Sweat dripped down Cassandra's back, soaking into the waistband of her trousers before it could travel lower, for which she was thankful. There were things more uncomfortable than sweat trickling down between the twin half-moons of one's arse, but still it was a unique discomfort that was rather distracting while sparring.

Taking a deep breath, Cassandra pushed forward again. Her sparring partner this morning was Krem, and the man was a much more difficult opponent than she had expected. Given that she had bested Bull a handful of times, she had not expected to have trouble with Krem. But what he lacked in Bull's strength, he more than made up for in speed. Without a shield to help, Cassandra was having a hard time keeping his blows from landing. She would have many welts the next morning. Zanneth would not be pleased.

This was part of the position of being a warrior, however. Cassandra's body was nicked with many small scars. Almost no piece of her skin was not marred by combat or age, or both. Zanneth celebrated all of it. The elf kept her distance from the scar associated with Galyan – neither of them wished to intrude upon those memories – but all others were fair game, and part of Cassandra. Just as much a part of her as her hands and feet. Zanneth had come to accept that. And Cassandra had come to accept that to love the Inquisitor was to forever and always worry for the woman's safety. Measures could be taken… but nothing was guaranteed.

Truly, they had both learned this lesson.

Krem came under Cassandra's attack with a less powerful but harder to block slash of his practice sword, and Cassandra earned another welt, this time along her ribs.

Different this time, however, was a small shriek at the sword's strike.

They both stopped, turning to see a small child outside the wooden limits of the sparring ring. He had close-cropped red hair, wore clothes that were clearly too big for him, and twin pointed ears jutted out from the side of his head. He clung for dear life to the wooden post next to him. If Cassandra had to guess, she'd say he came up to her hip.

Shaking her head, Cassandra looked back to Krem, only to see him grinning. "Looks like you have a fan!" he quipped. "One tiny little cheer section!"

"I don't see any for you," Cassandra snapped. "Now. Come."

Grinning, Krem proceeded to wallop her until she had trouble moving without soreness the next day, all the while being cheered by the little elven child on the sidelines.


The next day, Cassandra found out the child was actually a little girl.

She was peacefully reading in the garden, calmed by the gentle magic of Skyhold rather than untrusting of it. Perhaps she should have found the temperate weather unsettling, but it was different from the type of magics of which she was suspicious. It had been woven into the very foundation of this mountain, according to Solona – who, despite their grating relationship, Cassandra did trust on all subjects magical. It was not the product of a demon or blood magic. It had been put into place many, many years before Cassandra was every born. Before Andraste, before even the Blights. It was benign.

Or perhaps Cassandra had grown more tolerant of magic since knowing so many mages as personal friends (and thorns in her side, if one considered Solona).

In any event, she was sitting in her corner near the armory, a light cloak about her shoulders against the slight chill in the air. She was fully engrossed in her book, and had actually moved to the edge of the bench she was sitting upon in anticipation of the climax of the story, when a child's laugh caught her attention.

Cassandra furrowed her brow, miffed that something like that would pull her attention away from her book. Glancing up, she saw the small child from the day before. The child wielded a stick, and seemed to be fighting an imaginary fiend.

A smile pulling at her lips, Cassandra looked back down to her book. Before she could find the place she had left off, though, the child let out a shriek like the day before, and before she could help it, Cassandra was on her feet, a dagger drawn, looking for the danger.

The child was cowering along the stone wall of the ramparts, eyes on The Iron Bull as the big qunari walked by. He paused, turned to look down at the child for a moment, shook his head, and kept walking. He disappeared around the corner, heading into the tavern.

The child regained his feet. He was breathing hard, visibly shaken. When he picked his stick back up, he was trembling.

"You should not be afraid of The Iron Bull," Cassandra said, then berated herself for getting involved. What did she care of this small child?

"I… I… but the qunari is bad, ain't he?"

Cassandra pursed her lips. "Come here, child," she said. The child obeyed, coming close, his stick hanging limply at his side. "Why do you think the Inquisitor would accept Bull's help if he were an enemy of some kind?"

