In These Dwindling Hours

His fingers were digging painfully into the flesh of her upper arm as he dragged her to their quarters. She didn't fault him for his anger, he was frightened and he didn't want to lose her. She understood that. Still, his fingers were beginning to hurt her.

"Loghain, loosen your grip immediately. I do not wish to lose my control," she hissed as they hurried along the corridor. He released her so quickly she stumbled and only caught herself by grabbing his shirt.

The door shut behind them with a resounding bang. "I can't believe you would even suggest such a thing," he began, his voice vibrating with anger. "Are you completely insane?"

Leonie smiled unhappily. "Not yet, no," she replied carefully.

"An army of darkspawn at your disposal. I can see why you would jump at the chance," he sniped sarcastically as if she hadn't spoken.

"I cannot talk to you when you are on the rampage, Loghain. You must sit and talk about this reasonably, yes?"

"Reasonably? One does not reason with a madwoman, Leonie. One locks her up," he growled furiously.

"Yes, well, that would be a very unwise move, Loghain. I hear I am quite vicious when provoked."

"That's not funny. That's not even remotely funny. It only lends credence to my theory that you're a madwoman."

"If you had been able to overthrow the Orlesian occupation without another soul being killed, would you have done it even if it meant sacrificing yourself?"

"That isn't the issue Leonie. Not one of those men who went through the transformation kept their sanity. In fact, two Blights were started by those Wardens. What makes you think you wouldn't start the sixth?"

Leonie collapsed in a chair at the thought. "I – I would not do that," she protested weakly, her arguments falling away from her like petals on a dying flower.

"You think that now but how can you possibly know what, if anything, you'd think as a darkspawn?" he snarled.

He stared at her, his eyes icy. She tried to look away from the intensity of his gaze and could not. She was just as frightened as he was, just as angry at fate. She gave him a tremulous smile. "I love you, Loghain. Maker, I love you more than I can even express," she whispered brokenly. His face softened, his expression somehow the saddest thing Leonie had ever seen.

"You are a lion, we all know that. You don't have to prove anything," he said quietly. "You don't have anything to feel guilty about. Don't do this, Leonie. Don't even consider doing it."

She was not expecting the tender plea in his voice. She was not expecting it to stab into her and make her cry. But she was sobbing softly. Her voice was drowned by her tears. When she finally had them under control, she searched for her voice.

"I have spent my life fighting the darkspawn, believing in the Grey Warden motto and core beliefs, in the brotherhood of the Grey. I was honored to be a member of such an organization and proud to be a commander. Now I discover just how despicable they are, how wrong I have been, how many lives I have destroyed with my naivety. I do not know how to live with that," she whispered.

Loghain pulled her out of her chair and into his arms. "One day at a time, Leonie. That's how you live with it," he said roughly. "One day at a time."

The catch in his voice, the ragged edge of unrelieved pain told Leonie that he was speaking from his own past and she tightened her arms around him. The room darkened as shadows crept out of the corners and began to wrap around them. Still they stood in their room, in each other's arms, each of them leaving unspoken the knowledge that their time together could be measured in the dwindling hours before them. Hope was receding into the bleakness that surrounded them. They skipped dinner and curled up in bed together, neither speaking. Leonie dozed off, listening to the steady beat of Loghain's heart.

Loghain bent and kissed her neck, a string of warm little kisses that made her stomach flutter and her heart skip a beat. Her eyes opened and she stared into his wintry blue eyes. "And now it is you who molests sleeping people," she said with a warm smile.

"You aren't asleep now," he murmured against her skin and her stomach fluttered again, a warmth spreading through her, a languid flush of warmth that settled low in her.

Leonie closed her eyes and breathed deeply, feigning a snore. Loghain nipped at her neck. "Irrepressible child," he complained.

"Curmudgeon," she tossed back at him but when he made to move away, she captured him with her arms and legs, pulling him closer.

"Now that I am awake, I think perhaps you should continue," she said in a voice that was husky with sleep and passion.

