id:6421225

A/N:I am having computer problems. I blame Bill Gates. I may be slow in updating the story for the next few days. *Kicks hard drive, cursing*

Requests

Everyone gathered for mulled cider in the great room where a large fire was burning cheerily. The Wardens were celebrating and the mood was festive. She chuckled as she watched a rather cocky Loghain leaning one elbow on the mantle, ankles casually crossed, as he listened to a very excited Sigrun recounting the duel from her perspective. Leonie thought there would be no living with the man for a period of time and it amused her to see the slight swagger in him now.

After speaking to Aura about preparing a large celebration dinner and finding some gowns for the Orlesian Wardens, Leonie squelched up the stairs, leaving a trail of wet footprints in her wake. She was still shivering from the deluge she'd been caught in. Even though the rain had washed much of the mud off her, there were still bits of it clinging to her cheek and arm. Her boots made littlesquish squish sounds as she walked down the hall to her room. Removing wet armor and padding was not an easy task but Leonie had just managed to finish when the hot water for her bath arrived. As it was brought in, she heard the sound of boisterous laughter and loud voices from below and she smiled. The evening was going to be even livelier than last night, she suspected.

Val Royeaux and her former life there seemed so long ago. Her thoughts turned to Didier and his unfailing kindness to her, especially after her duel with Maraville. The guilt inspired by Laurent's concern for Didier niggled at her as she soaked aching muscles in the warm bathwater. She felt a pull, a desire to go and visit with her old friend before it was too late, but it seemed an impossible dream. The need to recruit and rebuild the Order in Ferelden, to oversee the arling, must take precedent for now and the foreseeable future. She wondered if she could combine a recruitment trip in Orzammar with a quick trip to Val Royeaux.

There were other considerations as well. She wanted to visit her mother and uncle in the Bannorn. And she felt a strong need to go to Ostagar, to pay her respects to those Wardens who had died there, to see where the darkspawn firestorm had first begun. Sighing, she realized that there was also the Landsmeet in the spring that she would have to attend, especially if she hoped to alleviate any concerns over her appointment of Delilah Howe Beechem as Bann of Amaranthine. Going to Orlais, no matter how much she wanted it, was not in her future.

Cocking her head to one side, Leonie sat up, listening. She was sure she had heard a noise coming from her bedroom, the low whine of hinges as a door opened. Her heart began to beat nervously. Her mouth went dry.

"Astrid?" she called out, her voice reedy with sudden dread. She strained to hear even the faintest noise, other than the steady beat of the rain and the hum of the wind coming through her boarded up window.

Cautiously, quietly, she reached for her bathsheet and slowly stood up, stepping out of her bath before pausing to listen again. She moved forward again and then heard what sounded like the quiet click of a door being closed. Gripping her bathsheet tightly, she ran to the door and pulled it open, peering along the hallway. It was empty. Had she imagined it? She must have.

Shivering as much from nerves as the cold, she stepped back into her room and quietly shut and locked her door. She went to the small desk she used for private correspondence, frowning thoughtfully. Everything appeared undisturbed. The sheets of vellum, the ink well and her letters all seemed to be in their proper place and when she opened the drawers, they all seemed to be as she had left them. She continued to look around her room but found no evidence of anything missing or even out of place. Was it just an overwrought imagination? Had it been all those months of watching and waiting for Esmerelle to strike that left her feeling so twitchy? Was she still stressed from her encounter with the Architect and the implications of his words? Her unease warred with her common sense. She was tired; her emotions had been in turmoil for months. It was making her edgy and forgetful.

A loud rapping at her door caused her to jump and let out a ragged, husky cry of surprise, which made her feel foolish. "Who is it?" she called out hesitantly, moving toward the door. She chided herself for being irrational, tamping down her anxiousness.

"Commander?" Loghain asked, his voice muffled through the thick wooden door. She turned the lock and opened the door, still clutching her bathsheet to her. He raised a brow as he looked at her.

