Mastering the Dance
"Nathaniel there is nothing I can say to prepare you for the look and stench of the darkspawn. You will feel them, sense them, through your blood eventually. It may be too soon for you to do so now, but if you feel a tickling sensation, just below your skin that will be darkspawn."
Nathaniel looked at Leonie with a knotted brow. "I'll do my best," he responded, irony wrapping his words. He seemed nervous at times and aloof at other times. Leonie couldn't help but wonder if it was having Loghain in their midst. It was obvious that he regarded Loghain with some respect, but also some apprehension. But perhaps it was just the threat of darkspawn that was causing his anxiousness. A first encounter with the creatures was unnerving. She continued issuing orders.
"You seem most comfortable with a bow so I will ask that you stay back with Anders and fight from range. Protect Anders and take out any casters that you see."
Nathaniel's grey eyes were as cool as a spring fed lake but he nodded once in understanding. At least he wasn't snapping at her anymore. That was progress.
"Anders, focus mainly on healing. If there are casters, use a paralyzing spell or sleep spell if you have it. Call out if you get into trouble."
Anders grinned. "Any kind of trouble?" he asked, giving her a quick wink.
"Life threatening trouble. I shall have to guard my words very carefully around you, I think," Leonie retorted with a little huff of laughter.
She turned to Loghain. What could she possibly advise him on? Absolutely nothing. She would have to trust him if he was to become her second. Now seemed as good a time as any to begin. She hoped he would afford her the same courtesy, otherwise it would be an ugly fight in the close quarters of a cellar.
Surprising. There was no other way to describe how she felt. To see as hardened and unforgiving a man as Loghain kneeling before the Mabari with an almost tender gaze, gentling the dog with his voice took Leonie completely by surprise. She carefully schooled her face as he ministered to the dog and filed the image of his softened expression away in her brain. Perhaps it would help when she was so angry with him that she wanted to remove his sneer from his face with her fist.
He removed a note and without turning around, held it up to her as he continued to stroke the injured Mabari. She read it aloud and Nathaniel's face paled.
"We have to help her. She was more than just a mother to me," he said and there was anguish and fear in his voice.
"We shall do all we can," Leonie reassured but she saw Loghain's expression and knew he was thinking the same thing she was. Adria was probably already tainted and long beyond any help they could offer, except a quick and merciful death.
"Hand me your dagger," Loghain said softly. Leonie unsheathed it and handed it to him. His face was set in grim lines as he looked up at her and took the blade but, when he bent to his task, his voice was calm and gentle. "Sorry, girl," she heard him whisper before he quietly killed the dog.
Loghain stood up, his face once more a careful mask. They moved ahead, swords drawn. The tug, the painful pull of the darkspawn drew them forward. She glanced behind her at Anders and Nathaniel who wore identical expressions of discomfort. They were sensing darkspawn for the first time and Leonie almost chuckled at the look that passed between the two men.
"Five darkspawn in the next room, including an emissary. Be on the ready, Anders."
She felt Loghain's gaze on her, his eyebrow clearly quirking a question.
"Tainted for nearly ten years," she answered the silent query and she thought she might have caught a flicker of respect in Loghain's eyes. There and gone so quickly she couldn't be sure. Surely that was a step forward.
The fight was messy as Loghain and Leonie learned how to fight alongside one another. At one point she slipped on the blood and gore and in trying to right herself very nearly had her face sliced open by his sword as he swung it. His reach was longer than she had thought, longer than she was used to. It was only luck and the slippery floor that saved her as she threw herself forward and hit the ground. She heard his growl of disapproval as she scrambled to her feet. And there was a step back. Or two steps back. It was hard to tell with Loghain how many steps back she took at any one time. Her sigh never made it past her throat.
Nathaniel cried out when they found the room Adria had taken sanctuary in. The cobwebs hung as heavy as the tapestries in the throne room and the smell of darkspawn and death was suffocating. Leonie fought the sudden claustrophobia that descended on her like a shroud.
"Let me," Loghain whispered to her but she stayed his blade with a hand on his sword arm.