"And have you snore right in the middle of things? No thank you, Mistress Mac Tir," he replied, rolling them over.

She was laughing softly. In these moments they were just a newly wedded couple delighting in each other's playful company. This was the Loghain that so few ever saw and she loved him in this rare whimsical, teasing mood. "Perhaps if I show you that I am serious?" she asked, waggling her brows in perfect imitation of Anders.

Loghain's soft chuckle ruffled her hair as she bent to drop light kisses on his jaw. She let her tongue tease at his ear and heard his hitch of breath, felt his hands tighten on her waist. "Oh, you are not so immune to my charms as you would have me think," she remarked lightly, blowing a gentle breath into his ear. He let out a low growl.

"Charms? Which charms would those be?" he asked, arching his brow.

Leonie rolled off him and turned her back on him. "None that you shall have a chance to discover," she huffed.

She felt him turn on his side and run a hand along the curve of her hip, lingering at her waist before skimming up to cup a breast. Her breath came out in a gasping sigh. "Oh, those charms," he said and bent his lips to tickle at her neck.

She rolled back over, laughing. Her hand came up to trace the curves and sharp planes of his face, a finger running down the length of his nose. "I find, husband, that I am suddenly not so terribly tired," she said, opening herself to him in invitation.

"Indeed, wife? How fortuitous for us both," he replied and now his voice was husky as his hands began a thorough examination of her charms. Much later, they fell asleep in each other's arms.


They all seemed to know her time with them was running out. Her Wardens, her comrades, her friends reminded her to hold on. There were no words of farewell, no admonishments to continue fighting, only a hope that permeated the air like smoke, clinging to them all. Leonie was touched by their stoic acceptance that she would continue to fight until she drew her last breath.

Wandering the hallways of the Vigil, she couldn't help but remember how many times she had gotten lost, how frequently Varel or Nathaniel had come to her rescue and pointed her in the right direction. She found Varel in his office a few minutes later.

"If you've come to say good-bye or something equally as foolish, Lady Leonie, I won't listen," Varel said, glancing up from his desk.

"I have come to see you because I am bored. Everyone thinks because I am turning into a darkspawn that I should rest in a bed. My mind is eating me alive from the inside out," she admitted frankly, smiling at him. "If you tell me to do the same I shall fire you as seneschal."

Varel's smile, a twitch of lips and a hint of humor in his eyes, came and went. "I believe that Warden Commander Loghain might argue with your right to fire me, but I see your point. I have the crop projections to review and also the annual tithes to tally. Take your pick."

She chose the tithes. The thought of reading about crop projections on crops she would not see depressed her. She took the tithing list to her desk and began to tally them. Even with the destruction of some farmland, the tithes pledged to the Wardens were surprisingly high. They would be able to not only complete the repairs to the Vigil but also outfit the growing number of support troops, the Silver Order as Ser Alec referred to the group.

Bent over the figures, she stopped, her quill dropping a blotch of ink on her tally sheet. A commotion in the hallway and then Loghain's voice issuing sharp commands had her on her feet and moving to the source of the noise.

An increasingly rare darkspawn incursion near Eddelbrek's farm, according to the messenger, and the Wardens needed to hurry. "Please, Loghain, I would like to go," Leonie was surprised to hear herself say. The noise in the hallway stopped, an unnatural hush falling over the Wardens.

Loghain turned to look at her and she smiled serenely at him. "Nathaniel is more than capable of leading this mission," he replied curtly, turning back in a dismissive manner that made Leonie's jaw clamp down on words best left unspoken.

When the Wardens left to armor up, Leonie followed Loghain into his office. He leaned against the mantle, waiting for her to speak, his brow lifted in anticipation of a fight.

"I think it is important that Fiona witness this, both what the darkspawn have done and what we must do. She needs to remember what being a Warden in the field is like."

"And this can only be accomplished with you leading the charge?" he asked, sardonic and chilly.

