21 Solace – 15 Harvestmere 9:33
Over the following months, the Rangers threw themselves into a new rhythm of work and restoration. Whenever they weren’t out on jobs, they could be found at the manor, steadily transforming the once-neglected estate into something livable, even grand. The once-overgrown grounds began to take shape, the stables hummed with activity as they were repurposed into a smithy, and the training grounds, marked with fresh footprints and battle-scars, became a lively hub of camaraderie and skill-building.
But for Ariana, the heart of the manor lay not in the stables or the training yard—it was the library. From the moment she discovered it, tucked away behind a pair of heavy wooden doors, she knew it would be her sanctuary.
The room was a treasure trove, though time had left its mark. Shelves sagged under the weight of dusty tomes, some warped with age and damp. Cobwebs adorned the corners like lace, and scattered debris hinted at years of neglect. But despite its condition, the library was astonishingly well-stocked, and Ariana’s heart quickened at the sight of so much knowledge preserved. She resolved, then and there, to restore it to its former glory.
Every moment she spent at the manor became an opportunity to breathe life back into the library. By day, she worked alongside the others, helping where needed, but by evening, she slipped away to the quiet solitude of her project. She started small, carefully removing books from the most damaged shelves, dusting their covers, and gently cleaning the pages. Some were beyond repair, but others revealed treasures—histories of Ferelden, tales of Orlais, maps of lands she’d never seen, and even rare volumes on magic and the Fade.
She enlisted the help of Riley and a few others to repair the shelves themselves. Riley, naturally, teased her about her obsession. “You know, Wolf, the training yard could use a little of your attention, too. Unless you plan to defend yourself with books now?”
Ariana smirked, brushing a streak of dust from her cheek. “A sharp mind is as important as a sharp blade, Riley. You should try it sometime.”
Riley laughed, shaking her head. “If you say so. Just don’t get buried under there, alright?”
Whenever Ariana left the manor for a job, she made a point to visit markets and bookshops along the way, searching for anything to expand the collection. Over time, she began to develop a reputation among merchants in the area as a voracious collector of rare texts, and word of her interest spread. Rangers returning from jobs started bringing books as gifts—some practical, some sentimental, and some purely for amusement.
“You might like this one, Wolf,” Aldor said once, handing her a book on the flora and fauna of the Frostbacks. “Figured it’d help if we get lost up there again.”
“Or this one,” Floriana offered with a sly grin, passing her a collection of exaggerated romance tales. “Thought it might be your taste. You know, for inspiration.”
Ariana rolled her eyes, but she kept them all. Every book, regardless of subject, was a step closer to building something lasting, something greater than herself.
Little by little, the library took shape. Shelves stood sturdy again, their wood polished and shining. The room itself, once dim and neglected, now felt alive, bathed in the soft light of restored windows and warmed by the crackling fireplace. A table in the center became a gathering place for planning, studying, or simply sharing stories over a drink.
For Ariana, the library was more than just a project; it was a symbol of hope, a testament to what they were building together. It wasn’t just about rebuilding walls and shelves—it was about rebuilding lives, creating a space where knowledge and community could thrive. Each book on those shelves told a story, and together, they were weaving their own.
~~~
The night air was cool, the fire crackling softly as the Rangers gathered around, their faces illuminated by the dancing flames. A cask of ale sat open, mugs being filled and refilled as laughter and tales of triumph flowed freely. Ariana sat slightly apart from the others, leaning against a log with her arms draped over her knees. Her gaze was fixed on the fire, her fingers absently playing with the leather choker around her neck, the pendant of the Visus constellation glinting in the firelight.
Noticing her silence, Riley smirked and leaned forward. “Alright, Wolf. That necklace you’re always fiddling with—does it actually mean something, or are you just trying to hypnotize us?”
Ariana looked up, caught off guard by the question, but a small smile tugged at her lips. “It does,” she said softly. “A friend gave it to me.”
Riley snorted. “Oh, no. You’re not getting away with that kind of answer. Spill.”
Ariana laughed, shaking her head. “He gave it to me because the Visus constellation… it meant something to me. It was its stars that set me on this path.”
Linnea, sitting cross-legged across the fire, tilted her head. “What path? You can’t just drop that and expect us to move on.”
