By the time he returned to the Hanged Man, Varric had more or less walked himself into a resolution.
There wasn't a whole lot to be done. After the wedding, the newlyweds plus one would be heading to Starkhaven. He knew better than to think he'd get Hawke to return to Kirkwall with ease - oh, she'd definitely visit, he knew her too well to think otherwise, but it wasn't like they'd have regular card games anymore. But she loved Choirboy (for some reason), and she was happy, and that was all Varric could want for her.
The plus one... well, now that he had finally figured out what that plus one meant to him, he had to believe there was a chance she might come back. He was looking at a pretty bleak picture if she didn't.
He knew his Sunshine well enough to know that she would at least give him the courtesy of an answer, and that she'd write to him from Starkhaven no matter what she decided. But he wasn't going to let her go without at least pleading his case, in what he could only hope was a not too awkward manner.
The party was dying down, and he was able to slip through the taproom without attracting much notice. He reached his rooms at the top of the stairs and bolted the door, then retrieved some fresh paper from his supply and took a seat at the long table. Using a knife to sharpen his newest quill, he stared at the parchment in thought. How exactly would he say this? There was bound to be at least an hour of false starts and crossed out mistakes.
But he thought of those eyes, glinting like jewels in the low light of the tavern, and he knew it was worth the effort.
I've been thinking about what I said to you tonight. All of it.
I've also been thinking about what you said to me, and by the time I got back to my room at the Hanged Man I had talked myself into writing this letter because there's something you need to know.
You told me that no one has ever "felt that way" about you. This isn't true; it's just taken me a ridiculously long time to realize it.
I'm nothing like the prince. I'm not young, I'm not handsome (by human standards, at least), and I don't have a crown to offer. But I'm somebody who would, if given half the chance, offer you everything I've got and will ever have.
This is piss-poor timing for a love letter, since the wedding is imminent and you're about to head off to Starkhaven. I understand. I want you to enjoy yourself. But I couldn't let you leave without telling you all of this - without telling you that you're the one truly bright thing in my entire life, the one person who makes me feel young again. Beauty and grace personified. My Sunshine.
You're going to Starkhaven, there's nothing else for it. But if you ever want to come back to Kirkwall, if you ever want to come home, I'll be waiting here with open arms.