A/N This is my first fanfic...yes, yes..a virgin in the arena. This takes place prior to Ostagar and I'm also working on a sequel that takes place during Awakening and after.

**There are spoilers here for The Calling and Origins. Reviews and helpful commentary are most welcome. **

Snippets

Leonie, age 9, Jader Grey Warden Compound

As he walked into the Jader compound, he heard a squeal from the large oak tree in the courtyard and watched with amusement as a young girl jumped down off her perch and came running towards him. He stopped to hand his reins over to the waiting stable boy's outstretched hand and held his arms open. She launched herself into his arms and he swung her high in the air. Her joyous laughter echoed off the buildings and he could not help but smile at her delight.

"I would ask if you were behaving, young lady, but I see by your black eye that you have been fighting again," Duncan said with an indulgent smile.

The young girl's blue eyes narrowed as she settled back onto the ground. "It isn't my fault that Perot was itching to fight," she said with as much dignity as a nine year old could muster. She slipped her hand into his and he squeezed it.

"Itching was he? And just how did you determine that?" Duncan asked, hiding a twitch of a smile.

"He said that I couldn't be a Grey Warden because I'm a girl and girls can't fight. Well, I had to show him that girls can fight. So I punched him, just like you showed me," she gloated and he hid another smile.

"But you forgot the most important lesson, Lion," he said and tried to sound scolding but she was skipping beside him and laughing.

"I know. I forgot to duck," she responded and this time he did smile.

"Well, that's always a wise course of action, of course. But I was referring to the lesson about learning to walk away from a fight."

He glanced down at her and saw that her smile was now a fierce frown. "I do walk away, honestly. But some things can't go unnoticed. I can and will join the Grey Wardens."

He squeezed her hand lightly, never doubting for a moment that Leonie Caron would do whatever she wanted in life because she had the fiercest heart of anyone he had ever known.

"Riordan got here this morning. He says if you get any slower, you'll move backwards. And Papa got home yesterday. He says that we'll have four new wardens by the end of the week. I hope they all make it," she added in a hushed voice.

"Don't worry, Lion, they will if it is the Maker's will."

"Mama cries when they don't. I've seen her. But I'm not supposed to tell Papa."

Balfour Caron, Sub Commander of Jader, was a tall, imposing man with a shock of red hair and a temper to match but he was fair and even handed unless provoked and Duncan had learned a great deal about honor and duty from him. His wife, Nila, was as short as Balfour was large, and she was beautiful. It was from her that Leonie got her thick dark hair and blue eyes. But Leonie's disposition was all her own.

"Oh Duncan, you have a new earring! May I see it?" Leonie asked and he obligingly bent down so she could examine the silverite hoop.

"Where did you get it? There are little shapes engraved on it. What are the shapes?"

Duncan tweaked her nose and stood back up. "A merchant in Orzammar. Those are Dwarven runes."

"Orzammar? Really? Oh, I wish I could go there again! Did you go in the Deep Roads? Did you go to a Proving? What is the king like?"

Duncan chuckled. "I'm only here for two days, child, I can't possibly answer all your questions in that time."

Leonie glanced up at him through a fringe of dark lashes to see if he was impatient with her but he was still smiling and she slipped her hand in his once again as they entered the main hall where they were met by Riordan, Balfour and Nila, as well as several new wardens.

"Ho, Duncan! How goes the recruitment in Ferelden?"

Duncan grimaced as he greeted his friends. "It would be better if King Maric would allow more than thirty of us in the country. But he claims that Teryn Loghain will not allow more and no matter how much the king argues with the Landsmeet, thirty is all we are going to get."

"Has he at least allowed for more than just the Denerim compound?"

Duncan shook his head and his grimace turned into a frown. "Loghain's hatred of Orlais and all things Orlesian makes it difficult for any real progress. All we can do is hope that no Blight starts as long as Loghain has the king's ear," he said grimly.

"A Blight?" Leonie asked, her eyes wide. "Is there a Blight coming?"

"Of course not, dear. Now go wash up while I scold Duncan for being late," Nila broke in, giving her daughter a pat on the head and shooting a glare at Duncan. But Duncan wasn't aware of it as he and Balfour exchanged worried looks.

Leonie, age 12, Jader Compound

Duncan dismounted and quietly handed the reins over to the stable boy, his eyes focused on the training yard.

