Work Text:
Cassandra’s hands are unsure yet strong the first time they touch. The Seeker keeps seeking out her eyes, watching and waiting for her to say stop, cautious when in all other things she is a force that stops for nothing and no one. Now the armor is gone, each piece pulling away to reveal something gentle and giving, and Leliana is not surprised.
She’s caught her admiring glistening jewelry and expensive silks, between the pages of a romance novel, watched the way her lips turn when they’ve passed lovers and lovingly made art. There is softness to be found beneath the hard plating. Leliana whispers poetry against her skin and watches it flush with pleasure and when Cassandra comes it’s with a pretty sigh that makes her want to write sonnets to forever remember it.
Then her world is destroyed in a flash of green and the songs dry up in her throat. She is a hand severed, purpose lost and aching to be made whole again. For a time comfort is found in the shadows, in the dark places where the light can no longer hurt her eyes. She makes armor out of raven’s wings and sharp words, carves metal into her skin forged from blood and secrets. Hardened hearts do not fear fraying like the strings of her lyre.
It is in her bleakest moment that Cassandra’s softness finally surprises her. It is her strength- not the shield she bears nor the sinew of her muscles, but the conviction of a romantic heart that fights with every beat, with every breath that’s not snatched away. She reaches with steady hands now, plucks away the barbed feathers and peels back the darkness with blunt words, beautiful and blinding in their sincerity. Each kiss is a note doting a page, every touch a stroke across dust covered keys, every whisper a forgotten melody.
When there is no other voice to guide her, Cassandra makes her sing again.