Learning to Love

Seeing her pain, hearing the agonized, heartbroken sobs choking her, Loghain didn't care if he was old and foolish. He didn't care if the others saw him as a vain, lecherous man. He only knew that Leonie Caron was in great pain and he would not let her face it alone. He sank down beside her and pulled her into his arms, holding her while her grief flooded over them both, her tears burning into the flesh of his neck.

He sat there long after his legs had gone numb and the hard ground had played havoc with his back. He sat there long after her sobs had dissolved into hiccups and fallen mute, drying on his skin as her breath, coming in great gulps, slowed and steadied. He sat there feeling the even rise and fall of her chest, knowing she had fallen asleep from the shock.

And there, in the gathering gloom, amidst the earthy smells of moldering hay and leather tack, he discovered something remarkable. Himself. Not General Loghain. Not the Hero of River Dane. Not Teyrn Loghain and certainly not Regent. Just Loghain Mac Tir, farmer and Warden. Just a man. A stubborn, stiff-necked man, prone to quick anger and dark thoughts, bitter on the best of days, too proud by far, who was being offered a gift and he wondered, as he held Leonie in his arms, if it wasn't time he learned how to accept it.

The others had all made their way into the Vigil. Loghain wasn't sure he could even stand and there was no need to go anywhere for the moment. The plate of her armor dug into his armor, which in turn dug into him, but he continued to sit, just holding her and letting time pass. His thoughts were surprisingly calm, it was only his heart that was running a bit chaotically.

Finally she stirred, groaning as she struggled to sit up. He let his arms relax then, let her decide whether she would stay there or move away. She leaned against him and her voice was husky and raw from her tears.

"You must ache," she said and he grimaced. If she only knew, he thought wryly.

"Yes, I'm entirely too old to sit on the hard ground in armor," he said dryly and he felt the ghost of a smile cross her lips as she rested against him. She was silent again for some time and he was content to remain so as well.

"I am afraid," she finally admitted into the crook of his neck and he tightened his arms around her again.

"I want you to be, someone is intent on hurting you," he responded and he felt her shake her head. "A person intent on hurting you but not killing you is a dangerous thing and you ought to be scared."

"That is not it, Loghain. I am afraid to love you," she confessed in a whisper and he felt her tears begin again. "I do not want to lose another person I love," she added vehemently and her breath hitched on a sob. She tensed and he felt her wipe at her eyes, knew she was angry at what she considered a weakness. How had he come to know these things about her? How had she gotten through his defenses so quickly?

Loghain was silent, unsure what he could say to alleviate her fear. He had the same fear, if for different reasons. He continued to hold her loosely, trying to give her the freedom to make her own choices but Maker, it was hard. She shifted again and slid off his lap, leaning against the side of the stall, knees drawn up.

"I think the stable is not the most comfortable place for plate armor," she said and there was a hint of warmth in her voice, a hint of life returning to it.

"If it helps you, I'm afraid too," he found himself admitting, wishing he could recall the statement the minute it left his mouth. He fell silent, hoping she would not comment on it and to his relief, she did not, merely giving him a puzzled look.

Loghain leaned his head back, wondering if he was going to need help standing and that thought made him angry. He growled, reaching out to pull himself up. His armor creaked and he could only hope that it was just his armor and not his knees. He reached out a hand to her and she accepted it, stood up and into his arms in one fluid move and he bent his head, capturing her lips, felt the warmth of them against his own and knew that no matter where the future took him, this was where he wanted to be at the moment.

The others were waiting for them when he and Leonie entered the great hall. There was a certain proprietary pride in watching her straighten her shoulders and tilt her chin defiantly. She had an indomitable spirit and he could not help but admire it, remembering another warrior maiden with that same spirit. And for all that they had that same spirit, they were worlds apart and it hit him again how much he wanted Leonie.

"Whoever did this will pay, but we cannot allow it to deter us from our mission," she began, her voice still raw from her earlier tears. "There is much we need to accomplish in the coming weeks and we will all need to remain focused."

"Commander, I am sorry. I have the stable master's statement and Garavel is questioning the guards that were on duty last night," Varel said and his face wore his anguish. He loved her, Loghain realized. They all did. He looked at Anders and Nathaniel, both wearing identical expressions of distress. Even Sigrun looked pale, her tattoos stark against her skin as she looked at Leonie with admiration.