"Better it is me, yes? He is already angry with me and he shall need a friend after this," she replied just as softly. He was going to argue, she could tell from the way his body tensed but he nodded once reluctantly. And one step forward.
Nathaniel cried out, "Adria! Come, it's time to –" and then his voice trailed off as Adria turned to face him. "Help her!" he pleaded with Leonie.
They were much too late to help her. Adria was more ghoul than human, her silvery eyes no longer seeing more than her next meal.
"I am sorry, Nathaniel," Leonie murmured and moved forward. Adria did not go down gently. She fought fiercely but as the others dispatched the group of darkspawn that stood with Adria, Leonie found an opening and without hesitation, she plunged her sword through the tainted flesh of her neck. With a shriek that turned into a hiss and then fell silent, Adria collapsed.
Nathaniel dropped his bow and ran to the creature who had once meant more to him than his own flesh and blood mother. "No, Adria, no!" he cried softly, his voice raw with grief. He turned and the look he leveled on Leonie was full of venom and pain. She held his gaze steadily enough but it was a fight to maintain the eye contact, she felt herself shrinking inside herself, moving away from the moment. She was a commander and this was her duty. She watched as he sank beside Adria, reached out a hand to close her eyes.
"I am sorry, Nathaniel. The taint was already in control of her body. The Adria you knew was gone," she began and took a tentative step toward him but his face, so twisted by grief and anger, stopped her.
"You didn't even try," he ground out and then pushed himself onto his feet, moving to stand so close to her she could see the gold flecks in his grey eyes. Those grey eyes that were murderous and boring into her every bit as sharply as a finely honed blade. She represented everything he had lost and she saw it plainly enough in his eyes. Felt it in the unmistakable press of duty and regret and loss that wove around her heart and made it hard not to sink to the ground and weep. She straightened her shoulders and tilted her head slightly.
"You men go back and send Sergeant Maverlies and Voldrik down here. We need to find the entrance to the Deep Roads," she ordered, only a slight tremor in her voice that could easily be seens as the fatigue of the battle.
Silence and not a man moving. She hardened her expression and tone and added, "Now."
Loghain looked as if a protest was determined to find voice but he nodded once, a crisp move of his head and then spun on his heel, back rigid, and the others fell into step behind him. And there was the step back.
As soon as they moved beyond her sight, she sank onto the ground and closed her eyes, spent, as if they had taken the last of her strength with them. She would have to go through the bodies, loot what she could and she was not about to have the men witness that or, Maker forbid, help her with the grisly task. But the coffers were nearly empty and there was no other choice. After she discussed the collapse in the cellar with Voldrik, she went about the gruesome job of searching the bodies, feeling more grave robber than Grey Warden.
Nothing would please her more than to eat at her desk. This silence was at least peaceful, while the silence of her men was fraught with accusations and bitter acrimony and emotions she was simply too tired to think about. She set her quill aside and stared up at Duncan's portrait. "Help me be strong," she whispered and first one tear and then another burned a trail down her cheeks. Heart of a lion, indeed, she thought derisively. But scrubbing away the tears with her hands, she pushed back from her desk and made her way to the dining hall, not at all hungry and not at all happy about the prospect of the cold reception she was sure awaited her.
Anders looked up from his stew and grinned around a mouthful of food. A breath, held tightly in her chest, fluttered out in relief. She returned his grin with a slight smile, the best she could manage at the moment.
Dishing up a bowl of stew, she glanced up, through the veil of her lashes, to see that Loghain and Nathaniel were quietly eating. Somehow, though nothing was being said, she felt they had found some sort of common ground and the earlier hesitancy she had seen in Nathaniel when he was in Loghain's presence was gone. Another breath, held just as tightly in her chest as the first one, fluttered out. She brought the spoon to her lips and found she had an appetite after all.
"So tell me, are you really the Lion of Orlais?" Anders asked, leaning across the table to study her with a wicked smile. "You can tell me, I won't tell anyone," he added in a conspiratorial whisper.
