unlike you, I don’t consider walking actual work.” Varlen’s reply was met with a bark of laughter and a smirk from the soldier who had moved up beside him.
“Oh, I don’t – lighten up, will ya? Just figured that for someone like you it’d be a struggle. What, with being used to the pampered life and all.” After Varlen received another light punch to the shoulder, the soldier moved on ahead, joining the group of men who were leading the march. Varlen didn’t bother to correct him about his pampered life. What good would it do? It’s like they all believed he had always been the ‘Inquisitor’s brother’. Like it wasn’t a recent development that surprised him and Riven as much as everyone else. That he hadn’t spent most of his life trying to avoid death or injury at the hands of strangers. That he hadn’t trained until his hands bled because he thought it would make him worth something, and that he had been wrong. The thing that suddenly made him worth something had been nothing short of random chance.
Shaking his head, Varlen glanced around, taking a little moment to admire the trees that had defied all odds to stand tall, their branches spread wide to embrace the sunlight. It was nice to be surrounded by natural shades of green again; the kind born from leaves and grass. Unlike the hue cast by the rifts, that always seemed to churn up an uneasy nausea in Varlen’s stomach. It was unnatural. Sickly. But it didn’t matter – he would run at them regardless, blades flashing and biting into anything that stood in his path. He would hold on for that moment when Riven sealed it with the mark, and relish the feeling of lightness that followed. Because for a moment, it was enough to know Thedas was a little bit safer.
Just a little.
“... Want lift?”