She'd warned him. Repeatedly.
"I'm not the best person to teach you to read," she had said. "I'm terrible at reading."
"I always fall asleep. It's not just Anders' manifesto."
"I never read what Father told me to, so I just listened to Carver and Bethany talk about it until I figured out the important parts."
"I'm so easily distracted."
But he just shook his head and pulled her down beside him on the window seat. It had become something of a ritual. At first, they sat and sounded words out until he could recognize the letters. Then he had begun reading to her. Simple things. Books parents read to children for bed. She always fell asleep, one foot off the seat, and the other curled under, like when Mother read to them.
Then they began getting to the more difficult books. They were on history and religion and she had to help him with these ridiculous philosophical terms. Really, who cared what Brother Genitivi thought about a bunch of ashes?
She really did try, though. At first. But it was just so boring.
Her fingers would idly tug on an ear or his hair. Then she'd pause to tell him how proud she was, complete with a kiss. It wouldn't take long for her to find the buttons of his clothes infinitely more interesting than the book. And of course, if one student couldn't stay focused, soon the whole class would follow. The book inevitably wound up on the floor under their clothes. And Varric knew when they returned his books unread.