Ariana hesitated, her fingers still on the pendant. “You’re all going to think I’m crazy if I tell you.”
Lamberto leaned back with an exaggerated groan. “Well, now you have to tell us. Crazy or not, we’re listening.”
The group began cheering in unison, “Story! Story! Story!” Their mugs clinked against each other in encouragement.
Ariana laughed, raising her hands to quiet them. “Fine, fine. But if you all mutiny because you don’t like the story, remember I can probably take you. All.”
“There’s always a chance of that,” Valentina quipped, her voice dry as she took another sip of ale.
Shaking her head in mock exasperation, Ariana let out a sigh. “Alright. It was Summerday 9:29…” She paused, letting her voice soften as the memories spilled out. She spoke of the ball, Frederick, the engagement she wanted no part of, and finally sitting on her balcony, looking up at the night sky, desperate for a sign. “The star in the center of the Visus constellation flickered,” she said, her voice quiet with emotion, “as if answering me. ‘Run,’ it seemed to say. So I did. I packed whatever I thought I’d need and left that night.”
“Wait, that’s how you ended up with us?” Riley asked incredulously.
Ariana shrugged, a grin tugging at her lips. “Partly. I found passage on a ship headed to Kirkwall. That was my first stop.”
Her smile grew warmer as she described meeting the ship’s captain, Berthold, and the voyage that brought her to Kirkwall. “When we arrived, Berthold told me to seek out a man by the name of Varric Tethras.”
Malcolm’s brow furrowed as he leaned forward. “Varric Tethras? The dwarf with all the connections? I’ve heard tales of him.”
Ariana chuckled, shaking her head. “If you ever meet him, don’t tell him I told you his name was getting around. He hates that.” Her grin turned fond. “But yes, Varric. He took me under his wing, taught me how to survive, how to navigate the world. He became like a second father to me.”
“So how did you end up in Ferelden?” Lamberto asked, clearly trying to piece it together.
Ariana tilted her head. “Ah, well, my father actually found me in Kirkwall. It was a coincidence, but he warned me I wasn’t safe there. Too close to Ostwick, too obvious with mercenaries out looking for me. So Varric and I came up with a plan. Ferelden was far enough away.”
“I still don’t see how the necklace fits into all this,” Eshara said, her curiosity piqued.
Ariana smiled, the memory bittersweet. “Before I left, I wanted to give him something to thank him for everything. I found a leather bracelet engraved with the Visus constellation and gave it to him.” Her fingers brushed over the pendant. “The day I left, he gave me this. He said it might help our journeys bring us back together someday.”
Her voice faltered for a moment as tears welled up in her eyes. She took a deep breath, clearing her throat. “I really should have been a better ‘adopted’ daughter and let him know I survived the Blight.”
“Yeah, you should,” Riley said with mock seriousness, though her tone softened when Ariana glanced her way. “But, hey. Now that you’re here Wolf, maybe Visus will make good on that promise.”
The group raised their mugs again, this time in silent acknowledgment of the story—and of Varric, the man who had been there at the start of it all. The fire crackled, its warmth seeping into the cool night as the stars above twinkled, the Visus constellation watching over them.
~~~
The crisp autumn air carried a cool breeze, ruffling the leaves that still clung stubbornly to the trees along the road.The Rangers had made their way to Orlais, looking into a potential contract they’d been vetting for weeks. With their foothold in the region growing stronger, jobs like this were becoming more frequent—a merchant caravan headed from Lydes to Val Royeaux, its wares valuable enough to warrant additional protection.
“Low risk, easy coin,” Riley had declared when the job was finalized, though Ariana had merely raised a skeptical brow at the proclamation. Now, with the caravan trundling along the dirt road, the wagons creaked under their heavy loads, and the horses snorted in the cool air. Ariana walked near the lead wagon, her steps light and casual, while Riley trudged alongside her, her sword strapped across her back.
“See?” Riley said, gesturing at the peaceful road ahead. “I told you. This is the kind of job we need more of. Nice and boring. No surprises.”
Ariana shot her a sidelong glance, her lips curving into a faint smirk. “You just cursed the whole thing. You know that, right?”
Before Riley could retort, a sharp whistle cut through the air. It was followed by the unmistakable sound of arrows zipping past. One thunked into the side of the lead wagon, sending the horses into a brief panic.