"I see I was expected," he said with a smirk as he entered her room.

Leonie gave him a weak smile and moved to her armoire. "Or you simply believe now that you have beaten Laurent soundly, I will throw myself at your feet, a humble and obedient servant to your whims," she teased. She had striven for lightness but there was still an edge, a sharpness caused by anxiety, in her voice.

"What is it?" he asked quietly, coming to stand behind her. It was a bit unnerving to see how easily he seemed to read her moods now. She wasn't sure she liked it.

"Nothing but an overactive imagination," she replied with a quiet chuff of embarrassed laughter.

"What is it?" he repeated more firmly, his hands coming to span her waist.

"I thought I heard something while I was taking my bath but there was no one in the room and nothing has been disturbed. It is just as I say, an overactive imagination," she said, leaning back against him, feeling his solid warmth calming her.

Loghain stilled and she could almost feel the frown on his features as it formed, even without seeing it. "Are you certain?"

"I looked, there was no one in the hall and nothing is missing, everything exactly as I left it. I probably dozed off and imagined it," Leonie explained, feeling even more foolish. She sounded just like the kind of hysterical woman she detested. She straightened, moving away from his embrace to turn and face him.

"You don't think it more likely, with a house full of Orlesian guests, that someone was prowling around your desk and your room?" he asked mildly. But there was certain grim accusation in his tone that immediately raised her hackles. She took a deep breath.

"Please, Loghain. Can we not have one full day where we do not argue or disparage one another? Could this not be such a day?" she beseeched, hands reaching out to rest lightly on his arms, which were now folded across his chest. She looked into his eyes, willing him to back down.

"As long as you understand that we need to have this conversation," he finally relented, reaching out and pulling her into his arms. "And have it we will," he added firmly.

Leonie hid her smile in the soft folds of his linen shirt. "You have an extremely odd notion as to which of us is the Warden Commander," she said lightly. She closed her eyes, breathing deeply. He smelled earthy, of the pine logs that burned in the great hearth and the sweetly bitter autumn leaves and fresh air newly burnished by the rain. She felt an almost dizzying need for him begin to build deep within her. Her breath hitched as the intensity of it flooded into her.

His arms tightened as if he could feel her need and it seemed to fuel his own need. He slanted his mouth over hers, his lips urgent and hot and then his tongue was teasing hers. Her bathsheet fell from her, a victim of Loghain's hands; hands that were now exploring her body in an unrestrained manner that was unlike him. Her moan caught in her throat as he let his fingers massage her breasts. There was a greedy abandon to his kisses that ignited her blood and made breathing impossible.

She set about divesting him of his clothes as he continued his assault on her mouth and body. Her desire was flowing through her, damp and hot. Her breath was coming in short, wanton gasps as his mouth moved from hers, biting and sucking at the sensitive skin of her neck.

She felt the roughness of wood pressing against her and realized he had backed her up against the edge of her desk. She felt his growl as she finally freed him and she let her hand stroke along his length. He lifted her until she was sitting on the desk and she wrapped her legs around him, drawing him closer, felt the heat of him filling her, penetrating her. Her blood was singing in her veins and she was crying out as she met his thrusts with her own. He bent over her, tongue and teeth moving along her breasts, pulling and suckling and nibbling. She tangled her hands in his hair, directing his tongue and the heat was coiling and becoming unbearable in her, a trembling that continued to build.

"Yes," she breathed over and over; a litany, a prayer, a request for him to continue and he answered her, burying deeper and deeper in her with each thrust until the world fell away and she was calling to him to catch her, to come with her and he was, raising his head and meeting her fevered look with one of his own, blue eyes dark and heavy lidded as he shuddered, staggering with the force of his release. He lowered his head, caught her lips with his, his breath still uneven and ragged as he rested lightly against her.

"I love you, Loghain," she whispered against his lips, hands moving from his hair to sweep across the wide expanse of his shoulders. "I love you," she whispered again.

