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“Your skills have improved greatly.” Kallia could feel her face warm at Leliana’s praise. There was little time to practice on the road. Often, it was while they were waiting for Morrigan to finish dinner. Kallia had been expressly forbidden from cooking regardless; her presence would be little missed.
“You’re being too nice,” she retorted. “My fingers keep slipping.”
The bard chuckled. she helped Kallia fix her hand placement along the strings, righted the mandolin until it was more upright. “You are still learning,” Leliana’s accent was thick, melodious in speaking and singing alike. Kallia had always admired that she could speak Fereldan so fluently. “It will come to you the more you practice, but you are a fast learner.”
Kallia allowed her breath to even out, shifted the instrument till it rested more comfortably in her grasp, and strummed the strings. Daggers and short swords had given her wicked callouses, but they were nothing like the way the strings rubbed the tips of her fingers raw. Still, she rehearsed the piece Leliana had given her. Singing the lyrics she’d been taught tonight.
“I feel sun
Through the ashes in the sky.
Where’s the one
Who will guide us into the night.
What’s begun
Is the war that will force this divide.
What’s to come
Is fire and the end of time.”
Her voice faded to a stop, echoing through the small clearing before fading into silence. Frustration pulled at her features. “Why did you stop?” Worry took over Leliana’s face as she sat down across from Kallia. “You were doing great!”
“I can’t do this.”
“What do you mean?”
Kallia set the mandolin aside, exceedingly gentle with the borrowed instrument. “You’re the bard, I don’t even have half the talent you do. Maker, you were trained in it.” She groaned and set her head in her hands. “I doubt this will impress Alistair.”
She heard a “tsk” from across the way and the snigger that followed. “My friend,” she glanced up to find a charming smile across Leliana’s face, “he loves you. Your smile merely makes his day; therefore, he will love it. Besides, if you’re learning this just for him you’re doing it for the wrong reason.”
Kallia was used to be scolded by her father, by Valendrian, Duncan, and Wynne on occasion. This was the first time Leliana had reprimanded her. A frown twisted her lips and she pulled her loose waves into the bun they were usually in. “I… do enjoy it,” she started. “My cousins and I would sing bawdy tavern songs, so I’ve sung in front of others. I’ve just never sung for Alistair and I want to make sure it sound flawless.”
Leliana’s features softened, crossing her legs gracefully. “You asked me to teach you dagger techniques months ago, remember? Rather than adopting my style, you assimilated it into your own. Made it unique. Do the same here. Don’t play like I do, play with your own flairs and embellishments.”
Hesitating, she picked up the mandolin again. Her fingers plucked the strings in a practiced fashion. It all sounded too rehearsed to her ears, so she tried to add a few notes. In the end, it sounded as though she hadn’t practiced at all and Kallia set the instrument aside with a huff. “It’s pointless. I’ve never sung for Alistair before, he won’t know what he’s missing.”
“Actually,” her green eyes darted to the spot over Leliana’s shoulder. “I would love to hear more of it.” Oh her face felt like it was on fire! How long had Alistair been there? With that smug grin on his face, she guessed he’d been present longer than she’d like.
“W-what?!”
He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly; she caught Leliana’s amused smirk out of the corner of her eyes. “I shouldn’t have eavesdropped, but I was beginning to wonder what you needed to be secretive about. Please don’t tell me you’re going to stop.”
Kallia shot an accusatory glare at the fellow redhead, the allegation on the tip of her tongue. “You dropped hints didn’t you?”
“I may have lingered a bit to make sure he was keeping up.” Leliana’s accent grew thicker in delight, her features the embodiment of innocence. It was no wonder her friend was able to charm so many. “Surely it was a good thing tonight. You would have given up.”
“I still may!” Andraste take her, she had wanted to wait for a reason.
Her lover had abandoned his armor at camp, the moonlight illuminated how his muscles strained the tunic he wore. Her face was suddenly hot for another reason. The warmth spreading to the tips of her ears. He sat himself behind her in the grass, hands trailing from her shoulders to her waist. “I would be honored, my lady, if you would sing for me.”
Kallia swallowed thickly at the feel of his breath on her neck. If he wasn’t careful, she would push him back and straddle him in front of Leliana. “You’d be hearing mediocrity at its finest.”
Alistair turned her face with a gentle touch, leaning forward so he could reach her lips. The kiss was infuriatingly chaste, but it sent anxious flutters through her chest. “To me, your voice is the loveliest sound I’ve ever heard.” Oh the spasms her heart went through at the words.
“Thank you, Alistair.” She giggled rather girlishly at Leliana’s nonplussed features, knowing she wasn’t truly upset. More likely, she’d end up writing a ballad about them later.
“I’m not sorry,” he defended. She could feel his self-satisfied smile against her cheek as he kissed it. “Now, love, will you play for me?”
Kallia chuckled and stole another quick kiss. “I suppose I’m sadistic enough to subject you to it. I’ll just have to make it up to you later.” Leliana let out a disgusted noise, but said no more as Kallia retrieved the mandolin. She started from the beginning, having a hard time ignoring Alistair as he pulled her hair down. His hands brushing her sides lightly. When she finally began to sing, she did not bother muting her soft soprano. There was no reason to hide it any longer.
“I am the one
Who can recount what we’ve lost.
I am the one
Who will live on.
I have run
Through the fields of pain and sighs.
I have fought
To see the other side.
I am the one
Who can recount what we’ve lost.
I am the one
Who will live on.”