"Qunari burned Kirkwall to th' ground. Ma said so."

Cassandra's heartbeat quickened. "Your mother survived the qunari invasion of Kirkwall?"

The child nodded.

"What is your name, child?"

"Hannah."

"Hannah? You are a girl?"

Another nod.

Cassandra considered the girl for a moment. She was still wearing clothes too big for her, and her red hair was cropped unevenly – perhaps she had done it herself? She was very thin, and looking around, Cassandra could see no one about who might lay claim to this child.

"Hannah. Your mother. Is she here?"

"She… she died at Haven, Master Seeker."

Again, Cassandra's heart kicked in her chest. She could not be responsible for this child. But now… now she cared.

"I see. And you have been on your own since?"

"Aye. Flissa feeds me at th' tavern."

"And why are you not playing with the other children?" Cassandra knew there was no organized education for the children as of yet, but they had the run of Skyhold, playing many elaborate games and generally getting underfoot. Something would need to be done soon, or Skyhold would be overrun by the hellions.

"I… they won' let me." The girl fidgeted, looking at her feet.

"And why is that?"

"'Cuz I'm afraid. 'N cuz my sword skills is shite."

Cassandra almost laughed. Almost. But she managed to turn it into a scowl. "I see."

Looking up, Cassandra thought for a moment. "I can't help the other children accept you," she said. "Nor can I give you a family. But if you're willing… I can help you conquer your fear. And perhaps then the children will let you play."

"How?"

Cassandra smirked. "With the help of a friend."


"Horns up, pup!"

Cassandra watched from the sidelines as Hannah straightened.

"Sword up, too!"

The practice sword came up, as well, the point wavering, but pointing at Bull.

"Now. Charge him."

With a war cry that was just below piercing, Hannah ran forward, her sword wavering wildly as she ran down Krem. Krem easily jumped out of the way, laughing. Hannah made such a noise of frustration, turned, threw her sword aside, and tackled Krem. The man was taken by surprise, and fell backwards, the little girl climbing stop him in victory.

"I won!"

Bull's laugh boomed across the courtyard.

Bull had been helping Cassandra teach the little girl for several days now. It was exhausting. Where did children get all that energy? Cassandra was a fully trained warrior who could fight and walk all day if need-be, but teaching this child had her wishing for sleep by suppertime. Bull helped. Now, Krem did, too.

"You know. She might be better suited as a fencer." Cassandra turned to find Leliana had ventured from the rookery. Her cowl was up, but a smile pulled at her lips. "Give her a wooden rapier and see how she does."

"I cannot teach her fencing, but she does not seem to have the knack for this, either," Cassandra said, making sure her lips were visible to her deaf friend. "Have you found anything out about her family?"

"Yes. Her mother was an agent of mine. They were in Orlais before coming to Haven." Leliana paused, shook her head, and said, "So much death. And myself at the head of it."

"You did not kill her mother, Leliana."

"No, but I did not stop it." She shook her head again, looking defeated.

Placing her hand upon Leliana's shoulder to get her attention, Cassandra said, "Many died at Haven. They were not all your agents, and yet they died, as well. But I know I cannot make you stop feeling guilt." Considering the girl for a moment, she got an idea. "Why don't you teach her?"

"Me?"

Cassandra nodded. "Yes. You know how to fence, and you have experience teaching others." She smirked. "If Solona could learn swordplay from you, then anyone can."

"She is not as hard-headed as you say!" Leliana retorted, but a smile did pull at her lips once more. Her eyes drifted back to the little girl, who was in an all-out wrestling match with Krem. "She certainly has spirit."

Cassandra smiled. Leliana had not said the words, but the Seeker could tell that the spymaster would take the girl as her student. Leliana turned to go, but before she left, she said, "Have her come to the rookery tomorrow after she breaks her fast. I should have some time after reviewing my morning correspondence."


Cassandra hadn't seen Hannah for almost a week. She didn't think much of it, until the girl suddenly showed up again during Cassandra's morning sparring match, this time with Ser Cauthrien.