"And I you," he replied, resting his lips against the curve of her neck. A soft sigh against her skin, "And I you."

Leonie did not wear the gown she had intended. A rather colorful mark on her neck forced her to wear a cream colored kirtle with a high, stiffened collar and a heavy brocaded overdress of pearl grey. Her hair, now almost to her shoulders, was pulled back into a tight braid, wisps falling gently around her face. Astrid stood back and admired her.

"I wish I was staying, Lady Leonie. You seem so happy again. It does my heart good to see it," the young woman said, her pales eyes glittering with tears.

"You are not staying?" Leonie asked, more than a little surprised by her former maid's words. She had assumed Astrid had come to take up her post once more as her personal maid.

"I wanted to but I was told, as a maid in service to the Grey of Orlais, I could not," the young woman replied with a sad expression on her softly freckled face. "I'm not even sure why they let me come along."

"Oh, Astrid, no. You are not an indentured servant and they cannot make you stay anywhere you do not wish to stay," Leonie contradicted firmly but gently. "Who told you such a thing?"

"Warden Laurent. He speaks for Leireaux, the new Warden Commander of Val Royeaux."

Leonie felt a hot spark of anger at the news. "Warden Laurent is the Second to the Commander of Val Royeaux?" she asked tightly.

"Yes, Lady Leonie. That's why they sent him."

In all the years she had known Laurent, he had never desired a place in the hierarchy of the Grey Wardens. He loathed all things political. He had been teased about that very fact many times. Why now was he a Second, poised to become Commander of Val Royeaux in the future?

"I shall talk with Laurent about this, Astrid," she promised, patting the young woman's hand reassuringly, her mind turning over the news with unease. What was happening in Orlais? And why had they allowed Astrid to come with them, only to take her back to Orlais again? That made no sense. There was more going on than she knew and she found it very troubling. She would have a talk with Laurent in the morning and she would not allow him to put her off with clever words or outrageous behavior.

As Leonie went downstairs a few minutes later, she spied Teodar talking quietly with Varel. With a warm smile, she greeted them both. If Varel was surprised to see her so formally dressed, he hid it behind his usual mask of deference and bureaucracy and she looked deeper to see the pride in them as well. He was just as proud of her Wardens as she was.

"Should you not be dressing?" she asked Teodar with a pert smile. Teodar, a faint stain on his usually pale cheeks, nodded.

"I was just speaking with your Seneschal about the city of Amaranthine. Our ship sails on tomorrow evening's tide."

Leonie felt a keen disappointment at the news that her friends would be leaving so soon. "I had hoped you would stay longer, Teo. Is there not a later ship you can take?"

Teodar shook his head. "The Imperial Fleet sent a ship for us. It wouldn't do to refuse Empress Celene," he explained. Leonie felt a frisson of unease run through her.

"Are things as Laurent says?"

"There is trouble brewing between Nevarra and Orlais. Perendale and the western hills area again."

"Andraste's grace, that has been a problem since the war in 8:70 Blessed but I thought things were still calm there," Leonie replied in surprise. The border dispute had waxed and waned for over fifty years. Why was it suddenly a problem? She gave voice to her question.

"A group of Nevarran Wardens were ambushed by the Orlesian border guard. Ten men killed. There were the usual apologies but they did little to stop the anger. Several Nevarran Wardens serving in Orlais have transferred back home," Teodar explained quietly.

"You are Nevarran, yet you stay," she reminded him, placing a light hand on his shoulder as she looked into his silver grey eyes, searching for the answers to questions that were beginning to stir in her brain.

"I'm not staying," he answered with a certain quiet dignity. "I am returning to Nevarra once we land in Orlais, Lion. But I would ask that you keep that quiet," he added.

Leonie nodded, too stunned by the news to speak. Finally, when the shock had receded somewhat she said, "We are not political, Teodar. How can we effectively serve all the nations of man if we get involved in the politics of war?" Her voice was still strained from the shock.

