A/N: I just want to thank all of you who have followed Duncan and Leonie through all their adventures. Your encouragement and support for my first fanfic have helped shape the story as well as given me a great deal of joy.
A short epilogue will follow, hopefully tomorrow, and Leonie's story will continue in a sequel, "The Heart of the Lion" as she becomes the Warden Commander of the Grey of Ferelden.
In These Dwindling Hours
Jader, 4 months before Ostagar
He knew he shouldn't, he had so many tasks at hand and something was stirring in the Deep Roads. He could feel it in the taint of his blood. It was more than just the Calling, something ominous. He should be in Ferelden pounding on Cailan's desk demanding more Wardens. But a planned trip to Orzammar led him to write to Leonie and asked her to meet him in Jader for a short visit.
Of course she was there before him and as soon as he entered the gates, he saw her, Riordan next to her, both smiling in welcome. If he closed his eyes, he could see her, a young girl, eyes too big for her face, sitting in the tree, waiting for him. A young woman, demanding he love her, as if he could help himself from doing so. His Lion. His home. His heart.
As soon as he dismounted, she was there, arms wrapping around him, her smile lively.
"Hello, my Rivaini pirate," she murmured, bringing her lips to his. He had to come, had to see her, had missed her so sharply during the past few months that it had robbed him of sleep. And now, here he was finally holding his beloved Lion, because some part of him that he didn't want to acknowledge knew their time together could be measured in these dwindling hours now stretched before them.
They were down in the meadow and his head was in her lap as she stroked his brow, the wind ruffling her long hair. He closed his eyes against the guilt that seemed more and more to eat away at him. He should have let her go, let her find a younger man, a happier life than the moments they had been forced to steal over the years because of duty. It seemed so inadequate, she deserved so much more.
Her fingers traveled from his brow down to his cheek and then he felt her fingers teasing at his neck. He reached up and captured her hand and brought it to his lips. He should have done a great many things. What he had done was grab at his own happiness and he knew her well enough to know she had been every bit as happy. Still, he felt as though he had robbed her of her youth and now he would have to tell her the truth. His Calling was coming and the primal urges of his tainted blood were getting harder to control. He placed her hand on his chest, over his heart and held it there, hoping she could feel all the love that resided there.
They had three days together before his conscience got the better of him and he knew he should return to Ferelden.
"You are leaving?" Leonie asked and the words, flavored by anguish barely held in check, snagged at his resolve, threatening to unravel it.
She closed her eyes, damming the tears building behind her lids. He saw her lips tremble with the effort to keep her tears from falling and he was grateful for the effort because his own grief was bubbling up inside him and he turned away for a moment to regain control of his own emotions, a task that seemed increasingly difficult of late as the taint darkened in his veins.
When he turned back to her, he studied her, his brown eyes warm and loving and full of regret. She was everything he had ever wanted. She was loving and gracious and stronger than he was in so many ways. She was a lion. And for reasons only the Maker could guess at, she loved him with a depth and devotion that had carried him through the long nights away from her, when duty and guilt and loneliness pulled at his sleep. How could he leave her? In three long strides he reached her, arms enveloping her.
"Don't cry," he admonished roughly, unsure if he was commanding her or himself as he tucked her head under his chin. His arms tightened as he breathed her in, memorizing the unique scent that was hers alone; roses and vanilla, a touch of muskiness that smelled of desire. He dropped a kiss on the top of her head, enjoying the silky strands of her dark hair tickling his nose. For a moment he wasn't sure he had the strength to leave. It would be so easy to lose himself here, to forget duty and just spend his remaining time with her. What little there was left of it.
His time was coming to an end so much quicker than he had wanted. He felt it nipping at his heels like a rabid wolf, sharp and stinging and vicious. In a different life, he would be in his prime, married to this wondrous creature in his arms, raising strapping sons and beautiful daughters. But even as those thoughts ran through him, he knew that in a different life he would never have met her at all. It is the very thing killing him that had brought them together in the first place.
"One more day, my love. That is all I ask. And then I shall send you on your way with a smile and a wave and no demands at all," she whispered into his shirt, her voice husky with her unshed tears, her unspoken fears. She suspected. He could feel it in the strength of her hands, digging into his shoulders as she held him fiercely to her.
He raised her chin, meeting her eyes and smiled. He had never been able to deny her. She so seldom asked anything of him that this request seemed easy to fulfill. His lips touched hers, soft and searching but she opened her mouth, her tongue clashing with his, demanding more. The want, the need for her stirred in him, deep and primitive. His hands found the curve of her waist and he lifted her up into his arms and moved to the bed. She wrapped her legs around him, hands trailing along his chest, pulling at the leather ties of his shirt. And still their mouths were melded, their need communicated through the heat of their tongues, the desperation of their hands until he was not sure he would last long enough to enter her.
He heard her purr as his hand slid under her skirt and up her leg, caressing the smooth skin of her inner thigh and his own growl answered her as she bit his lower lip. She whisked away his shirt and ran her hands along the muscles and scars of his torso and chest and though they had been together many times, it always felt like the first time. But now it occurred to him, as he bent to nip at her neck, this was their last time and for a moment he was sure he would be the one to cry but her lips were following her hands and he was lost once again in the need for her.
Neither of them slept that night, holding onto each other and whispering words of love and hope, even when hope was already dying, killed by the same taint that was now killing him.