"No, but I ask you this, Loghain Mac Tir. You are a warrior. Were you facing your death, would you lay about like a timid old woman waiting for it or would you wish to fight your sworn enemy for as long as you were able?" she challenged quietly, her chin tilted slightly.

Loghain took her arm in a firm grip and propelled her out of his office. Her heart fell. While she couldn't blame him, she was disappointed that her appeal seemed to have fallen on deaf ears.

"So now you will lock me in our room so I cannot sneak out?" she asked, aware of how mocking her voice was but unwilling to apologize.

"No, now we help each other into our armor," he replied curtly, before issuing new orders to Varel.

Ten minutes later Loghain, Travis, Leonie and a very unhappy Fiona departed the Vigil on horseback.

"If you feel even a tickle of anger you are to let Travis know immediately, Leonie," he instructed as they neared Eddelbrek's.

Leonie surveyed the smoky fires, the broken, dead bodies and nodded. "Of course, Commander."

Dismounting, they made their way toward the sounds of battle. "I want you to remember who it is we fight, Fiona, and why. I want you to see what your arrogance and ignorance have cost these people," Leonie said to the older mage.

Fiona's face was pale and pinched and her eyes were grim and accusing. "You believe that living in the Anderfels has prevented me from seeing what the enemy is? Everything I have done has been to stop the darkspawn."

"No, everything you have done caused the fifth Blight and sitting in your little tower has made you forget that these are real people and real darkspawn, not some hypothetical extracts of either."

Leonie pulled her sword and dagger out as Loghain adjusted his shield. With a nod, he moved forward and Leonie stayed by his side, her heart pumping, blood surging. They found the group of darkspawn, fifteen of them, fighting a small group of ill-equipped farmers. They both knew, without a word spoken between them, who had to die first.

With a taunting battle cry, Loghain charged in and Leonie raised her sword, swinging it in a shallow arc and cleanly decapitating a genlock. The taint sizzled along her nerves, sang in her blood as they waded into the fight. The emissary, distracted by Loghain, never saw Leonie's dagger as it pierced through the vile and corrupted skin of its neck. It fell lifeless to the ground.

"No ogres, how disappointed you must be," Loghain yelled above the roar of the battle. Leonie's laughter rose to float in the air, mingling with the growling and snarling darkspawn.

Travis, standing back and using his bow, protected Fiona, who was busy casting lightning bolts at the enemies. Leonie wanted to turn and look at the mage, to see if she still seemed remote and removed from humanity of if she was beginning to come out of her twenty year stupor, but the enemy was all Leonie had time to focus on.

The air assailed Leonie's nose, burning her nostrils, heavy with the stench of burned flesh and rotted skin. Her eyes watered and her throat felt scorched but she continued, in perfect unity with Loghain, until the last darkspawn fell.

They looked for survivors and found three young children, huddled behind a small outbuilding, holding on to their dead mother and crying. Leonie knelt down and whispered what comfort she could and asked them if they had relatives nearby. Without turning around, Leonie knew that Fiona was watching her.

"Aunt Amaryllis," the oldest child said, her soot stained face streaked with the tracks of her tears.

"Your father? Where is he, child?"

"Dead, died in the Blight, ya ken."

"Then we'll take you to your aunt, yes? But we must first make sure your mother is sent off properly so she can be with your father. I am Leonie. What is your name?"

"Rowan, on account of her being the Warrior Queen, ya ken."

"Come, Rowan, help me find a nice place for your mother's pyre."

It was a somber, silent ride back to the Vigil and once Leonie had found Amaryllis and left the children in her care, she went to find Fiona, not bothering to clean the grime of battle from her.

Fiona was in her room, faced scrubbed and as grey as ash. Leonie took a deep breath, willing her anger away before she spoke, her voice low and cold.

"Now you see what we fight and why we must. You see there is no way to control a mindless beast. You see what your negligence has unleashed. We cannot cure them; we cannot control them for all that we created them.

