Directions
Mornings, for Leonie, had always been filled with possibilities. And nothing spoke more to that feeling than the Loghain's now discarded orders for Montsimmard. As she finished buckling into her armor the following morning, she was not so foolish as to think that things with Loghain would suddenly be warm and close. She had wounded him and he was not a man to take wounds, especially to his pride, with equanimity. She hoped, however naïve it was to hope for such things, that they could at least find a less poisonous way of dealing with each other. She knew she had altered the steps of their dance and that now they would have to start all over, learning new steps. At least they had both expressed a willingness to try and learn those new steps. The possibility was there for a better relationship and she would strive to meet his effort with equal effort.
After a meeting with Varel, she found her way to the dining hall and her men, all gathered around a table and talking amongst themselves. Pausing for a moment to look at each one, she felt a brief rush of optimism. Maybe there was the possibility that they could forge some semblance of camaraderie, a Grey Warden family. She found herself smiling as she looked on at them, wondering if perhaps they were finally traveling in a better direction.
Anders, so happy to be out of the tower and the control of the templars was easy to like, easy to trust because in many ways, his emotions were an open book. She doubted he was quite as open as he let on, but he was irresistible in his boyish charm and she had liked him from the beginning. He would be a good friend.
Nathaniel was quieter, darker in both looks and temperament, very difficult to read at times. But there was a sweetness in his unguarded moments, a courtliness that belied the harshness of his upbringing and spoke to that nobility of spirit she had first seen in him. He had a temper and he had moments where his own bitterness threatened to spill over on to others, but he was growing, letting go of the bitterness and moving forward. She could do no less and found that her smile widened.
Loghain was the real mystery and it surprised her to see him there, discussing bows with Nathaniel in a cordial manner. It struck her, as she watched him, that Loghain may not be a stranger in a strange land, but he had become a stranger in a familiar land and that must be, at times, even more difficult to cope with. He had gone from an admired hero and powerful landowner, to a regent and then fallen from grace to become a pariah to many, a Grey Warden without title or fame. Even those who called him the Hero of Ferelden often mistook him for the one who had slain the Archdemon and when they learned he was not, they didn't hide their disappointment. The tightly woven threads of her anger began to slowly unravel as that realization came to her.
"Good morning again, Commander Leonie. Your orders are being carried out," Varel said quietly, coming to stand beside her.
"Thank you, Varel. You are a marvel of efficiency," Leonie said and found herself touching his arm in thanks, no longer afraid to touch a person, even if they were Fereldan. When he did not flinch at the gesture, she felt a small surge of relief and another blossom of hope that the new direction would bring them all to a better destination.
She had asked him to find an office for Loghain. If he was truly going to act as second, he would need a place to work. After a brief discussion with Varel they decided the room adjoining her office would do well. Formerly a sitting room, it was large and had an entrance from the hallway as well as a door between their offices. Varel was also finding larger accommodations for Loghain. She had glimpsed his bedroom the night before and been appalled at how small it was. She had asked Varel to check with Nathaniel and Anders to ensure they had comfortable quarters as well. The three men sitting before her were the Senior Wardens of Ferelden, whether they knew it or not.
"Good morning," she said, finally entering the dining room and coming to sit beside Anders.
"Wow, you look terrible," Anders whistled, looking at her.
"Thank you, Anders. The only thing a woman hopes to hear more than that is that she has gained weight," Leonie retorted with a grin. She heard Nathaniel snicker and Anders looked slightly abashed before speaking again.
"I just mean the bruises from the ogre dance," he said helpfully.
She raised her eyebrows at him but he was busy looking elsewhere.
"I have spoken to the cook who is arranging meal packets for us. We are off to the Winding Woods," she began and now she heard a snicker from Loghain.
"Wending Wood," Nathaniel corrected quietly with a smile.
"Yes, exactly so," she agreed, reaching for a large chunk of cheese. "Which direction is it in, again?" Nathaniel groaned good naturedly.
"I suppose none of you will actually let me lead us on this excursion?"
"Not a chance, Commander," he agreed and went back to sipping his tea.
"What about, you know, the Grand Game?" Anders whispered loudly, furtively looking around him. Leonie thought he wouldn't last a day in Empress Celene's court with his boyish wide-eyed playfulness.
"We will discuss the plans for that along the way. I have been led to believe we will not reach the area until tomorrow afternoon. Unless there are horses hidden somewhere on the premises?" Nathaniel shook his head.
"We shall depart within the hour," she added, grabbing an apple and heading back to her office. Varel had left a stack of requisitions on her desk, as well as Mistress Woolsey's latest treasury report. Unfortunately, his requests and her funds did not coincide. She went through them and then looked up with a sigh.