“Right,” Riley muttered, drawing her massive two-handed sword with a resigned sigh. “Of course. Should’ve kept my mouth shut.”
The attackers emerged from the surrounding hills—another mercenary company, heavily armed and clearly confident. They charged the caravan from both sides, shouting war cries and waving weapons.
Ariana’s daggers flashed into her hands as she gave a quick shout to the Rangers. “Form up! Protect the wagons!”
The Rangers moved with precision, falling into formation. Riley planted herself near the lead wagon, her sword resting on her shoulder as she surveyed the attackers with an exasperated expression.
“This was supposed to be easy,” Riley grumbled as she stepped forward, cleaving through the first enemy to reach her with a single swing. “You said, ‘It’s just a caravan job, Riley.’ You didn’t say, ‘Oh, by the way, we’ll probably get ambushed.’”
Ariana darted past her, spinning low to hamstring an attacker before driving a dagger upward into their side. She grinned over her shoulder. “It is a caravan job. And technically, this is what we’re getting paid for.”
“Technically, you’re insufferable,” Riley shot back, parrying a blow from another attacker and shoving him back with brute force. She followed up with a crushing overhead swing that sent the man sprawling.
Ariana chuckled, flipping over a low strike and using the momentum to drive her boot into an attacker’s chest. “You love me.”
“Debatable,” Riley replied, stepping into the fray to intercept another group of mercenaries heading for the wagons. Her blade carved a wide arc, scattering them like leaves in a storm. “You owe me a drink for this.”
“I’m paying you for this,” Ariana said, slipping past an attacker and slitting his throat in one fluid motion. She scanned the battlefield, spotting the remaining assailants faltering as the Rangers gained the upper hand. “You’re doing great, by the way.”
“Shut up,” Riley muttered, though the corner of her mouth twitched in a faint smile as she swung her sword again, the blade cleaving cleanly through the last opponent in her path.
When the final attacker fell, the dust settled, leaving the Rangers standing victorious. The wagons were untouched, the merchants safe, and the attackers thoroughly routed. Ariana sheathed her daggers, brushing dirt off her hands as a nervous-looking noble stepped out from one of the wagons.
“Oh, thank the Maker!” the noble exclaimed, his face a mixture of relief and awe. “You saved us! Everyone will hear of the skill and reliability of the White Wolf and her Rangers. I’ll see to it personally!”
Ariana raised an eyebrow, trying to keep her expression neutral. “We’re just doing our job.”
Riley snorted. “Our easy job,” she muttered under her breath, resting her sword on her shoulder again.
Ariana glanced at her with a grin. “I’ll buy you that drink.”
“You’d better,” Riley replied, shaking her head. “If this is what an easy job looks like, I’m scared to see what a hard one is.”
The Rangers broke into laughter as they regrouped, the camaraderie and banter carrying them back to the road with the merchant caravan safely in tow.
~~~
The library was quiet, save for the faint crackle of the fire burning low in the hearth. Ariana sat curled up on a worn, comfortable couch, a drink in hand and an untouched book resting on her lap. The soft glow of the fire danced across her face as she stared into the flames, lost in thought.
The years had slipped by, each one folding into the next. Today, though, the familiar date carried an ache she couldn’t ignore. 5 Harvestmere, she thought, allowing herself a moment to remember a distant birthday spent in the warmth of Cullen’s company. That memory had been a balm during darker times, keeping her going through years of searching. Even so, her focus had shifted—building the Silver Rangers had consumed her, overshadowing the mission she had started with.
“Copper for your thoughts?” Riley’s voice broke the stillness, light and teasing, though her gaze was anything but casual. Riley had a knack for reading Ariana’s moods, especially when they turned heavy.
Ariana looked up, managing a small smile. “I need to go to Kirkwall,” she said, her voice steady but tinged with the resolve that had carried her through so many hard choices. “It’s been years since I sent word to anyone. My family likely believes I’m dead by now, and… so do the few friends I have outside of here.”
And I need to find him, she thought, but she didn’t say it aloud.
Riley leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms. Her brow lifted in curiosity and faint skepticism. “To see Varric? Do you really have to go in person? Couldn’t you just send a letter?” Her voice softened as she continued, “Besides, Orlais isn’t slowing down. There are a few jobs lined up that could use your touch.”