"You, uh, have an audience," the knight said, taking a break between attacking Cassandra with a heavy wooden facsimile of her massive sword.

Cassandra, leaning on her own weapons – two today – turned to see Hannah holding tight to the wooden post once more. The Seeker glanced up to the balcony of the rookery to see Leliana observing her from afar. With what looked to be a purposeful nod, Leliana turned and disappeared inside.

Sighing, Cassandra looked back to Cauthrien. "Shall we resume this evening?"

"All right." Cauthrien smirked, gesturing behind Cassandra. "It looks like she isn't waiting until you're done."

Cassandra turned to find the girl had run up behind her. She held her wooden rapier up in her hands. "Spymaster says I ain't got th' aptitude," Hannah said, gesturing for Cassandra to take her weapon.

"Did she now?" Cassandra pursed her lips, taking in the small girl. Finally, she claimed the girl's sword. "Well, then we will just have to find some other way to make you not afraid anymore. That is what you want, isn't it?"

"Yes! Very much!"

Nodding, Cassandra took all three practice swords and deposited them with the rest. She then stalked out of the drill yard, Hannah running along behind her.

Cassandra was at her wit's end. The child was talentless! Flissa had kicked her out of the kitchens after she spoiled a precious pot of honey that had survived the trip from Haven. Solona had regretfully sent her away, claiming she might get sick from the feverish patients, though privately claiming her nervous energy set an air of unease amongst the sick. She spilled a well of Josephine's ink on an important missive while learning to write. And she still could not do anything more than tackle Krem with curses and her tiny fists.

Hannah at least seemed to no longer be afraid of The Iron Bull. In fact, she seemed to be his constant companion, perched next to him outside the drill yard as he coached his men in helping to train Inquisition recruits. But still she was hesitant to join the other children. She had no skill to bring to the table, as it were.

The politics of children would never make sense to Cassandra Pentaghast, seventy-eighth in line for the Nevarran throne.

So she finally turned to the one person who was gone during the day and had not had the chance to see the girl.

"So, you have a shadow," Zanneth said, after Cassandra had explained her conundrum.

"I suppose you could say that, yes," the Seeker said, pulling the naked woman closer under the woolen blankets of their bed. It might be more temperate in Skyhold than the rest of the Frostbacks in the dead of winter, but the temperature still dropped low enough to freeze the dew each morning, and the heat of the forge died by the morning's light.

"You seem to really be concerned with this girl's problem," Zanneth mused, pushing away so she could smirk up at Cassandra. "Cassandra Pentaghast. You are the softest-hearted warrior there ever was!"

Cassandra let out a small chuckle. "You should see her with Bull. He dotes on her how he might his own child. Or perhaps how he would if a child joined the Chargers. Which she might just do any day now, the other children be damned."

Zanneth surprised her by laying a gentle hand upon her cheek. "Ma vhenan, why is this so important to you?"

Cassandra sighed, lying back, letting Zanneth lie on her side next to her. "I was orphaned young. I had Antony, but… nobody else. We were royalty, and we lived with a death mage. The only other children around were the children of servants, but…"

"What?"

Cassandra felt her cheeks heat. It was ridiculous that this would still haunt her so, thirty-five years after the fact. "They would not play with us. With me. For like this little girl, I had no skill to bring to their play. Antony was a famed dragon hunter and could wield many weapons. He did not play – he trained. But I was too young for such things, and my uncle thought young princesses had no place learning the skill of the blade. The hours I spent without my brother, I was alone, for the children would not even acknowledge my presence."

"You poor, wonderful thing," Zanneth breathed, and then Cassandra's lips were covered in a kiss. As she pulled back, a look came over her that communicated she had an idea. "Perhaps…"

"What?"

"Well, I was given my first bow when I was just five summers. I went on my first hunt when I was this girl's age, though my job was to listen and wait with the hunters, not to fire my weapon. Perhaps this girl just needs to be given a bow?"

"But… she is clumsy," Cassandra argued. Though, truth be told, she did not know why. It was the one thing she had not yet tried.