Leonie reached out a hand and tapped Varel lightly on the cheek. "You did not do this thing, Varel. I do not blame you," she comforted and then turned back to the business at hand.

"Sigrun is our newest recruit, Varel. I shall need you to prepare the Joining ritual immediately and have a room prepared for her, yes? In the same wing as the others, if possible."

Loghain stood back and watched as she issued orders and spoke to each of her Wardens, her face still bearing the signs of her tears. Finally she turned to him and her smile was soft, her eyes luminous. He felt his heart quicken like a young man's and he chided himself but it did no good. His heart refused to listen to him.

"I suggest you and I change while Varel is preparing the Joining, yes?"

He already had changed, he reflected as he made his way up the stairs to his room. And he wasn't sure what to make of it. Some burden, some thing within him that he had carried for longer than he could remember, had lifted, or perhaps only lightened for the moment and it was allowing him a clearer look at what he wanted. And what he wanted was the woman who was climbing the stairs by his side.

She was downstairs before him, wearing a soft blouse and skirt, her hair damp, her face scrubbed clean of her earlier tears. She smiled at him as he came to stand beside her. Nathaniel and Anders were teasing Sigrun about her stature and she was giving as good as she got. It was surprising to him how quickly she was becoming part of their group. Even more surprising was how much he actually enjoyed these people, this camaraderie that surrounded him and his fellow Wardens. He had held himself so far removed from others for so long that he had forgotten how good it felt to have this sense of belonging, of friendship. Only Maric, and Rowan for far too brief a time, had really commanded a place beside him, he realized. Even Anora, whom he loved deeply, had not really ever penetrated the walls he had built, and that was a sad thought. Leonie had accomplished it so easily, so quickly. He would never understand how.

Varel entered, carrying a chalice, his face set and serious. Leonie's face was still and set as well and he realized how nervous she was. She was afraid for Sigrun, afraid the young dwarf would not be able to take the poisonous blood into her and survive. It was with great effort that he did not reach out and take Leonie's hand in his. A hush fell over the room as Varel recited the oath and Leonie took the chalice from him, holding it out to Sigrun. And it was Leonie who caught Sigrun when the young woman fell.

"She lives," Leonie breathed and the relief in the room was palpable.

Varel and Nathaniel carried Sigrun up to her new quarters and Leonie gave a weak chuckle. "It is the one thing I hate about the Wardens," she admitted ruefully.

"Well I don't know why, Lion. We all look so attractive, eyes rolling back in our heads, foaming at the mouth and collapsing like a drunken sailor," Anders drawled, his grin bright with relief.

Loghain smirked at that image, but there was a certain relief in him as well, more for Leonie's sake. He didn't think she needed any more losses. She glanced at him and smiled again.

"I am going to inform Terrill that she will need to prepare extra food now, and also see if I can hurry dinner along. Black rabbit stew, if I can manage it," she added as she departed.

"Ewww, tell me she was joking," Anders exclaimed, his face twisting in disgust. Loghain shrugged.

"She's a woman, who can tell?" Loghain asked and Anders chuckled.

"Good point."

This all felt so different, so new that a part of him wanted to reclaim his aloof arrogance, hold himself away and above these people. He felt unsure and it was not a feeling he enjoyed. But then Leonie returned, holding a tray of goblets and his forgot to feel unsure or uncomfortable because she was near and smiling up at him with all the confidence of a queen.

"We shall eat as soon as Varel and Nathaniel return, yes? I believe Sigrun will be unconscious for some time yet."

He saw, as he watched her, that she was trying very hard to keep the mood light as they all drank their wine and waited for dinner. But, when she thought no one was looking, she lowered her guard and he saw the hurt and the anger simmering under the surface. He placed himself at her side when they sat down to dinner a few minutes later.

"I think, perhaps, before we leave for the Blackmarsh, we should end the Grand Game. Nathaniel, do you think Esmerelle is the leader of this conspiracy?"

"Yes, but she hasn't confessed it, Lion. Won't be easy to get her to either. She is tough," Nathaniel said, reaching for another helping of potatoes.

Loghain bristled. He didn't think it was advisable to poke the hornet's nest at the moment. "If you aren't here, they can't very well kill you," he said reasonably.

"I want it finished, Loghain. I want to fight one or two enemies at a time, not three or four nameless, faceless things," she argued and he recognized the stubborn set of her jaw. He felt his anger gathering.