"The Blight devastated not only the land, but the people. Orphanages overflow, dead still lie rotting in fields that are now tainted and may always be tainted. Whole families no longer exist. Entire villages are burnt husks and no longer habitable.

"You knew that others went mad during the transformation, you knew that Svanar was mad yet you persisted in your arrogance that you knew best. You still believe I will somehow be different than the others. I will not. The darkspawn will hate for as long as they exist and no-one will ever change that.

"I tell you now, Fiona, I will kill myself before I allow myself to be transformed. Would that I had the hate within me to kill you as well."

Turning on her heel, Leonie left. As she walked away, she heard a loud sob, followed by the sound of a woman weeping.

Tired, hope flagging, Leonie wanted to have a quiet dinner with Loghain in their quarters but he insisted that they join the other Wardens. He laced her gown up and dropped a kiss on the nape of her neck.

"You are avoiding your mother," he accused quietly.

"I do not know what to say to her, I do not know how to explain that not only did she have to see papa dying, now she must witness her daughter's death as well," Leonie confessed, head bowed, fingers twisting anxiously.

"She knows that, Leonie, but she is who you inherited your strength from. Even I can see that. Talk to her, spend time with her while you have the chance," he said and there was that sorrow, that pain that ran so deep in him. She knew he was remembering his own mother and her heart went out to him.

Leonie turned in his arms, reaching out to smooth the furrows between his brows. "I will do as you say, Loghain. And if I do not…" Leonie trailed off and cleared her throat. "Remember that she is there for you as well."

"Now, let's go eat before you stomach complains any louder," Loghain said, taking her hand and looping it through is arm.

She should have known. She stood in the doorway of the dining hall and felt tears burn at the back of her throat. Her Wardens, dressed in their finest, were standing and cheering her. Her mother, standing among them, was smiling. A Wardens only dinner and Aura, still tired from giving birth, made a brief appearance with a sleeping Mirabelle.

"Come for a visit tomorrow, Lion. We haven't had a good visit in ages," Aura invited and with another smile and wave, she went back to her quarters.

"A toast! To the Lion of Orlais!" Sigrun cried, holding her goblet high.

She was laughing as she made her way to the table. She sat between her mother and Loghain. The meal and the company were splendid and laughter was the order of the night. Stories were exchanged, exploits rehashed and toasts were frequent.

Nathaniel sang for them, a sweet ballad and then a folk song. Leonie was clapping and keeping time to the music with her foot tapping merrily. When he finished the folk song, he looked at her, a wicked grin gracing his austere face, lighting it from within.

"This next song is dedicated to our favorite Lion," he said and with a flourish and a bow, he cleared his throat. The other Wardens rose as one, save Loghain, who remained seated by her side. To her surprise and embarrassment, they all began to sing…

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!

Leonie, blushing and laughing, leaned against her husband. It was another of those rare and perfect moments in her life. It restored her hope.

That night, Svanar came to her in her dreams…

"You can't really do anything, Leonie. I thought I could. I thought together we could, but it isn't possible. Your soul, it dies when you transform, it twists and become something so dark and misshapen it isn't even a soul any longer."

She was standing in the Deep Roads, somewhere she wasn't familiar with. There was no fear in her as she looked at his ravaged face that had once been human and then darkspawn and was now neither. She held out a hand to him and he took it in his claw. She smiled at him.

"You saved my life once and I didn't ever thank you," she told him, unafraid of his sibilant voice and crooked, elongated body.

"You saved me as well. I didn't expect that death would free me," he replied as they walked along the carved stone path. He was walking with purpose, as if he knew where he was going and she was content to walk beside him. She knew it was a dream, knew he could not hurt her, knew he had been a victim of fate just as she had been.

"Did you know what was happening to you?" she asked him as they continued on. The way was lit by torches that flickered on as they approached. She should be frightened by that but she was still oddly calm.

