A/N: This is yet another story, because I am a masochist. Actually, it will be a series of dribs and drabs of Leonie Caron's life. Some chapters will be of her time with Duncan and others will be of her time with Loghain. They will be random, and probably updated sporadically. It isn't necessary to read the Lion trilogy but it will probably help make sense of certain chapters.

Thank you, Lisa...your grace in accepting yet ANOTHER story is very much appreciated!

Thank you, Enaid, for your brilliance in coming up with the title for this story!

In this chapter, Leonie is trying to adjust to her new life with Loghain, after the Grey Wardens.

Beneath a Smiling Moon

Sleep was a mischievous child, tantalizingly close, yet just beyond her grasp. Leonie sighed softly and pushed the blankets away, her eyes darting to the window. The newly-risen moon dappled the floor with silvered fingers, beckoning her. Picking up her wrapper, she allowed herself to follow, padding quietly down the stairs and opening the door, wincing when the hinges protested at being disturbed. She listened intently, expecting to hear Loghain's feet hit the floor as he came in search of her. Relieved not to hear anything, she stepped into the sweetly-scented night.

She strolled lightly through the dewy grass, the blades tickling her bare feet as she walked down the hill to the field below. The moon, smiling sublimely as it drifted through the night sky, guided her. Travis had once told her the Chasind called such a moon a smiling moon. She stared up at the diffused light it gave off and thought she could make out a teasing smile.

Standing in its light, she became aware of how profound the silence was; the time when the creatures of the night had retired, and the creatures of the morning had yet to wake. Even the wind refrained from rustling through the trees. The only sound was the beating of her heart and even that was subdued.

It was the silence that made sleep a stranger at times. Her entire life had been lived around Wardens and the sounds of soldiers and the associated noise of life in a military compound. Losing her taint and moving to the parcel of land in the middle of nowhere amplified the intensity of the silence around her.

Sighing, she spread her wrapper on the ground and sank down, allowing her thoughts to form and penetrate the stillness. Maker, she missed the sweet sound of her tainted blood singing in her veins. She missed her Wardens, who were no longer her Wardens, now that Nathaniel was the Warden Commander.

Andraste's grace, what had she been thinking to hand it all over to someone else and walk away after a lifetime spent working toward the goal of becoming First Warden? To move to the countryside where the silence was absolute when she had spent a lifetime surrounded by warriors and friends?

She closed her eyes against the stinging accusation of tears. She would not cry. She had spent most of the last year in tears, near tears, or fighting tears and she didn't want to shed one more. She had chosen her new life and she would, by the Maker, learn to appreciate it.

Riordan would laugh at her if he saw her. He had been her mentor, her confidant as she grew up, and, now, seeing her as a farmer's wife, when she knew nothing about farming, would amuse him no end. The ache, dulled by time, but still there, bloomed in her chest. He would want her to be happy and settled, she just wasn't sure she was. Sitting in the silvered grace of a smiling moon, she wasn't even sure what would make her happy. He would tease her without mercy if he could see her standing ankle deep in dirt, spreading seed as if she knew what she was doing. Not that it was planting season, according to Loghain.

And she could not think of Riordan without her thoughts turning to Duncan, and that sweet, bitter ache grew. She missed his tender counsel, his quiet strength and the grace he'd brought to her life. Still. Always. Somewhere, locked in a place not touched by others, he lived on, a silent reminder of all that she had become through his loving guidance.

A farmer's wife? What had she been thinking? She tilted her head up to stare at the smiling moon, seeking answers that she wasn't entirely sure she wanted. She loved Loghain. She loved him without reservation, and she was delighted to see how happy he was at returning to his roots. But they were his roots, not hers. Did he even know how out-of-place she felt? How lost she was?

She plucked at the grass with agitated fingers. She was still adjusting to life without the Wardens. Did Loghain recognize the restlessness in her? The need for more in her life than a farm? She wanted children, but even with the taint no longer coursing through her, there was no guarantee that she could bear any children. In fact, Anders thought it unlikely, given her age and the damage her body had suffered during those missing hours when she was sure she had already died.

A stir in the air currents made her muscles tense and she clutched a blade of grass in nervous fingers.