Leonie was standing, knees bent, with a blunted short sword in one hand and a blunted dagger in the other, dodging and ducking the incoming attacks. Her sparring partner was the infamous Perot, two years older and substantially heavier and taller than she was. But she was clearly winning. Perot was breathless and sweating, his attacks becoming clumsy as she danced out of the way of them or parried them. He stumbled back and Leonie pounced on him, knocking him flat on his back and she straddled his chest, dagger at his throat.

"Do you yield, Perot?" she asked in a calm, strong voice. Duncan folded his arms across his chest, watching and waiting.

"Yes, yes. I yield, Leonie. But I want to know how you do that," the young man growled and she jumped up, offering her hand to him.

"Same time tomorrow? I'll show you how to use your shield as a weapon," she said and there was no trace of triumph in her voice. She whispered something to him and the young man laughed, clapping her on the back. Duncan chuckled when she staggered under the onslaught.

"Duncan!" Leonie cried, dropping the weapons and running to him. To his great relief, she did not launch herself at him. Those days had passed, and he was surprised to see how graceful she had become at an age when most girls were gangly and awkward. She threw her arms around him and hugged him fiercely.

"You missed my birthday!" she accused, staring up at him. "And Maker's breath! You have grown a beard!"

"I'm sorry I missed your birthday, My Lady. I have a present in my pack but perhaps you are too upset with me to receive it?" Duncan teased, resisting the impulse to ruffle her hair, which was already a bird's nest from her sparring practice.

"Perhaps I am. But I shall get over it before supper, I assure you," she said with a regal dignity that had them both laughing again.

"I think you look quite dashing with your beard and your earring. Like a Rivaini pirate."

"Hmmm, not the look I was striving for," Duncan replied, stroking his beard.

"Well, in that case, you look - erm - older and wiser?" she responded with a twinkle in her eye.

"Cheeky child," he replied affectionately and then he did ruffle her hair. To his surprise, she took umbrage with that action and in a flash she growled and ran inside.

Duncan looked across at Nila with a raised brow and a shrug of his shoulders.

Nila smiled and shook her head. "You treat her like a child when she wants to be a woman. A difficult age for a girl."

"Ah," was all he said but he stared after Leonie, frowning. One of his reasons for coming here every three months was to see her, to watch her grow. She was family, they all were. And for a man with so few happy memories of his own childhood, this was a haven he craved. To know he had upset Leonie, however inadvertently, gave him pause.

"Should I go up and talk to her?"

Nila and Balfour both smiled and shook their heads in unison. "You would not come out of that encounter unscathed. Best to let her come back down on her own."

Duncan sighed and gave a little huff of laughter. "I will never claim to understand females, no matter their age."

Leonie, age 16, Jader Compound

Duncan rode into the compound at dusk, expecting to see Leonie in the training yard or waiting for him, as was her custom but he was met by silence. None of the Wardens were in the training yard or the stables. The stable boy took his horse and led him away without a word. Duncan felt a stirring of unease. Usually bustling with activities, the quiet was unsettling, bordering on unnatural. He frowned as he strode across the grounds and entered the manor house. A young maid bobbed nervously at him and he could see her eyes were red and swollen from crying. His heart quickened.

"What is it? What's happened?"

"Young master died, Ser Duncan."

"Young master? You mean Ser Balfour?" Duncan asked, his voice sharper than he had intended, fear now beginning to bloom in his stomach.

"No, no. Young Perot. The Joining. They're building his pyre down in the meadow right now, except poor miss. She won't come out of her room. Been crying nonstop since last night. Won't eat, won't let anyone in."

"And all of the others are down in the meadow? Nobody stayed with her?" Duncan asked, surprised.

"No, ser."

"I'll go check on her. Fetch some cider and a plate of food, and bring it up in a bit," he instructed and took the stairs two at a time.

This was the reason he was relieved that none of his Ferelden recruits had asked to have their families with them at the Denerim compound. He would not have allowed it even if they had asked. The custom in Orlais amongst the Grey Wardens was to have a family and keep their family close. Too many Orlesians knew Warden secrets and too many family members were hurt by a failed Joining. But this was his surrogate family and he was grateful enough for them that he overlooked it. Except now because Leonie was grieving and no one was there to help her.