"There will never be enough money for everything," she groaned, putting her chin in her hands and pushing the requisitions away.
"Perhaps Esmerelle and Eddlebrek will contribute," Loghain said, lounging against the door frame, ankles crossed and arms folded across his chest. There was a smile trying very hard to turn his lips up at the corners and almost succeeding.
"Yes, they are more than likely feeling great shame for their avaricious and miserly behavior, no doubt," she agreed and demonstrated how smiling was done. He seemed a slow student as the lines of his mouth once again straightened.
"Has Varel shown you to your new office?" she asked, setting the papers aside and rising. She felt unaccountably nervous at his continued presence.
"I'm to have an office, am I?" he asked with a quirk of his brow. She was beginning to recognize his smile by the look in his eyes as the intensity of the expression in them eased.
"As my second I thought you might prefer that to conducting business out of the dining hall? I am most willing to have you do so, however, if that is your wish," she replied, moving to him and motioning for him to follow her.
"How convenient. Am I to be at your beck and call then?" he asked derisively when they entered his new office and she nodded.
"I really hope that there is a sycophant somewhere inside you. I find I rather like the idea of having one, you see."
"I feel compelled to warn you that you'll be sadly disappointed in that regard," he remarked dryly and she found herself chuckling as she turned to go back to her office and then stopped, looking back at him.
"Oh, I thought you should know, Loghain. Should anything happen to me, I have sent a recommendation that you be made the Warden Commander of the Grey of Ferelden."
"You are a very impetuous woman," he said quietly and there was an odd note of something that sounded faintly like respect in his voice and that was not what she expected to hear.
"I know. It is a very Orlesian trait," she replied, walking away with a smile. She was almost sure she heard a snicker or a snort or perhaps even a chuckle. It was a sound she had not heard from him before and she found she rather liked it. Which made her steps falter as she entered her office.
"We need horses," Anders complained, coming to walk beside her.
"Yes, we do. More importantly, we need the funds for such luxuries," Leonie responded dryly and shifted her pack wishing, not for the first time, that the others had horses. Leaving Vixen behind had not been easy.
"You're an arlessa. Surely you have money," he protested and gave her a winsome smile.
"Absolutely, Anders. I do this forced march only to watch you suffer."
"I knew it!" Anders cried in triumph. "I just didn't think you'd actually admit it," he added with a grin.
The sun was slowly sinking and the shadows were stretching across the road, long spiking fingers that wavered as the wind rustled through the trees. The day was pleasant and the night promised to be cool. She was looking forward to a warm fire and a good night's sleep, just not the hard ground she would have to sleep on.
"We still haven't talked about…you know…the game," he said with a conspiratorial smirk, glancing from side to side.
"You have the patience of a three year old, you do know that, yes?"
"Really? Because I feel like I've been remarkably patient," he disagreed with a disappointed sigh and fell back to walk with Nathaniel.
"We should stop soon, set up camp," Loghain said quietly, taking Anders' place at her side.
"I agree. I leave it to you to find the best site," she responded and grimaced at the thought of setting up her tent and sleeping on the hard ground. Her ribs were protesting and her entire body still ached. She had an odd assortment of bruises along the left side of her body. Some were the color of a sunset on a stormy day.
"How far are we from the Wending Wood?"
"At this pace we'll be there tomorrow in the early afternoon. I suggest setting up a base camp as soon as we arrive and then finding the darkspawn."
Leonie shivered. The closer they drew to their destination, the more uneasy she became. There was something out there, something that was pulling at her and yet it didn't feel like darkspawn. Loghain frowned at her. Was the Architect out there? Certainly not nearby, whatever she was feeling was barely a whisper of a thought.
"I have to agree with Anders. You look terrible," he said quietly.
"Thank you. Nothing quite cheers a woman up like those three words," she responded with another grimace.
"What is it?" he asked and stopped to look at her.
"I think perhaps I am just tired, Loghain."
He stared at her, his eyes intent and probing. "Don't be foolish," he warned and his voice had taken on that cold edge that let her know he was not happy with her answer, but he began walking again, continuing on until he found a spot near a small stream.
She gratefully slid her pack off her shoulders and rolled her shoulders. Anders came up and with an inquiring look, began to cast his blue glow around her. She could feel the power of his healing flowing through her and the aches subsided. Setting up her tent was far less painful than she had anticipated and before long Loghain had a fire going and they were all eating their flat bread and dried meat.
"So tell me, fearless leader, did you kill a Chevalier?"
Leonie glanced over the rim of her mug and eyed him warily. "You want to tell campfire stories?" she asked in surprise.
"Well, I want you to tell one, sure," he enthused, stroking Ser Pounce's ginger fur.