"You failed to butter me to death so you plan to stick me with a deadly blade of grass, do you?" Loghain asked dryly, his voice sleep-roughened.

Leonie's head snapped up and she let out a hissing breath. "Must you sneak up on me?"

"Yes, if only to see what devious method of death you have planned for me."

He wore only a blanket and a thin pair of breeches, his hair unbound and disheveled from sleep. A rare smile flickered across his features as he waited for her to respond.

"Better men than you have fallen beneath it," she replied, wielding the blade of grass like a weapon.

"It's a wonder the Orlesians ever managed to conquer any land, given their choices in weaponry."

She laughed softly. "We conquer because of those weapons, yes? While the enemy laughs at us, we march through them, brandishing our weapons of butter knives, blades of grass, and the occasional pointy-toed shoe, until the entire nation has collapsed with laughter."

She shifted slightly, inviting Loghain to join her. "You are a great tactician, yes? Surely you have considered such a strategy yourself?"

Loghain shook his head and unwrapped the blanket, draping it around them both. He pulled her closer and she didn't resist. He was a solid presence in an unknown land and she sought his comfort, feeling weak for needing it.

"Now, suppose you tell me why you haven't been able to sleep these past few weeks?"

"Do you know what this moon is called?" she asked, changing the subject. She was unwilling to give voice to thoughts she suspected would inflict wounds. They had inflicted enough on each other through the course of their courtship; she didn't want to inflict more.

"Do not think to change the topic, Leonie. It's obvious you've a great deal on your mind. I may not be the most insightful person, but neither am I the most dim-witted."

There was a slight barb in his words, a certain sharpness in his voice that meant he was hurt and preparing for a fight. She sighed, resting her head on his shoulder. "You are such a stubborn man."

"So you've been delighted to point out on more than one occasion."

"Yet it does not seem to have deterred you from being so, yes?"

She glanced at his face, lit with the soft glow of the moon, to see a sleek black brow raised.

"I love you," she began, striving for words that would help and not hurt.

"But?" he prodded. He held himself aloof, as if he already knew what she would say.

She pushed to her feet, leaving his warmth behind, in favor of pacing through the damp grass. She ran a hand through her hair and came to a halt in front of him again. "It is too quiet! Maker's breath, I cannot understand how one finds such silence peaceful!" she burst out.

His sleek black brow lowered to knit with the other in a frown. "Too quiet?" he asked, and his voice was a reflection of the coming winter.

"I cannot do this," she continued, listening in horror as words tumbled from her mouth like apples from an upturned basket. "I cannot cook. I know nothing of farming. I miss Varel and the Wardens. I am not meant for this quiet life. I cannot live this life."

He stood in one fluid motion and came to put his hands on her shoulders, preventing her from pacing. "You cannot? Or you will not?" he asked, meeting her eyes with a steely blue gaze that held her in place.

"I – do you not miss the life of a soldier? The song in your blood that is answered by the other Wardens?" she asked, feeling cruel and confused and suddenly alone in her misery.

"I was a soldier for longer than you have been alive, Leonie. Of course I miss it. But if you think I'll go back to it now, having experienced this," he added with a sweeping gesture that included her, as well as the farm, "you are sadly mistaken."

Her heart dropped and her brain stumbled to a stop. "I – I do not know how to live this life," she admitted around the lump of emotion balling up in her throat. Her shoulders would have slumped but his grip on them was iron.

"Did you pick up a sword and shield for the first time and know immediately how to use them? Did you lead your first battle without making mistakes? And, lest you believe you did, let me assure you that you were still learning when I met you," he added with a slight twitch of lips. "Cooking and being a farmer's wife will come to you in time. As to the song in your blood, that is your impatience speaking. If you listen, you'll hear it," he chided.

She blinked. "I am no longer tainted, how can I hear it?"

Loghain shook his head and she wanted to stamp her foot impatiently, which would only prove his assertion. She sighed and repeated her question in a less accusatory voice.

"I can hear your blood sing to me, Leonie. Not in the same way, but it is there in your smile, in your touch. You've only to stop being afraid to fail."