"Not at first. By the time I did, well, it was too late, wasn't it? But you can fight it. You were ever stronger than I," he told her.

She realized, as they continued on, that he was not walking, he was gliding. She felt a stirring of unease. "I tried to read your journals, Svanar, but I could not understand them. Can you explain them to me?" she asked to take her mind off her growing discomfort.

"The ravings of a madman, Lion, nothing more."

"Is there nothing you can say that will help?" she asked impatiently. His laugh, brittle and distorted, bounced off the walls of the Deep Roads and skittered into the dark. She began to feel afraid. It was not the laugh of a sane person.

"Ah, there it is, that fear that I will harm you," Svanar said, pausing to shake his head. "I can't harm you, Leonie. I don't even exist anymore, just an echo, a reflection of a remembered thought," he said. "I never meant to harm you at all, I thought I could help change the world. Isn't that what we all want?"

He stopped again and she recognized where they were, under Vigil's Keep near the barrier doors. "We won't meet again, Leonie. Be strong and continue to fight. The answer is within your blood. It is always the blood," he instructed and with a broken, corrupted smile, he faded from view…

Leonie woke with a start and quietly rose. Loghain, looking peaceful and oddly vulnerable, lay sleeping with his arm flung behind his head. She wanted to reach down and stroke his brow, to tell him how full he made her heart but she let him sleep. Instead, she gathered her clothes and quietly left the bedroom, closing the door with a soft click.

Padding on bare feet to the window in their sitting room, she pushed back the curtain. Dawn, a pink rose blooming in the east, promised a beautiful day. She dressed quickly and went up to the third floor, to the laboratory. Jarren was there, bent over his notes and she cleared her throat, announcing her arrival.

"Good morning, Lion. I'm surprised to see you this early," Jarren said, distracted by whatever he was working on.

"Do not let me disturb you, Jarren. I wish only to see Svanar's journals."

The blood is the key. The key to what? Was it literally the key to deciphering his words? Could it be that simple? "Jarren, have you a small knife?"

Wordlessly, he slid off his stool and went to a small cupboard. Extracting a small, lethally sharp instrument, he handed it to her, his face wearing a mask of curiosity.

She carefully cut the tip of her finger and squeezed the blood, watching as it dripped steadily into a small dish. Setting the knife down, she looked about for a rag. Jarren continued to watch her, fascinated. The rag absorbed her blood and she carefully rubbed the rag across a coded passage of the journal. Words came into view almost immediately. They were not in a language she knew, but Jarren made a sound of surprise in his throat.

"Arcanum," he breathed, his tone almost reverent. "Modern Arcanum."

Leonie grinned at him. "It was always the blood," she said and stood up. "I expect you have enough of my blood to finish the job. Wake Avernus and Fiona and start translating," she instructed and her hope became a living creature in her.

Racing down the hall and pounding down the flight of stairs, she was breathless with hope, with excitement. She burst into their quarters, calling out for Loghain. When he appeared, sleepy and only half dressed, she launched herself at him, throwing her arms around his neck.

"My blood was always the key!" she whooped, peppering his face with kisses.

"What are you on about?" he asked, pulling back slightly from her onslaught, his face creased with concern.

"Svanar's journals! My blood was always the key!" she exclaimed and her laughter bubbled up again. "Andraste's grace, it was literally the key to the ciphers!" she crowed.

He smiled, a rare bright smile. "Then we need to get busy deciphering them."

"Yes, I have told Jarren to get Avernus and Fiona and begin the work."

"Fiona? Do you really think that's wise?"

"Perhaps not, but in the company of Jarren and Avernus I do not think she will sabotage the journals, Loghain. I think perhaps she has remembered what humanity means."

"You are woefully idealistic," he commented with a frown.

Leonie smiled up at him. "It is to make up for you being woefully realistic," she replied with a pert smile. "Besides, I believe I put the beard on that lion," she added.

Loghain's rare smile turned into a familiar snicker. "You bearded the lion?" he corrected with another snicker.

