Title: Roses are red, violets are blue
Fandom: Dragon Age
Characters/Pairings: Cassandra Pentaghast, Josephine Montilyet; Cass x Josie
Rating: M
Warnings: femslash, established relationship
Summary: She doesn't want to laugh at Cassandra, but there's something incredibly amusing in knowing the Seeker wrote her a love poem.
A love poem that is, in fact, terrible. It's just so adorably cute Josephine wants it framed.
Disclaimer: Dragon Age is not mine.
A/N: based on a prompt from Dragon Age Kink Meme: Cassandra writes a love letter/poem for Josie. It's terrible but Josephine loves it.
Written for Femslash February 2016.
"You wanted to see me."
Cassandra's voice is tense, and when Josephine twirls around to face her she can notice the Seeker looks like she's expecting punishment. Or perhaps she's just so embarrassed she'd rather let the Bull hit her in the head so she wouldn't have to get up for the next few days.
"I see you've got my..." she gestures vaguely. She shoots an anxious glance at the piece of paper laying so innocently on Josephine's desk.
Josie has to bit her lip to resist the urge to laugh. She doesn't want to laugh at Cassandra, but there's something incredibly amusing in knowing the Seeker wrote her a love poem.
A love poem that is, in fact, terrible. It's just so adorably cute Josephine wants it framed.
She has to be smart about it or else Cassandra will never speak of it again and live in shame for the rest of her life. Luckily, Josephine Montilyet is a diplomat. She knows exactly what she should say. The problem is that it won't be easy to convince her lover the poem she wrote isn't so bad.
It's incredible that Cassandra gathered enough courage to actually write something. She mentioned it once or twice but Josephine never asked or pressed. After all, Cassandra is a warrior, not a writer. Her little obsession with terribly sappy novels is something Josephine finds incredibly cute about her. Cassandra can cut off a man's head with one swing of her sword. She's not exactly seen as cute by many. But for Josephine… It's sufficient to say that the diplomat was delighted to discover that Cassandra is someone she always wanted to find – her perfect romantic knight.
With a little smile on her lips Josephine takes a step closer. It's convenient that they are in her personal quarters. The room was in a terrible shape but Josephine got everything repaired in no time. Unlike Cullen who still sleeps in a room with a hole in the wall. Even though she is a diplomat, at times Josephine finds it hard to understand certain people.
She has a room full of books and documents, everything perfectly organised. She usually works elsewhere but this place is better if she needs to work in peace behind closed doors. By the window there's a bed covered with furs and pillows. Josephine doesn't need luxury, what she has is enough.
She really wants to reward Cassandra, and she certainly couldn't do what she has in mind if they were by her desk near the war room. No matter how tempting it seems, the idea of someone walking in on them, she has to think about Cassandra's reputation.
It's enough that they have to deal with Sera's comments. Josephine doesn't really mind, they are crude but harmless, but Cassandra gets so embarrassed every time Sera mentions their relationship. It's a great source of amusement for Sera, embarrassing the great Cassandra Pentaghast. Josie can only hope one day the Seeker will stop blushing so much.
"I did get your note," Josephine says, her voice soft.
"It's awful, I know. I should never – " she lets out a sigh. "I'm not a poet."
"It doesn't matter." Josie takes another step closer. "It's very, uh, creative."
"Creative?" Cassandra frowns. "I think the word you're looking for is horrible."
"Don't be so hard on yourself. I never got a love poem written for me. I'll treasure it forever."
Josephine's voice is honest, and Cassandra mumbles something in embarrassment. Before she can turn around and flee, Josephine gently takes her hand and leans in. Cassandra doesn't protest, easily melting into Josephine's soft kiss.
"The Inquisitor wants to see me…" Cassandra protests but Josephine puts a finger on her lips.
"The Inquisitor can wait."
She leads Cassandra to her bed, pushing her gently so the Seeker lays down on her back.
"I heard Varric gave you the next chapter of his book," Josephine swiftly changes the topic.
She traces the scar on Cassandra's face with her index finger. She memorised every scar and mark on the Seeker's body. She also keeps a salve in her room in case Cassandra comes back from a mission with new bruises. "Did you read it?"
"It's not bad," Cassandra says weakly, her face red.
No matter how hard she tries to keep it a secret, everyone knows the Seeker enjoys reading Varric's smutty novels. Leliana knows, of course, Leliana knows all secrets. The Inquisitor discovered it by accident. And one night, when they were sitting by the fireplace, wrapped in furs and drinking wine, Cassandra told Josephine. She blushed like a Chantry sister, and Josephine couldn't help but smile.
It's cute, Josie thinks every time Cassandra denies just how much she likes Varric's books. Cassandra is tough and brave, a true knight. And yet there's something soft about her when she talks about her favourite stories. She describes them as truly romantic, while everyone else calls them awfully sappy.
"You look lovely," Josephine whispers, smiling as she hears the woman breathe in sharply. Responding to compliments is something Cassandra still has to learn.
Noticing the look on her lover's face, the Seeker tries to get up.
"The Inquisitor is waiting for me," she reminds, though her resolve weakens with every passing second. "We shouldn't –"
"The Inquisitor can wait." Josie says again before she pushes her back and yanks Cassandra's pants and underwear out of her way. They don't have much time, but it'll be enough for this.
Her fingers are used to dresses and skirts; it was quite a challenge at first, getting the Seeker out of her clothes. But Josephine has always been very determined. Now she's an expert at undressing Cassandra Pentaghast. It's not a skill she can brag about during diplomatic meetings, obviously, but it makes her live oh so much easier.
She briefly glances at the small pile of clothes on the floor. Cassandra deserves to wear something better. She makes a mental note to herself to contact her friends in Antiva.
Black lace, she decides, and her heart flutters when she imagines just how beautiful the Seeker's strong body will look in lingerie.
Cassandra sucks in a breath as Josephine's lips skim her skin. She has a new bruise on her hip, they'll have to take care of it later. Now, however, Josephine wants to focus on something else entirely.
"Maker, please," Cassandra whispers, her voice incredibly different than her usual commanding tone. She reaches down, threading her fingers through Josephine's hair, the other hand gripping the bedsheet. She repeats her lover's name again and again between gasps.
Josephine feels quite proud; she's the one who knows where to touch to make Cassandra's back arch.
People consider her a sweet, innocent girl. Leliana thinks she must protect her. Josephine doesn't mind, and it helps at times when people view her as harmless.
But what Leliana doesn't know is that Josephine likes to be wicked sometimes. Power is knowledge, and there's something so immeasurably powerful in knowing she can make the great Seeker Penaghast gasp for air and moan.
So her fingers tease, and tease, and tease, her touch firm but gentle, until Cassandra is shaking, whispering her name like a prayer. The noises she makes are more beautiful than poetry.
Cassandra opens the door to the war room, hoping that she looks presentable enough so the blush on her face won't betray her
"I'm glad you decided to join us after all" the Inquisitor says.
"I'm sorry, I had... important matters to attend to."
"Right," the Inquisitor winks at her. "Now that we're all finally here, let's continue."
Leliana has this all–knowing grin on her face, Cullen tries very hard to avoid her eyes and stare at his feet, and Cassandra wishes the Breach would open right above her.