Leonie was stunned into silence by his insight. She was afraid, and she was failing miserably. She had yet to make a loaf of bread that wasn't as flat and black as shoe leather and her blackened-rabbit stew wasn't even fit to feed to the livestock.

"The question is: do you want this life?" he asked, his voice without inflection of any kind.

Did she? It was so like Loghain to cut down to the heart and examine it, as if it was merely one of his stalks of wheat, or whatever he planned on planting in the fields. She couldn't give him a decent meal, or assist with the farm chores, without causing additional work for him. And with only each other for company, how long before he grew tired of her? Or she of him? Everything about this life was foreign to her, overwhelming her with a sense of failure.

As loath as she was to admit it, he was right. She could learn if she gave herself permission to fail. He teased her about her lack of culinary skills, but he hadn't actually complained. It was her own stubborn pride that demanded she was unfit for the new life she had chosen because it did not come naturally to her. Not in the way being a Grey Warden had. But that life was over and she had left it willingly. Now that it was proving more difficult than she had imagined, was she prepared to walk away from it? Her answer was spoken on the breath of a sigh.

"I want you, Loghain."

"This is part of me, Leonie," he answered firmly. "This land, the farm, the life it brings with it. All of these things are a part of me."

Yes, they were. And she loved to watch him squat down to grab up a handful of soil and breathe it in. She loved walking the land with him, hand in hand, as he explained the need for crop rotation and soil amendments. Not because she understood a word he was saying, but because they were together. Perhaps it was time she allowed him to teach her. Perhaps it was time she learned to let go of her old life.

She moved away from him, pacing again. He settled once more on her wrapper, staring out at the fields that were bathed in an ethereal blue glow from the moon. He hadn't forced her to make the decision to walk away from her former life. She had made it for herself, and now she was putting the onus of finding happiness in it on his shoulders.

"Will you refrain from laughing at my cooking attempts?" she demanded, coming to stand over him, frowning.

"I can't promise that, no. In my defense, I didn't laugh at your apple pie debacle."

"Only because you were too busy choking on it."

Loghain's brows quirked and his lips curved slightly. "One can hardly blame me for choking on an apple stem," he said quietly, humor underscoring his words.

Her laughter caught her by surprise. This was where she was meant to be, here with him. She knew that as surely as she knew that the moon smiled down on them. She knelt in front of him, throwing herself into his arms and he caught her, falling back with a soft thud.

"You didn't have to remind me of that," she huffed, punctuating each word with a kiss.

He pulled her close, his lips moving against hers, and she gave herself up to the feeling of their bodies melding. "I mentioned it only in the hope of preventing future such atrocities," he whispered, his breath warm against her cool skin.

"I suppose a trip to Orlais, to remind you of all the reasons we chose this life, might be in order," he continued a few moments later.

"You would travel to Orlais?" she asked in disbelief, pulling away to study his face, looking for signs of more teasing. He was looking disgustingly smug, and her heart thudded in her chest. He was serious.

"I would. In fact, I have already made the arrangements."

"What? How did you make arrangements without me knowing about them?"

Loghain raised a brow. "You give me very little credit, Mistress Mac Tir. Is it not within the purview of the newly-wedded husband to arrange the wedding trip?"

Leonie was speechless, and he took advantage of that, pulling her down for another kiss. She lost herself in him, in the night that surrounded them. She loved him, and, somehow, she would overcome her fear of failing, her uncertainty. She would make her life with him work because she couldn't imagine herself anywhere but by his side.

She shifted and rolled over, pulling him with her. "There is no need, you know. It is enough that you would offer," she told him, gazing up at his stern features. He lowered his lips to hers.

"Indeed. Yet, I find myself curious about a country that can raise such a fierce warrior, but is unable to teach that same warrior how to cook. And, if we're lucky, I might even be able to examine the vicious weapons that Orlesians are so fond of."

"Oh no, those are state secrets," she began but was prevented from continuing as he once again captured her lips in a searing kiss.

They lay in each other's arms, discussing a trip to Orlais that she would never have thought possible. With his arms wrapped around her, she realized that her choice to stay or go had never been hers to begin with. Her heart had chosen long before her mind had even considered it.

The moon, smiling its benediction, sailed on in the silence of the night sky.