In the morning, he again bent to the task of packing. She was in bed, head propped up on her hand, blue eyes wide and watching, as if memorizing every line and curve and shadow of him. He smiled over his shoulder at her as he stuffed his things into his pack and then his hands stilled, his breath caught, his heart slowed. She was so achingly beautiful, his Lion of Orlais. So breathtakingly lovely that he felt the overwhelming desire to take her again, just grab her and sink into her. But he couldn't, knowing if he did he truly wouldn't be able to leave at all. He bent his head quickly to his task, blinking back the tears.
"You will let me know when you go to Orzammar, yes? I can be there in a matter of days and I would see you off, my love."
He stared at her, surprised that she knew, that she had the courage to tell him she knew. But he shouldn't be surprised, he realized. In many ways she knew his thoughts better than he did. "I won't ask that of you," he said gruffly.
"But you are not asking me, I am telling you," she replied firmly, in the voice that commanded a hundred men to obey her without question. He smiled and the constriction in his chest lessened.
"That's my fierce Lion."
"Do you think it is that close?" she asked and her voice was quiet and even, devoid of the emotions that might give him even a twinge of guilt. She loved him enough to make this goodbye easier and he loved her all the more for it.
"Months, I think. Maybe seven or eight if I'm lucky, and if these darkspawn attacks are just raids. If they aren't…" he trailed off. They understood what that would mean.
"Ah. A lovely time of year for travel then. The colors in the mountains should be quite beautiful, yes?"
"And if I told you not to come?" he asked wryly, dark eyebrow quirked, knowing the answer. She was nothing if not tenaciously stubborn.
"I would ignore it, of course," she replied with a sparkling laugh. He nodded with a chuckle.
All too soon he was packed and they stood in the circle of each other's arms. "You know, Duncan, that I have loved you my whole life. And I will love you to the end of my days."
"Don't let your love for me blind you to others. I wouldn't want that," he replied sternly, but there was a small part of him that was glad to hear those words, to know that he meant so much to her, as she was his touchstone, always there for him, helping him, loving him, making him stronger. He would like to think he had done the same for her.
"Ha! You would not have wanted me at all had I not forced myself upon you. What you want is not necessarily what I am willing to give," she replied with a laugh that trembled ever so slightly.
Duncan stared down into her eyes, into her soul, and he smiled. "You are entirely too stubborn for you own good. I have been a bad influence, I see," he remarked dryly.
"Ah, so you say, but I have to disagree. You have been the best possible influence, my Rivaini pirate."
He bent and dropped a kiss, soft and lingering, on her lips. "I'll write and let you know what I find in Ostagar."
"Know that the Grey Wardens of Val Royeaux stand with their brothers of Ferelden and will be there should you need us," she replied formally.
She reached behind her and unclasped her pendent, the silverite lion with sapphire eyes that hung on a thick silverite chain. She stood on tip toes and, stretching up to him, fastened it around his neck.
"Now go, my love. And know that I am with you always," she said and her voice was strong, filled with love, unmarred by sorrow or fear or anger.
"And I with you," he replied and with another long kiss, he walked away.
He didn't turn around as he strode towards the stables and his horse. He knew that she stood in the doorway, watching him and loving him, dry eyed because she had promised she wouldn't cry and she always kept her promises. He would not allow himself to turn around and let her see his own tears that were so ready to fall they trembled on his lashes.
As he rode out of the courtyard, he reached up one hand to clasp the pendent, knowing it would help give him strength in the darkness to come.
A letter, sent from Lothering 3 days before Ostagar
My own sweet Lion,
I have come from the Circle of Magi with a new recruit, a powerful mage who will be a fine addition to the Wardens. Phindar Surana is strong and loyal and will make an excellent Second in time. I say this because I have written to the First Warden recommending that you be made the Warden Commander of the Grey of Ferelden. I can think of no other more qualified for the job and knowing the Grey of Ferelden will be in your hands eases my mind.
You're probably wondering why I don't recommend Alistair as your Second and the answer is not simple. His upbringing never gave him any reason to believe in himself, to understand himself. He hides this insecurity, all of his feelings really, behind a wall of jokes and good humor. I recognize that in him and hope that we have enough time together that he will grow into the man I believe him to be. In time, he will be a great leader, but now is not that time. I don't regret conscripting him at all, even though Fiona still hasn't forgiven me. A life as a lyrium addicted templar was not what Maric would have wanted and in time I hope that Fiona understands it as well.
No doubt you are having dreams of the Archdemon so you know that this is truly a Blight. You also know that as the most senior Warden in Ferelden it is my duty to strike the killing blow. It is a duty I will not foreswear, Lion. My Calling is so close it hardly matters whether I kill the Archdemon tomorrow or go on my Calling in a month. I am not afraid of this, Leo, and I don't want you to be either. We both know the true measure of being a Grey Warden.
I will be meeting with Cailan as soon as I arrive back in Ostagar, in two day's time. He is impetuous and naïve but he understands the importance of the Wardens. If only Loghain did. This is one time I almost agree with you that the secret of why a Grey Warden is needed to kill the Archdemon should not be a secret to those who govern. Loghain would not be so dismissive if he knew.
Hopefully you have mustered the troops by now. Cailan sent a request to Celene and unless he does something incredibly reckless, you will be here to fight at my side. While that gives me more comfort than you can know, I can't rely on that happening, as you and I both know that nothing is certain in war; that battles never go according to plan.
I can't begin to express how much joy you have brought me, my wonderful Lion. That you could love me as I love you has been the greatest gift I have ever received, one I never expected. In my heart we are back at Jader under that oak tree down in the meadow. That's where I will be waiting for you, Lion. Until then, be strong and live as you are meant to, not in the shadow of grief and regret. Mourn me if you must, but not forever. You have so much love to give. Let others experience it. It is all I ask of you.
I will always remain your most devoted and loving,
Duncan