"That's disingenuous of you, Lion. The Wardens of Ferelden settled a civil war by gathering enough political support to sway a Landsmeet. Before that, they settled the dispute of who would ascend the throne of Orzammar. And you were involved in the overthrow of a corrupt regime in Weisshaupt that also led to the eventual downfall of the government in the Anderfels. We have always been tasked to become involved in politics if it is in the best interests of the Grey Wardens," Teodar argued, his grey eyes intense as they met Leonie's.

"Teo, the events in Ferelden were during a Blight, a time which necessitated any means available, no matter how unsavory. As to the other, I am not sure I can mount a strong defense for that except to assure you that it was for the greater good, or so it seemed at the time," Leonie replied earnestly.

Before their discussion could continue, a young servant girl came to tell Teodar that he was wanted by Laurent. Leonie leaned forward and kissed Teo's cheek. "We shall talk again of this matter, Teo. Know that you have a home here if you so desire, my dear friend."

Alistair came into the dining hall, looking young and more relaxed than Leonie had ever seen him. "Wow, you're all dressed up. Are we having a party?" he asked with a boyish grin. There was something about Alistair that stirred her sleeping maternal instincts. She found herself constantly fighting the urge to pinch his cheek or ruffle his hair, which was always perfectly brushed, each strand of hair in place. She was relieved to see that he was taking care of himself again, that he was beginning to take pride in himself again.

"That is the rumor, yes," she replied with a grin. "And as you have seen for yourself, we Wardens are a fun group at parties, are we not?"

"I'll say. And great gossipers too. I learned lots of juicy stories from Laurent and Shaniel last night," he agreed enthusiastically.

"Remember what they say about gossip, Alistair. It is most often flavor over substance."

"Ooh, is that a food reference? I'm starving," he responded with another grin and went in the direction of the kitchens.

Sigrun and Anders entered the dining hall discussing the events of the day. "Good evening, Wardens," she greeted warmly.

"Hey, Lion. So, what is the whole Veil thing?" Anders asked as he came to stand beside her. He and Sigrun were watching her with great interest. Leonie shrugged.

"Anders, you are a mage. Surely I do not have to explain the Veil to you," she said with a mischievous smile.

"There are times when I really don't like you," Anders complained good-naturedly.

"I would not have it any other way, Anders."

As they stood talking, Nathaniel and Tamra arrived, arm in arm. Tamra had traded her splintmail for a dress the color of sea foam that set her coloring off beautifully. Judging from the heated glances Nathaniel kept throwing Tamra's way, he thought so too.

Loghain entered close on the heels of the young lovers and once Alistair returned from the kitchen, a bright red apple in his hand, Leonie nodded to Varel, who went to tell the Orlesian Wardens it was time for their show. Loghain's hand was warm on the small of her back as they made their way to the head table. He was not usually keen on showing any affection openly and yet today that had not been the case. She wasn't complaining, but she was curious about the change and couldn't help but wonder if it would continue once the Orlesian Wardens returned home.

"You look different," he remarked as they took their seats. She had placed him on her left and she turned her gaze on him, eyebrow arched.

"It is difficult to determine from your tone if it is a good different or a bad different. But with your penchant for flowery compliments, I shall accept you meant the remark in a good way and so I thank you," she responded with a smile, reaching up to graze his cheek lightly with her fingertips.

"A little decorum, if you please, Commander," he responded but his smirk was rather smug as he turned away from her gaze.

If only all days could be this way, Leonie thought wistfully. The closeness she felt with each of her Wardens; Loghain and the sweet accord that flowed between them were even more important to her than winning the Challenge of Brothers had been. Which was not to say she didn't enjoy the victory at all. She was still gloating, as were all her Wardens, and deservedly so, she thought with a fond smile.