She felt three pairs of eyes on her at his question and gave a wry laugh. "You will not have to tell anyone, Anders," she replied pointedly and went back to her stew.
"Oh come on, Commander Leonie, give us a hint at least," he implored, his grin bright and winsome.
Setting her spoon down and reaching for her mug of ale, she drank deeply. Finally, she set the mug down and met his dancing eyes. "Yes, I am the Lion of Orlais," she admitted with another wry laugh. "And it is not a glamorous tale, I assure you."
"Well, tell it and quit teasing us!" Anders urged.
Leonie glanced over at Loghain. "I hesitate to do so as it will only confirm Loghain's opinion of Orlesians," she said and there was a bit of a challenge in her words that she hadn't intended there to be. He quirked a brow in her direction but she began the tale, knowing that she may very well lose any ground she had gained. If he was going to be her second, he might as well know who she was.
"In Orlais, the nobility no longer have titles as they do in Ferelden. The only distinction they are given is through various labels that they earn through deeds and actions," she explained and for the next few minutes regaled them with the story of how she had become known as the Lion of Orlais.
Anders was laughing outright by the end of it and Nathaniel's hard scowl had softened considerably. Loghain's expression was almost unreadable but she thought she saw the briefest hint of a quirk of a smile before his face settled back into its habitual guarded detachment. Ah, a step forward.
"So you were lost when you knocked on my door," Anders said with feigned disappointment.
"I was. I fear I shall get lost many times until I am familiar with the layout of the Vigil."
"She got lost again when we were going to the kitchen," Nathaniel added and the icy venom that had coated his earlier words had thawed just a bit.
"I was not lost, merely confused as to the direction I should take," she protested, reaching for her ale again. "I assure you there is a vast difference between lost and confused."
"What about the other rumors?" Anders asked, eagerly leaning forward again.
"Anders, not all rumors are true," she chided.
"The one about you killing a man with your teeth? Is that true?"
"She told me she had killed a man with her teeth when I threatened to kill her," Nathaniel said quietly. "I had no reason to doubt her."
Heads began swiveling as both Anders and Loghain switched their gaze from Nathaniel to Leonie and back again. Loghain was clearly angry. And a step back. Anders was astounded if his expression was anything to go by.
With a shrug, Leonie stood and said, "So there you have it, Anders. Two rumors and two truths."
As she made her way to the door, she turned. "Please be in my office at dawn tomorrow. I have spoken to the cook and she will ensure breakfast is served at that time."
With that, she made her way to her office and closed the door behind her. Sitting at her desk, she began to count and was surprised to reach twenty before the knock came. She had expected it to take far less time for Loghain to find her.
He was angry but the anger was already hidden behind a mask of cool disinterest. She could tell from his posture, held barely in check, that he disapproved of her decision regarding Nathaniel. Ah, she reflected, not certain whether to laugh or cry, another step back.
"Is there something you needed, Loghain?" she inquired and to her relief, her voice was even and cool.
"You conscripted a man who wants you dead? Who came here to kill you?" he asked and there was a hint of disbelief in his voice, an undercurrent of anger. "Do you really think that was a wise decision?"
Leonie was beginning to realize that his voice was like a fine wine. The first sip was crisp and cool but the undercurrents, the complexity and character of it were full of nuances and subtleties that one had to search carefully to find.
"That is an odd series of questions coming from a man who was conscripted by someone he was trying to kill," she responded ironically.
"I have always thought that decision unwise," he replied finally and she detected a note of genuine confusion in his answer. A step forward, she thought.
"If Riordan suggested the idea, and I have no reason to believe he did not, then Surana would have been foolish to do otherwise. Good men are not those who are without flaws, Loghain. Good men are those with the heart to do what they must, no matter the consequences. Surely I do not have to tell you that?"
Loghain looked as though he wanted to speak but he remained silent, his eyes intent on hers, as if searching for a hidden barb to her words. When the silence had stretched as far as her nerves would allow, she asked, "Is there anything else, Loghain?"
"No," he said and quietly left the room. And there was a step forward.
She thought she might be mastering the pattern of his dance.