"Maker's breath, I have said this, yes? I went to Fiona yesterday and put the beard on her lion."

"Exactly so," he agreed with yet another snicker.

"As much as I hate to leave you in such good humor, I am going back to the laboratory and oversee their work. Perhaps they will not be so willing to make fun of me, yes?"


Loghain looked up from the paperwork to find that the sun was already midway through the sky. He frowned, wondering why Leonie hadn't updated him on any progress the mages had made. Pushing away from his desk, he found his way to the laboratory, trying to ignore the unease that began to coil in his stomach.

Jarren, Avernus and Fiona were bent over their work and all three looked up impatiently as he entered. "Where's Leonie?" he asked immediately and the coil of unease began to twist more tightly in his stomach at their perplexed looks.

"I haven't seen her since this morning," Jarren finally answered.

Loghain was already running before Jarren finished speaking. He made his way down to Varel's office, to Leonie's. He called for the Wardens and had them search the Vigil. A soldier arrived with Alistair a few minutes later.

"Tell him," Alistair said.

"I saw Lady Leonie heading to the cellars about three hours ago, Commander Loghain. Said she had something she needed to get so I didn't think anything about it, her being the arlessa and all."

Fear twisted the coil of unease and it unwound, flowing through his blood with a savage pain. "You're with me," he barked at Alistair and left the keep at a run. Other Wardens followed them without knowing why.

They spread out in the cellar in groups of two. Travis stayed with Loghain. Loghain reached out, trying to feel Leonie's taint and he felt a tug, a pull. He followed it down into the bowels of the cellar and they found her at the barrier door, bloody and unconscious. He was afraid to touch her, afraid she would be cold and lifeless. There was too much blood for her to be anything else. His heart screamed in his chest, a twisted lump of agony.

Travis scooped her up and Loghain saw her eyelids fluttering. He took Leonie from the Travis and held her close, unaware that he was speaking, unaware of anything except the need to get her to the infirmary.

"Run ahead and let Anders know!" he barked at Travis.

Loghain stumbled on, only reluctantly passing her to Alistair so he could climb the ladder and then taking her possessively back into his arms. He was panting, sweat rolling down his face as he entered the keep. She was breathing in rapid, shallow gasps and there was blood everywhere, but she was alive and he had to hang onto that.

"Maker's breath, she's scratched herself nearly to death," Anders breathed before closing his eyes and beginning to send warm blue currents of healing magic into Leonie.

Loghain stood, helpless and frustrated, by the side of her cot. Nila entered, coming to stand beside him, murmuring encouragement to him and a plea to Leonie. He found he couldn't speak at all, words refusing to form, his insides turning against him, suffocating him, a primal cry screaming to be set free.

Once her self-inflicted wounds were cleaned and healed, Loghain expected her to awaken but she didn't. Her breathing was still shallow and short, her chest barely rising and falling with each breath. Her face was parchment pale and a fine sheen of perspiration dampened her skin.

"Stay with her, Nila. Keep talking to her," Loghain instructed and strode out of the room, taking the stairs two at a time.

"Time's up," he growled, glowering at the trio in the laboratory. "You'd better have something to tell me," he added, a tall and menacing figure in the gloomy room.

"We're close. It has to do with both harmonics and her being a fifth generation Warden," Jarren explained when neither of his fellow mages seemed inclined to talk.

"And?" Loghain asked impatiently.

"The taint has mutated in her, the amount of it in each generation built up in the blood, it had a cumulative effect on the blood that we are trying to reproduce. The journals indicate that too little of Leonie's blood in the Joining drives the darkspawn insane. It doesn't stop the Archdemon's song, it adds another song that appears to conflict with his song.

"Too much blood kills the darkspawn rather quickly. It stops the song but causes their blood to fight her blood until it simply stops flowing in them. We have to make sure the ingredients are in the right proportion of we'll only hasten her transformation, or worse, her death."

Fiona looked up, frowning. "There is something we are missing here, some fundamental ingredient or process."