Zanneth fixed her with a sardonic look. "Cassandra, all children are clumsy at seven. You say she has the patience to sit with Bull and watch hours upon hours of drill instruction. She managed an entire week with Leliana, and our spymaster did not lose her own patience once. She merely said that this girl did not have the aptitude. Perhaps she has the aptitude for hunting? The true skill is the patience. A child who can be patient without being taught? That puts her miles ahead of the other children."

"How would this allow her to play with the other children?"

Zanneth grinned, causing Cassandra's heart to soar. As they settled in to some semblance of stability this winter, Cassandra was learning that, while Zanneth was indeed somber and introspective, she also liked to tease and bestow her smile upon those close to her.

"That, emma lath, is where Sera comes in."


Cassandra watched from a distance as Sera and Hannah crouched behind some bushes. In the courtyard, a group of perhaps ten children – elven and human alike – ran about, playing the wargames children play. Which, it became clear as Cassandra watched, mostly involved walloping each other with sticks.

I can't say it's terribly different from a sparring session, Cassandra thought, a small smile on her lips. She still remembering the walloping Krem had delivered all those weeks ago.

As she watched, Sera prodded Hannah, and the girl stood, took aim with her tiny bow, and got a little boy square in the rump. The boy shrieked, Hannah dropped back out of sight, and the rest of the children all looked around for the source of the lone little blunt arrow.

A flash of blonde and red hair caught Cassandra's eye, and she looked to see Sera and Hannah had relocated. They waited until the sounds of the children's play grew loud once more, and then, once again, Hannah took aim. She got another child – she had good aim – and then once more dropped out of sight.

The children were miffed now. Some went to check the bushes, but Sera and Hannah had melted into the ether. Apparently, Hannah had the aptitude for Sera's particular brand of mischief.

Nothing will ever be safe. Not with two of them.

It was ten minutes of play before Sera and Hannah appeared up on the ramparts.

"Oy!" Sera yelled. A few of the children stopped, looking up at Sera's call.

Hannah then stood up and lobbed… something. It sailed through the air and crashed in the middle of the playing children. At first, it seemed nothing would happen, but then the children closest yelled in confusion and ran. They were trailing… something. White and fluffy, it looked almost like the stuffing of a feather mattress.

In the mean time, two more small projectiles had been launched into the air. They sailed and landed, and then those children, too, went running. The shrieks of terror abated quickly, however, turning quickly into squeals of laughter.

Cassandra squinted, trying to see what it was Sera and Hannah were throwing. "What in the…"

Hannah was laughing now. As Cassandra watched, she rushed down the stairs, lobbing another flask as she went. The children now rejoiced, picking up the white, fluffy substance that was growing in volumes as flasks were thrown into it.

"I knew she'd have an aptitude for something."

Cassandra turned around to see that Zanneth had snuck up behind her without making a sound.

"I take it you took her out with you into the woods and taught her how to move so soundlessly?"

Zanneth nodded, grinning. "She'll be able to go on a true hunting trip soon. She really does have a knack for the bow. And, as you can see, for pranks."

"So Sera taught her that part, then?"

Zanneth's grin turned to a smirk. "I have performed my share of tricks, Cassandra. I had to, if I was to survive having a little brother."

Cassandra chuckled. Turning back to the children, she said, "I once put ink in Antony's tea."

"You did?"

"Yes," she said, nodding. "His teeth were black for a week."

"Cassandra Pentaghast."

"What?"

"You do have a mischievous side!"

Cassandra harrumphed. "Just… don't tell Solona."

Laughing, Zanneth took her hand, nuzzling into Cassandra's side. "I won't, emma lath. It will remain between you and I."


A/N: I don't even remember why, but I got this idea the other day - what might happen if some child took a liking to Cassandra? What might that look like? I imagined her treating the child like a small adult, while understanding that children do not actually respond like adults.

Then it turned into her seeking help everywhere, because while Hannah has no aptitude for anything, Cass has no aptitude for children.

Enjoy!