"You would put yourself out there again? You have a death wish I can't understand," he bit out and was only vaguely aware of the look Anders shot him.

"I have no death wish. I am simply tired of being manipulated and frightened. How can you possibly misunderstand that?" she asked on a rising note.

"Leonie's right, Loghain. We need to end this now," Nathaniel interjected. Loghain gave him a frosty glare.

"You realize," Loghain began, his voice flinty, "that whoever killed Vixen is not part of the conspiracy to kill her?"

"Of course we all realize it, Loghain. I do not believe any of us are quite as foolish as you seem to think," Leonie answered and her voice was heated, her anger sparking.

Loghain took a deep breath. Was he arguing out of habit? Because he was so concerned for her he wasn't able to see rationally? Or was he right? He reached for his wine and took a long pull before he replied. No, she was right. They needed to start eliminating enemies. It was the sensible thing to do and it galled him to admit it. He was gritting his teeth, angry at himself for letting emotion rule common sense. He was not used to it and he didn't care for it.

"Very well," he said, and even he heard how ungracious he sounded. He took another pull of his wine.

"Thank you. I want everyone in my office tomorrow morning after breakfast and we will decide how to proceed," Leonie said, giving him a look he couldn't read. Was she concerned? Surprised? Disappointed that he had capitulated so readily? No more so than he was, he thought grimly.

"Now, if you will excuse me, I want to check on Sigrun," Leonie said quietly and stood up, walking quickly out of the room.

Silence fell, as if she had taken the ability to talk with her and Loghain found himself in his room several minutes later.

He was nervous. More than nervous and that angered him too. He had never felt so out of control of his own emotions and thoughts. She was responsible and he scrubbed his face with his hands in frustration. He could try to blame her for these feelings but even he no longer believed it. Should he go and find her? Should he wait for her here? He cursed, low and long. Damn her and damn him too.

He picked up a pauldron and his cleaning kit, attacking the soiled silverite with a vengeance. He was polishing the last piece of his armor when he heard the soft rapping of knuckles on wood. His heart picked up speed and he tossed the rag away, the greave clanking loudly on the floor as he carelessly dropped it.

Leonie stood there, smiling at him, wearing her blue wrapper and, he realized with a flash of heat in his loins, nothing under it. She stepped into the room and stared up at him, her blue eyes wide and candid.

Tired of thinking, he gathered her into his arms and found her lips, feeling their softness as his hands ran along the soft curve of her waist and up, his thumbs brushing across the material covering her breasts. He felt the sharp intake of her breath as his tongue swept into her mouth and that sound inflamed him, he could taste the sweetness of her breath, wine scented, against his mouth, and he wanted more. Her hands, restless and hot, urgently ran along his shoulders and down until he felt them slide under his shirt and play against his skin and he couldn't remember the last time someone had touched him like that. Or if anyone ever had with such abandon. Her fingers were exploring him, trailing along his flesh like tiny, hot sparks and he groaned into her mouth, pulling her flush. His lips moved to that perfect line of her jaw he admired, kissing along it, nipping at it and he felt a need deep inside him that steadily drove his control further from his grasp.

They fell against the door with a soft thud and she smiled as his cheeks reddened. "Loghain," she whispered with such longing that he felt it ripple through his bone and marrow and lodge in his heart and she was pulling his head down to hers again in a kiss that sent his mind spinning away from him. Somehow, and he didn't remember how, his shirt fell to the floor and her fingers were scraping along his skin, pulling gently at the laces of his trousers and then her lips followed her fingers and his self restraint tattered, shredded, was gone completely. He pulled at the ties holding her wrapper closed, exposing her body to his willing mouth. His trousers slid down and he felt her hand, firm and caressing along his length and his need exploded in his blood. He pushed his smalls down and growled as she bit along his neck. Maker, he needed to feel her now, his mind screamed.

He wrapped one of her long legs around his waist and her mouth came to his again, hot and demanding and he gave it to her willingly. She was a breathless bundle of want in his arms and as his mouth found the sweet curve of her neck, he thrust into her and she cried out his name, urging him on with fingers that plucked at his implacable resolve, shattering it, as his growls turned into lusty, low cries of need. She met him thrust for thrust, her mouth never leaving his skin, biting and nipping and sucking and he was crying out, his world crystallizing and then shattering around him. He shuddered several times and rested his head in that same sweet curve of her neck, trying to catch his breath as he felt the wildly beating pulse there. He kissed it softly.