Before her thoughts could continue on their present course, Varel announced the Orlesian Wardens. It amazed Leonie how seven people could produce such loud and boisterous laughter but the Grey Wardens of Ferelden nearly raised the roof with their raucous amusement.

As the Senior Warden, Laurent entered first. He was wearing a pale pink gown with a row of coral ribbons along the mercifully high cut bodice. His chestnut locks were pulled back from his handsome, scarred face by small silver combs. He dropped a clumsy curtsy and an outrageous grin before he swept his arm out, indicating his fellow Wardens.

Of all ten of the Orlesian Wardens, Shaniel was far and away the prettiest. His violet eyes and lustrous brown hair seemed perfectly suited for the lilac color of his wool gown. He was blushing as he entered and his eyes were downcast as he carefully made his way to Laurent's side.

Big and beefy Armand was garbed in a rather large, tent like dress of burgundy, a particularly good choice for his dark eyes and hair. He did not drop a curtsy, he merely glowered at the assembled Wardens and stomped over to stand by Shaniel. Leonie's sides were beginning to ache from her laughter.

Where Volthier had found a dress long enough to fit his very tall frame, Leonie couldn't guess, but it brushed the ground as he walked in, a dark green concoction with a large and fancy bow in the front. And low cut which made the Ferelden Wardens groan in something akin to disgust as his broad, scar covered chest was more exposed than it had any right to be. But the color did good things for his skin and so Leonie told him loudly. There was another roar of laughter as many of the Orlesian Wardens joined in.

By far, her favorite was Teodar, quiet and stoic Teodar, wearing a bright blue velvet gown with wide sleeves and a silver girdle. His silver streaked hair was caught up in a braid and his curtsy was one any woman would be proud of. He blew Loghain a kiss before taking his spot and Leonie was thankful she had not taken the sip of wine she'd wanted to, she would have choked. The expression on Loghain's face was making it hard for her to catch her breath, her laughter nearly overcoming her completely. There was a mixture of indignation, humor and arrogant disdain warring for prominence and he blinked his eyes several times as if completely mystified by the spectacle.

Once all the Orlesian Wardens had taken their place, Laurent stepped forward. "Warden Commander Leonie, we humbly submit our forfeiture to you and ask that you take it in the spirit in which it is given."

Clearing his throat, he nodded to his Wardens and they began to sing a very lively song, one whose tune was familiar but as Leonie listened, she realized they had altered the words. Her blush sat warmly upon her cheeks.

In Val Royeaux they sing a song, a sad and bawdy tale,
About a lovely lioness and her painted veil.

She danced with quick and clever steps for young and even old,
A saucy smile upon her face and eyes so very bold.

One night a thief did steal a kiss and took her painted veil,
And oh our lovely lioness, her face turned wicked pale.

She stopped her dancing straightaway, her hands upon her hips,
And men were shocked to hear such words coming from her lips!

The room of Wardens went quite mad, they begged for her to stay,
But on that night she wept and wailed and then she ran away.

Now they claim the sultry Lioness went quietly insane,
But I tell you now truthfully, she merely found Loghain.
Oh I tell you now truthfully, she merely found Loghain!

With a flourish and bow, they sang the last verse again, loudly. Leonie, torn between hiding her face and laughing, settled for laughing. The other Wardens were stomping their feet and asking the Orlesians to sing it again. Laurent, with that boyish, evil glint in his eye, said he would only if Leonie danced for them. She declined his request with a smile of her own and then asked that dinner be served as soon as the Orlesian Wardens had changed out of their gowns. But her blush rose again.

As the singers made their way out of the dining hall, Loghain leaned close, his voice pitched low.

"I'll have to request that veil dance some night soon."

Her blush seemed intent on remaining where it was.

A/N: The tune for their song is from an old drinking song, "The Night Paddy Murphy Died" although almost any Irish drinking song will work.
There is a one-shot featuring the Dance of the Stolen Veil entitled "A Veiled Dance"