"I will do so only if you tell us about one of your escapes from the tower," she bargained and he shook his head.
"You don't play fair at all, Commander."
"Leonie. You may all call me Leonie when it is just us. Or Leo."
"Not Lion?" Anders asked and she sighed.
"Or Lion," she conceded and leaned back against the log she had propped herself against.
"So, did you?" Anders asked again and Loghain spoke.
"You're like a dog worrying a bone, mage," he groused. Ser Pounce hissed once in Loghain's direction and then curled up again on Anders' lap, licking his whiskers sleepily. He eyed the kitten with no small amount of animosity. Leonie bit back a snicker. Loghain and the kitten were developing a mutual dislike for each other. She wondered how long before one of them drew blood.
"Yes, I killed a Chevalier."
Anders leaned forward, grinning at her. "Was he the one you killed with your teeth?" and he really did resemble a small boy listening to stories of heroes and legends.
"No, we fought a duel," Leonie said softly, absently rubbing along the scar that ran along her neck.
"You fought a duel with a Chevalier and won? That's rather…scary, actually," Nathaniel interjected and there was a bit of awe mingled with a bit of fear in his voice.
Loghain stared at her and frowned. "Is that something you do often? Duel?" he asked and there was that coolness once again in his voice, a note of disapproval and she returned his frown with one of her own.
"I do not." Her voice was quiet and she turned her gaze to the fire, falling silent.
"So do we have to drag the story out of you?" Anders asked, scratching Ser Pounce and cooing over him.
"Not at all, I do not plan on telling any story until you regale us with one."
Anders sighed in defeat.
"The first attempt, and not my finest, lasted three hours. Long enough for me to get to the nearest tavern and have a pint or two before the templars came and collected me. It seems that they have an agreement with the proprietors regarding mages."
Nathaniel laughed outright at that and it was the first time Leonie had heard him genuinely laugh. Deep and low, it was a rich laugh and not, she suspected, something he did frequently. "You stopped and had ale while you were escaping? No wonder you never succeeded, mage," Nathaniel snorted.
"Well, escaping is thirsty work," Anders explained and he grinned at them. "And there was a beautiful barmaid there, Sondra. Tried to talk her into coming with me."
Leonie was laughing now as well. "So you escaped the tower, which is full of young women, to go to a tavern and pick up the first woman you encountered? I have to agree with Nathaniel."
"Now, I've told my tale. Your turn," he said, shooting her another boyish grin.
"I believe the request was to tell us how you escaped," Leonie reminded him with a grin.
Anders looked a bit embarrassed. "I borrowed the cook's clothes and walked out."
"And the templars didn't sense your magic? Come, Anders, do not tease us."
"The cook was interested in me. You know, because I'm stunningly handsome and virile," he began, waggling his brows at Leonie who feigned disbelief. "So we went to her room and well, she fell asleep afterwards so I liberated her clothes. She wasn't wearing them anyway. A little soot from the fireplace and a plate of her famous pastries, laced with enough sleeping potion to knock out a horse, and the templars never knew what hit them."
By now he had captured their attention completely and he described how he had gone down to the dock only to see that the boat was on the far shore. So he had jumped into the lake and swam to the shore.
"Did they not find it odd that a stunningly handsome, virile man such as yourself came in wearing a very wet dress?" Leonie asked and they were both laughing again.
"Yes, well I didn't say it was a perfect plan," Anders defended.
"Say," he went on with a big smile, "did you just call me stunningly handsome and virile?" He preened in an exaggerated manner.
"Not at all, Anders. You called yourself stunningly handsome and virile. I merely repeated it. My father always told me it is better to agree with a delusional person than to try and argue them out of their delusion," Leonie replied and then she heard it. Loghain's laugh, rusty from disuse and not very loud, but she felt as if she had received a very precious gift. She turned her gaze to him and he met her look with a raised brow and a gleam in his eyes.
"Now, it's your turn, Lion," Anders said, leaning forward eagerly.
"My story is much too somber for so light a mood," she said and then continued, her voice full of mirth, "I do, however, have a tale about a friend of mine."
With a grin, she embarked on the story of Riordan, his tryst with a bard, his hasty departure from her room and his subsequent race down the back stairs of a tavern in a peacock blue wrapper. She didn't mention his name and if Loghain guessed, he didn't say but as they all finished laughing, he met her eyes again and there was a hint of warmth in his gaze. And this too was a new direction, a new hope.
The first strands of friendship began to weave around them, as delicate and fragile as a spider's silk.
A/N: The tale Leonie recounts is from chapter thirteen of "The Lion of Orlais", entitled "Shenanigans" and is a shameless way of promoting my earlier story.