Loghain's hand snaked out and he grabbed Fiona by her throat. "If this is yet one more of your delaying tactics, I will kill you," he snarled, releasing her so quickly and violently that she stumbled back and nearly fell. Avernus righted her.

"Threatening us won't help us solve this any faster," the only mage said, iced acid. "I suggest you let us work in silence."

Hours passed slowly, the silence thick with accusation and frustration. Why hadn't he insisted she stay with him? Why hadn't he made sure someone stayed with her? He had been lulled into a false hope by her insistence that hope was stronger than fear. Hope was not stronger than death and in his experience it never had been, it never would be. Death always found a way.

In the middle of the night she began to thrash about and he finally crawled onto the cot beside her and gathered her into his arms, holding her tightly, holding her still. She was burning up, her skin dry. Her lips were cracked and patches of taint seemed to form before his eyes. The luster and glow that had always marked her joy in life had dulled.

"Don't you dare give up," he hissed at her. "Don't you dare."

But it wasn't Leonie who was giving up, he knew. He was; he had no more hope in him, if he'd ever had it to begin with. Maker, he didn't want to live in a world where she wasn't a part of it. He thought of the empty years before she had entered his life and the endless stretch of emptiness waiting for him if she died. His tears burned and stung, a recrimination, a chastisement that he had so little hope, refusing to fall and give him some release.

She stilled just before dawn, her breath now rattling in her chest, dry and brittle and whispering of death. Nila, dozing lightly in the chair beside them, stirred and her eyes found Loghain's in the semi-dark. Both knew the sound of death approaching.

"Get Travis," he told the woman and she was gone.

"Find her, Travis. Find her and help her," Loghain commanded, staring at his friend, desperately trying to find hope in Travis's eyes.

"I can't promise anything but I'll try," Travis clucked quietly. He lay down on a cot and closed his eyes, humming softly...

The jaguar, sleek and graceful, entered the Dreamscape. He wandered through grass that had once been fresh and newly minted green but was now withered and dying, a dull brown that rattled in the cold wind. The sky, once the color of the Waking Sea, was grey and empty, no yellow orb hanging in it. No birds, no flowers, nothing but greys and browns as far as the eye could see. He let out a low mewl of discontent.

The tall oak that had once boasted hundreds of serrated green leaves was bare now, a hulking mass of twisted dead wood. Beneath it was a lion, it's once golden mane a matted, tainted grey. She raised her head weakly, her once playful roar a brittle, quiet gasp.

"Come little one, you are not fighting hard enough. Where is your heart? Where is your hope?" he chided lovingly.

"I can't find it, friend. I don't remember where I put it. I grew tired looking for it," the lion whispered.

"You would kill the falcon then? That's what will happen if you don't continue to fight. If you can't find your hope, he won't allow his to grow."

"But hope can only take you so far, Ser Jaguar," the lion responded sadly.

"No, little one, it can take you as far as you want to go," Travis answered, coming to curl around the tainted little lion.

A hum in the air, the beating of tiny wings and a beautiful, familiar hummingbird appeared, bringing color in its wake. Grass that had been seared and dead began to stand tall, green climbing up the stalks.

The lion twitched and pushed herself up, staring at the color. "I remember green grass and summer skies. I remember a falcon, a bold bird that sang surprisingly sweet," the lion murmured and let out a small roar, a tiny sound, as if testing it. A louder roar followed.

"Fight, little one. Hold on to summer, find the falcon. There is your hope."

He watched as the lion bounded off, knowing that she would find the falcon now, whispered a prayer to Mother Earth that the lion would remember how to hope. As he turned to leave, he heard a whisper on the now gentle winds that blew across the greening grass. "Wait for the hawk..."


"This should do it," Avernus said, shaking the vial of blood. A drop of Archdemon blood, three ounces of lyrium dust, a drop of Svanar's blood, a drop of Leonie's blood and half a vial of blood that had been produced by mixing the concoction with Avernus's Joining five times before sending a jolt of lightning into it. They could only hope that was the right amount of each ingredient.