Slowly he came back to himself, realized how rough he had been, how selfishly he had taken, as he gently lowered her leg and she leaned against the door, her own breath still ragged. He was disgusted with himself. She deserved better treatment than his mindlessly battering at her like a rutting animal.

He looked at her, saw her hair, damp and curling around her face, saw that her eyes were still heavy lidded and her swollen lips were upturned in a small smile.

"I…" he began, not knowing what to say, what he should say, but she put her fingers against his lips, stopping him.

"If you are in any way sorry for what just happened, I do wish to know," she said quietly, moving her fingers away.

Loghain's emotions were in turmoil, a state he did not understand but acknowledged was more and more the case in her company and he wasn't even sure he minded all that much anymore. He was not nearly as angry by it as he should be. Maybe she was right, maybe love wasn't something to strategize or analyze. And that thought took the last of his strength away. He made his way to his bed and sank onto it wearily.

Was that what he felt for her? Love? Or was it just an old man's foolish lust and need to feel young again? He was a joke, a disgusting and pathetic joke and yet, here she was in his room, coming to sit beside him, taking his hand in hers and squeezing it gently.

The silence stretched between them as she continued to hold his hand, leaning against his shoulder. He didn't know what to say, was afraid to break the spell that had woven around them, afraid if he did he would wake up from a dream. He closed his eyes and waited to find words that would make sense of it all.

"I will not ask anything more from you then you are willing to give, Loghain Mac Tir," she promised, her voice soft and lilting.

"Won't you? That's an extraordinary promise for you to make," he muttered thickly and fell silent against a swirl of emotions that bombarded him. He wanted her to ask for more. He was terrified she would. He wanted her again, the surge of heat in his loins spreading outward. He was afraid to take her again, afraid to lose himself in her heat. He was falling, could feel it, and was powerless to stop it.

"I say only this, Loghain. Let your heart dictate to you. We both have duties that we are honor bound to fulfill but that does not have to define us, yes?"

"Does it not? I have spent the better part of my life in service to Ferelden, to duty. There has never been time left over to listen to my heart or anything else, for that matter," he said, bitterness oozing from his words like blood from a mortal wound.

"Because there was not time to listen or because you would not allow it to speak?" she challenged quietly.

"What does it matter? The result was the same," he growled and made to move away. He was not going to revisit every chance at love he had ever thrown away. Maker knew there had been damned few. His bitterness caught at the edges of his thoughts again, snagging at them, painful and sharp.

"I think perhaps it is easier for you to assume this angry, mocking shell than to open yourself up to rejection and hurt. I will try never to do either, Loghain, but if that does not suffice, tell me now and I will leave. I have no wish to make it more difficult for you than you make it for yourself," Leonie said sincerely and stood up.

Loghain growled, standing up beside her. "Impetuousness of youth," he muttered and pulled her into his arms, finding her lips in a searing kiss.

"Stay," he found himself whispering against her ear and felt her nod.

Was it really that simple?

He took his time then to learn her body, to learn what gave her pleasure. She was lean and muscled, her breasts pert, tipped with blushing pink and she purred when he took a nipple into his mouth and teased it. Her skin was soft and supple, both silvered and pink scars adding depth to its texture. And when he entered her, he watched as her eyes slid closed and her mouth uttered moans and gasps. He bent over her, biting the tender flesh of her neck and she gripped his shoulders, shivering in delight when he trailed along her collar bone and then up along the slender column of her neck. Her hands wound into his hair and scratched at his scalp, making his thrusts harder and faster as he felt the heat of his release racing toward him. She wrapped her legs around him, drawing him deeper with each frenzied thrust and her inner muscles, warm and wet, tightened around him as she cried out in her own release, bringing him with her and he flew right off the edge into her waiting arms.

In the predawn he woke to feel her kiss on his lips and he responded, pulling her close.

"You should probably go before everyone wakes," he rumbled, his voice thick with sleep.

"Are you afraid I will dishonor your name if I stay?" she teased, before pulling at his lower lip gently with her teeth. He felt her hands, trailing light fingers along his chest and down, skirting with teasing strokes around his hard length and he growled.

"Shall I still leave?" she asked with a grin and he felt himself smirking.

"Later," he murmured, capturing her lips.