They complimented each other.
The Seeker could be heard well before she entered any room, her boots, heavy armor, and tendency to stomp always giving away her location. On the other hand, if you heard the spymaster coming is was only because she wanted you to, her soft boots and light mail made her seem like a wisp of smoke floating from shadow to shadow as she moved.
Where Cassandra was all brute strength and honesty, Leliana was fluid dexterity and secrets.
The warrior often let her emotions spur her to action without thinking, which made sense once her love of (horrible) romance novels and naïve views of courtship were made know and the bard, conversely, was always thinking three (or more) steps ahead, and had learned the hard way there were no happy endings.
Opposites, even in title, who (frequently) clashed both verbally and physically.
And yet, they complimented each other.
Leliana helped the right hand see the big picture, to see the effects of her actions long before she even knew she was contemplating them. Cassandra ensured the left hand occasionally stepped from the shadows and warmed her face to the sun, keeping the small bit of compassion lit in her abused and neglected heart.
In the years since taking up their roles at the Divine's side they had gone from mistrusting coworkers to loyal friends. They had fought back-to-back against overwhelming odds. They had shed blood with, and for each other. They tended to each other's wounds, and had sat vigil next to their feverish, weakened, or otherwise bedridden counterpart more times than either of them liked to remember.
But they had also shared small bits of joy over these same years, even if it was easily over looked by outsiders.
A small plate of sweets brought to the Nightingale's desk when she worked late into the night. A new book hidden in the Seekers saddle bag as she left for some far off mission. Even just sitting on the same log round a campfire during the precious few times they were dispatched together, pressed knee to knee, shoulder to shoulder, as if to acknowledge their mutually shared burden.
They had knelt in prayer, side by side, everywhere from the Grand Cathedral, to make shift shrines set a few paces from a campsite. They were joined by their sworn duty to their faith, but it was their faith in each other that held them together when all hope seemed to be lost.
But could that faith be enough for this?
AN:
Just a quick intro, think of it as the back of a book cover. I've never written this pair, or DA, before. My fics have been limited to Mass Effect until now, and my last one was abandoned years ago for personal reasons. I've actually got a plan where I want this to go, but I figured I'd give you this and the first chapter and see if anyone was interested. I love these two, so much! This will take place during Inquisition but have flash backs through the other games and between.
Quick Head Canon: Cassandra is 38 in my head at the start of DA:I (19 when she became the right hand in 9:22 dragon.) Leliana is 34, which is a year younger than the math, but it works for my story. They would have first met 7 years before DA:I. Just go with it.
Okay, Promise no more long notes!