"I still worry about the number of drops of Svanar's blood. Or even if it should be there," Fiona fretted tiredly. "I still think we have missed something, something that even Svanar failed to see. I had hoped it would be in the cache but we can't wait any longer, can we?"

The three mages nodded at each other. They had done what they could. Sighing, Jarren led them downstairs to the infirmary.


"We need to wait. Nemishia should be here soon," Travis argued. "Trust me, Loghain, as you have trusted me before," he urged.

Loghain nodded slowly. "But if she worsens, Travis, I won't hesitate to give her the Joining."

Her breathing was becoming so labored and painful that it hurt Loghain to listen to it. He was sitting on the edge of the cot, bathing her hot skin with a cold cloth. Anders was casting heals that seemed to do no good but he, like Loghain, couldn't bear to see her in such distress.

An hour passed and she remained unchanged. Another hour and Loghain felt every nerve in him straining and twitching. He kept up a whispered command to fight, to continue to fight but he wondered if he was doing her a favor, or if he was only prolonging her agony.

By the third hour, he was ready to administer the Joining. She was failing again, her heart beating rapidly, her fever scorching her skin. He looked at Nila and saw she was feeling the same way.

Loghain bent and kissed her dry, cracked lips. He wasn't sure, in that instant, if he was strong enough to do what needed to be done to free her from her pain. He opened the vial and prepared to pour it down her throat.

"Stop!" a voice cried and he looked up, startled, spilling a bit of the contents of the vial on Leonie's gown.

Nemishia, pale and tired, rushed forward, a small scroll in her hand. "Phillipe sent this; he thinks it might hold the key."

Fiona reached forward and took the scroll, reading it with a frown. Avernus and Jarren peered over her shoulder and then they all looked at each other. "Where are we going to get that?" Jarren asked.

"From me," Fiona whispered. "Someone fetch me a knife. Jarren go to the lab and get a clean vial, Avernus's mixture, Loenie's electrified blood and a vial of fresh darkspawn blood. Hurry!" she cried and went to Loghain.

"She needs the blood of someone who has already gone through their calling," she explained quietly. "That's what we never considered."

Loghain stared at her, trying to determine if she was telling the truth or if it was just one more lie, a lie that would kill Leonie.

"I know what you're thinking, Loghain. But I'm right. Ask Avernus. I know I'm right," Fiona said and in her voice was the strength of her conviction, a strength that had not been there before.

Loghain nodded and waited impatiently for Jarren to return. They were all waiting impatiently. As soon as Jarren entered the room, Fiona took the knife Loghain had given her and sliced a long, deep cut on her palm. She and the other two mages worked quickly to create a new Joining and the air sizzled with ozone as they electrified the concoction.

Leonie didn't want to swallow it and he nearly broke her jaw holding her mouth shut. He didn't allow himself to think, to hope. He watched as her throat convulsed and he heard her swallow. She twitched and groaned and then began to scream, high and shrill, tormented, anguished. She tried to tear her skin off and he held her in his arms again, trying to keep her still. The screaming seemed to go on for hours but it was only a few moments. Her body bucked and twisted, trying to escape a pain he couldn't see, didn't know how to ease, and then she stilled and stiffened.

Her eyes fluttered and opened. "Say it," she pleaded hoarsely.

"I love you Leonie Caron Mac Tir," he whispered against her hair.

"As I love you, husband," she whispered in return. With a long, shuddering sigh, she closed her eyes again, the tension easing from her body. Her breathing slowed and deepened.

Loghain wept.

A/N: The title of this chapter is the same title I used at the end of The Lion of Orlais. It seemed fitting to end the saga that way.
The epilogue will be posted either later today or tomorrow sometime.
Thank you all, from the bottom of my heart, for all the help, encouragement and friendship you offered on this incredibly long journey
.