He tapped on the door but there was no response. He reached into his pouch and removed his lock pick tools. She would not thank him for it, he knew, but he could hear her sobs through the heavy wooden door and could not fathom why Nila or Balfour had left her alone.

"Leo?" he asked softly, his eyes adjusting to the darkness. He bumped into her table and groped for the lamp, illuminating the room in a soft glow.

"Go away," came a thick mumble from the bed and he moved closer.

"I can't do that," he said quietly but firmly. "You need to eat something."

He moved to the edge of the bed and sat down. He wasn't sure what he was going to say, he only knew he had to say something. She was drowning in her tears and her sorrow.

The air was stale and warm. He moved quietly to the window, pushing aside the curtains. A cool, gentling breeze stirred the air. He moved back to her bed and sat again, wondering what he could possibly do to help her. He knew nothing about comforting people. He only knew he was compelled to try.

"I'm not hungry. GO AWAY!" she shouted and began to sob again, dry and harsh sounds that tore at his heart. He reached for her and gathered her into his arms, stroking her hair.

"This is foolish, Lion. You have been around Grey Wardens long enough to know that people die in the Joining," he began and that's when she reared back and hit him across the cheek, so hard it snapped his head back and he bit his tongue, eyes watering.

Well that didn't go as expected, he thought wryly. But he pulled her close again and continued to stroke her hair.

"I killed him. It's my fault," she finally sobbed into his chest.

Duncan stopped stroking her hair. "What do you mean? I thought his Joining was not successful?"

"I - I goaded him into it. I called him a coward for not becoming a Grey Warden

"I was so sure he wouldn't make it that when he came and asked me to lay with him, I did because I knew ," she said on a wailing high note as fresh sobs shook her shoulders.

"He was eighteen, Leo. Old enough to know his own mind," he reminded her calmly, trying to ignore the sudden flare of darker emotion her confession had caused.

"I knew. I knew he didn't have the heart to survive. I could tell and I goaded him anyway," she whispered. "Maker take me, I killed him."

"No, Leonie. The Joining killed him."

"Oh don't keep saying that as if it somehow excuses what a heartless, mean spirited bitch I am!" she snapped suddenly and pushed away from him, standing up and pacing the room.

She turned back to look at him, hands on hips, daring him to disagree with her self assessment, but he could tell her eyes were not really focused on him, they were drawn inward, to stare at her own guilt.

He took in her appearance then. Gaunt, shadowed and haunted. Her eyes were swollen almost shut from her crying and her lips were cracked and dry. She looked ineffably sad and older than her years as she stood there. But he saw anger flare in her eyes and that was a good sign.

"Do you know why everyone calls you Lion?"

"Because I used to growl and hiss at people when I was mad," she said as if he were a simpleton. He chuckled.

"Well, yes you did. And clawed and bit when you were really angry. But that is not why we all call you Lion."

She stared at him, waiting for him to go on and when he didn't, she finally ground out, "So why is it, Duncan? Why do people call me Lion?"

"Because you have the heart of a lion. You are brave and fierce and protective. You have more courage in your heart than all of the rest of us put together.

"And you did not push Perot into joining the order. Your father would never have allowed him into the order if that was the case. You know this," he chided softly.

Her eyes focused on him finally and widened when she saw the clear red imprint of her hand on his ruddy cheek. She was immediately contrite and came to him, kneeling down. She reached out and touched his cheek, her hand cool against his stinging skin.

"Oh Duncan, you see? Heartless and mean spirited. I am so sorry," she whispered and leaning up, she kissed the stinging mark on his cheek. Which caused a reaction in the region of his heart that was totally unexpected and not at all welcomed. For a moment he was speechless, his thoughts completely gone out of his head. To his relief, she didn't seem to notice as she pushed up to her feet and moved around the room again in short, agitated steps.

"I should probably clean up and eat. The service will be starting soon, I think.

"And Duncan?"

"Yes?" he asked, feeling a rush of pride as she stood before him, once more the Lion.

"Thank you," she said and came and kissed his cheek again, her breath warm against his skin. And once again his heart somersaulted and he could feel the warmth of a blush making its way rapidly up his neck.

What an old fool, he thought with disgust as he made his way back down the stairs and out of the house.