The title and the summary are excerpts from Kahlil Gibran's poem on progress, "Children of Gods, Scion of Apes." I will probably make a reference to it at some point later on. I would recommend reading it, personally, because I am his biggest fangirl.
Enough of the weighty snippets.
First and foremost, this is a fan fiction lesbian romance.
Leliana clutches the smooth aquamarine stone set into her necklace as she looks onto the vellum in her hand. The letter hadn't been hidden particularly well. She had found it folded and placed amongst memorabilia in an ordinary chest by the bed. The bedroom itself was desolate and impersonal. The large four poster bed, though lavish and inviting, was perfectly rigid and displayed no signs of use. Leliana had set a single candle – the sole source of light present in the room – atop one of the end tables, which were empty, save for a collection of moisture rings. Sloppy, Leliana had thought, most likely that damned pirate's influence. The fireplace was devoid of tinder or ashes, the marble clean of char and soot. Naught but formal attire freshly pressed and prim hung in the opulent armoire. Even the writing desk held scant little; mostly reminders of scheduled expeditions and research, notes on companion well-being, and an occasional immature doodle.
The only evidence of a woman who might have lived here was shut away in a small unassuming chest. Both items atop were wrapped delicately in royal sea silk; curiously fine material for such otherwise commonplace objects. The first, a ring carved from a dark wood. Leliana recognized the ring. It was worn by the warden the entirety she had known her. On closer inspection, the pattern of the ring appeared to slither about. Leliana couldn't be positive in the unreliable flicker of candlelight, but the movement in the fiber seemed to resemble...a bird? In an instant the wood shifted again and... now a wolf? Bizarre, indeed, and no doubt magical. She had decided to pocket the ring and have it further investigated later.
The second swaddled relic had been an old, desiccant rose. The stem brittle and the once velvet petals dried and shriveled, however, the deep red hue had not lost its beauty. Below the two small bundles sat a folded cobalt tunic faded and threadbare from considerable use. Leliana stroked the fabric fondly, her fingers reminiscing over the familiar wool. Placing the tunic gingerly aside, Leliana exposed a bountiful cache of small, rough blue stones and white petals. The aroma made its escape, tantalizing her nose, confirming for Leliana what she had already known to be Andraste's Grace. That was when the first sob threatened to take leave of her.
Fully hidden beneath it all lay the letter she now clung to. Leliana clasps her necklace, praying to the Maker for strength to read the words, to gaze upon the well-known calligraphy lost to her, without weeping bitterly. She moved closer to the light, watching the quivering lick of flame match the trembling of her hands.
"Oh..." The tears she knew she would not be capable of hindering began their slow descent.
Remember, Leliana...
She took a sharp inhale of breath attempting to stave off the muted racking of her body. Her life had become a game of espionage. She focused on her work, her reports; left severed from humanity in the shadows – distant and alone with her thoughts for company. It hurt to remember. Closing her eyes, she willed the tormenting cogitation to proceed.
Remember her scars - she had many, she treasured them all and could tell you where she got every single one. She was weird like that. I... I can't recall them all. I remember the striking ones. The puckered hole in her stomach from the arrow she took for Alistair at the Tower of Ishal. The savage slashes on her right side she came back with from her battle with Flemeth. The shallow puncture on her chest earned from a past lover. And the strange burn-looking divots around her eyes, easy to miss with her hair falling in face. Six, or was it seven now? Small blemishes starting at the outside tip of her right eye, evenly circling under, tracing her lower lashes. Every time I had asked about them she would give some dodgy answer. I thought I understood; I don't know that I ever will. Typical. With my work in the shadows, I have not received any new scars. She has seen every one of mine, kissed them all. She could tell you where I got each and every one in greater detail than I could myself, I bet. Like I said, she was weird like that...But I didn't mind. My body was irrevocably hers.
"I don't want to forget you."
Why did she have to make this so difficult? Remember, Leliana. In spite, remember.
She drew in an uneven breath attempting to calm her composure.
Brown, most of the time...black when it wasn't really her...They were brown. Golden when the sun could catch them. She often hid her eyes in shadows, fearing what one could glimpse in the light. The sun effortlessly intruding into the windows of the soul, betraying the truth, highlighting the insatiable black streaks only visible in contrast to beautiful aurelian. The darkness aching to escape from within, to take control. I have only witnessed the release, the submission to oblivion twice. Three times if you count the dream...It has something to do with those burns encompassing her eye, I just know it...
Leliana couldn't help but laugh. It had always been like a match of hide-and-seek with her. She had been so reluctant to let Leliana inside, to let her see her, to know her, to let her love her. She had told Leliana from day one that she had prior obligations, that she could never give herself wholly to her. She had told her this day would come. And here Leliana was, chasing after her.
What was she so blasted afraid of? The color of her eyes are brown.
"I will not allow you into oblivion. You won't get off that easy."
"I have found nothing." She inwardly cringed as the abrasive Nevarran accent encroached upon her vows. Leliana straightened and brushed away remnants of emotion from her now stony face before turning to face the woman. "I hope you have had better luck than I have," the intruder finishes.
"No, Cassandra," The woman – Cassandra, makes no attempt to conceal the annoyance visible in her bearing and tone. Cassandra Pentaghast, Nevarran royalty, seeker of truth, and Right Hand of the Divine. Leliana had grown accustomed to her brash directness and utter indifference to the Game. She had thought at first that Cassandra's blunt honesty and clear disgust in the face of others a grand ruse. However, after well-nigh six years in service to the Divine together, the seeker proved to be an unwavering ally of fierce piousness. The two worked well together, regardless of their differing approach to their duties. Cassandra preferred to be forthright and impulsive where Leliana was insidious and calculating - she couldn't afford to be idealistic. Leliana understood life did not care about values, about desires, about what she might have wanted. Life stood impervious, harvesting its toll and leaving behind abandoned, barren fields. "Nothing we do not already know." She decided Cassandra need not know about the letter. She worked well with Cassandra, yes, and she trusted the seeker; nonetheless, Leliana was still a collector of secrets. She knew the power something personal could hold over a person, she knew it to be a weakness. Besides, she hadn't lied; only heartache lay in the letter, and heartache was nothing new to Leliana.
"So," Cassandra began, "What shall we do, where do we find her? Where do we start?"
"At the beginning." Leliana knew it wouldn't be that simple. There had always been secrets; words withheld, questions unasked, answers made forfeit. How much had been the truth...It would be an impossible puzzle with pieces scattered around Thedas and segments no one had been witness to. It was a fool's errand. She herself knew little facts, if the Left Hand of the Divine was negligent, what hope would any have?
"To Highever then. To question the Teyrn," Cassandra says, drawing Leliana from her musing.
Nodding affirmation, Leliana agrees, "It's as good a starting place as any."
"Very well." With that Cassandra departs, leaving Leliana between the capricious dance of candlelight and obscurity. Venom festering in her heart, alone with the shadows and her thoughts, once again...
I promise this to you, my dear: you will not get away with this. You cannot go to oblivion as long as I have you imprisoned within my own heart. I will not absolve you. I will not let you slip from my memory.
The candle sputters, choking on blackness, and succumbs. Leliana draws her hood and allows her eyes to adjust, conceding to the darkness. She hears the clanking of Cassandra's armor receding into the distance. Withdrawing from the estate, Leliana moves with all the silence of the night through the shadows to rejoin her colleague.
"I am bound."