Work Text:
Some opportunities were just too good to waste.
Now that his life had spilled out so far beyond the Ostwick chantry, Wil wasn’t going to let a chance like this pass him by.
In the grass by Cassandra’s training dummies sat a chapter of Swords and Shields, but Cassandra was nowhere to be found. Even though her secret was out, it wasn’t like her to leave something so personal out in the open.
With a casual glance left and right, Wil stepped into the shadows and cloaked himself. Cassandra didn’t want him to read it, but curiosity had been eating at him since he convinced Varric to write another chapter for her. Guilty conscience aside, taking Cassandra’s things was a risky venture. But this is academic, he told himself.
It only took a few stealthy steps and the book was in his hands. Volume One. He hadn’t been able to get a good look at it before. The redhead on the cover brandished both the titular sword and shield, looking every inch a powerful warrior. Wil smiled.
“They’re going to destroy the Undercroft.” He froze at Cassandra’s voice, eyes darting up to see her approaching with Josephine. “We’re lucky this was just a small explosion.”
“Dagna knows what she’s doing. And wouldn’t you rather Sera had more...experienced guidance when crafting her grenades?”
“Experienced guidance? Dagna is a fine Arcanist, but throwing substances into a vial at random just to see what happens does not sound like experienced guidance to me.”
Wil stole back into the shadows, book tucked into his coat. Cassandra was in no mood for jokes, and he didn’t want to be around when she discovered her book missing. He darted around the corner, hoping she was distracted enough to forget that she had left it behind.
When he was safely in his quarters, adrenaline still pumping, he placed the book on his sofa. He was a fast reader, but he’d need luck to finish it before Cassandra caught him. Wil changed out of his armor as quickly as he could and sat down to read.
The book began innocently enough. A razor-sharp knight-lieutenant who focused on the tasks in front of her found herself falling for one of her templars. Varric garnished his usually clean prose with a few frills, but it fit.
Then, he hit the first fantasy scene. If this was his worst serial, Varric was good. Dorian may have been a genius, but he was wrong about this.
A sparring match turned carnal, with skin on skin, hands everywhere, rough and urgent but not without tenderness, and right there in the barracks. He wondered if Cassandra’s thoughts ever turned that way, when they were trading practice blows, or when she was reading this book, in her room, wearing nothing but...
Unlikely. Wil set the book down and tried to calm himself. Cassandra liked the fantasy of the story and the escape it provided. Her enjoyment had nothing to do with him.
And he couldn’t blame her. He was itching to reopen the book and see if that fantasy became reality. His daily rounds could wait a little longer.
Just as the newly-promoted Knight-Captain Valomes and Knight-Corporal Hendry were about to profess their feelings for each other, one of the guardsmen burst in to announce that the captain of the guard had been found dead. Wil glowered at the last page, as if more words would magically appear.
Varric, you cruel, cruel man.
Closing the book, he stood and rolled his stiff neck. Was the sun starting to set already? The rounds were a lost cause--he had missed dinner! His stomach growled at the realization.
Getting lost in a book was like whiling away the hours with an old friend. It hadn’t happened since he joined the Inquisition, but he had responsibilities now. What if Sera was being difficult about the grenades? He had no doubt Cassandra and Josephine could handle it, but they had plenty to do already.
And he had to give Cassandra her book back. Guilt gnawed at his stomach at the idea of slipping it back where he found it. No, he had to confess to his crime. Perhaps if she knew he enjoyed the book, she’d go easy on him.
Plus, it was the only way he was going to get the next volume from her.
With a sigh, he headed for the door, ignoring his stomach’s protests. But when he reached for the knob, he heard movement outside. He tensed on instinct until he heard a soft knock.
“Inquisitor?”
It was Cassandra. Had she already found him out? Wil’s stomach fell, hunger forgotten, and he opened the door with a sheepish smile on his face. It probably wasn't a good time to remind her that he had a name.
Cassandra jumped a little, perhaps surprised by his speed. “Ah, there you are,” she said, recovering quickly.
“I can explain,” he began, showing her the book.
Cassandra looked confused. “Explain?” Her eyes widened again when she saw what he was holding. “M-my book! I thought that Cole might have…”
Wil furrowed his brow as she trailed off. “Wait, you aren’t here to get your book?”
“No, I just...we did not see you at dinner. Josephine and Leliana were concerned.” But she didn’t meet his eyes when she said it.
“Sorry, I couldn’t put it down,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. He handed the book to Cassandra and she stared at it, then up at him.
“You’re teasing me, aren’t you?” Most of the fluster was gone, replaced by mild annoyance.
“Not at all, Cassandra. The balcony scene took my breath away. I can’t believe Varric cut it off like he did. And by cut it off, I mean the guard-captain’s head.”
Cassandra let out a grunt. “I couldn’t believe it either, and I had to wait months to find out what happened next!” Realizing her outburst, she cleared her throat. They were both still holding the book, and standing quite close. Wil smiled at her, but she couldn’t return it. He released her novel and she brought it to her chest, taking a step back. “I will bring you the next chapter,” she said.
“I can’t wait.”
The smile she sent him hit him even harder than Varric’s lovely words. Then, his stomach growled loud enough for both of them to hear. Wil chuckled as Cassandra pretended not to notice.
"Iron Bull and his Chargers just returned. Perhaps they could be persuaded to make room for their Inquisitor at the tavern.”
“An excellent suggestion,” Wil said with a wink. Cassandra huffed, but as she turned away, he caught a flash of that smile. He gave her a head start (trying his best to watch like a gentleman as she walked away) before leaving for his late dinner.
On his way down, he realized that she hadn’t seemed concerned about how he got the book.
When he returned to his quarters, full of stew, stories, and a bit too much ale, the next chapter of Swords and Shields sat atop his pillow in the bed. Wil smirked. It was only fitting that Cassandra break into his room after he stole from her.
But twists in the once pristine blankets caught his eye, as if she had climbed on the bed to put the book there. Like a teenager with a crush, he closed his eyes and let out a shuddering breath.
Once he collected himself, he noted a scrap of parchment wedged in the center of the novel. My favorite part, it read, in Cassandra's hurried writing. Wil peeked at the passage, eyes going wide at the lurid words on the page.
Perhaps she was simply sharing a guilty pleasure with a like-minded friend. That was more than enough for Wil. But those knee prints on the bed did make him wonder.