Ariana shook her head, her gaze unwavering as she stared into the fire. “I’ve already done my part. The contracts are secured, and the coffers are more than full.” She turned to meet Riley’s eyes, her expression steady but warm. “I wouldn’t leave if I didn’t believe you could handle this without me, Riley. And while you’re in Orlais, I need you to start finding fresh recruits. We’ve been stretched thin between Ferelden and Orlais.”
Riley’s teasing demeanor gave way to something more serious. “Is there another reason for going to Kirkwall?”
Riley had known Ariana was searching for someone—a Templar, maybe, given her insistence on visiting Lake Calenhad years ago after escaping the Crimson Blades. But Ariana guarded the details of her past like a fortress, and Riley had never pushed. Still, worry edged her voice now.
Ariana met Riley’s gaze, her eyes glassy as if the weight of her thoughts were finally surfacing. “One last try,” she admitted quietly. “If Varric can’t find him, then…” Her voice faltered, unable to finish the thought that if Varric failed, she’d have to assume the worst.
Riley let the words settle for a moment before nodding. “A few weeks, then?” she asked, though her tone hinted at her doubts. “And if we don’t hear from you by then?”
Ariana’s expression softened, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “If I’m delayed, send word to The Hanged Man in Kirkwall. They’ll know how to reach me.”
Riley hesitated, then said quietly, “You know… you never had to do this alone. We would’ve helped you.”
Ariana’s smile deepened, touched by the sentiment but tempered with a quiet understanding. “I know. But we had more important things to do than chase ghosts.”
Riley let out a resigned sigh, though a grin tugged at her lips as she brought her right fist to her chest in a salute. “By your order, Wolf.”
Ariana chuckled softly, lifting her drink in a small toast. “By my order,” she echoed, her voice carrying the bittersweet weight of hope and determination.
~~~
Ariana made her way to West Hill, the steady rhythm of her horse’s hooves an oddly comforting sound as she traveled. These days, at least, she could afford to travel on horseback—a significant improvement over the slow and exhausting journeys she had made by foot in those early days. The difference in speed was undeniable, but it also left her with more time to think as the miles flew by, something she wasn’t sure was entirely a blessing.
If only I’d had a horse back then, she thought for what felt like the hundredth time. Maybe I would have reached Lake Calenhad in time, seen Cullen before the Circle was sealed. The familiar sting of regret pierced her thoughts. Would it have changed anything? Could I have stopped them from taking him away? The same questions had echoed through her mind for years, a constant undercurrent no matter how far she traveled or what she did to distract herself. The last words she had spoken to him felt hazy, distant. She remembered the note she’d left, her vows written in those lines, but still… she couldn’t shake the feeling that somehow, she had failed him.
In West Hill, she approached the dockmaster, a burly man who now remembered her more for being the leader of the Silver Rangers than for the girl who once sent messages back and forth through Berthold. “Mistress Ariana, it’s good to see you! What brings you here?”
“It’s good to see you too. How’s everything?” she asked politely, the memories of their past work together making her smile. The Rangers had helped rebuild West Hill after the Blight, and many nights had been spent in the local tavern celebrating their successes.
“As good as you and yours left it!” the dockmaster replied proudly.
“Do you know of any ships headed for Kirkwall?” she asked, but before the dockmaster could respond, a familiar voice interrupted from behind.
“Aye, lass, I’m heading there now. Five gold—”
Ariana turned sharply, immediately recognizing the voice. The speaker, seeing her face, froze mid-sentence, his expression shifting from confusion to shock.
“Berthold?” Ariana asked, her voice almost a whisper, as if confirming it for herself. In the next moment, she closed the distance and threw her arms around him in a warm hug.
Berthold, startled for a moment, quickly returned the embrace with a hearty laugh. “We thought you gone, lass. For you, the cabin is free.”
~~~
As they set sail for Kirkwall, the tide of memories began to rise in Ariana’s mind. The familiar black walls of the city would be in view within three days, but for now, the journey was quiet. The weather was fair, and Ariana fell into her old routine with Berthold, sitting on the deck and swapping stories. Berthold, as always, had a knack for spinning tales—some wild, some ridiculous, and some surprisingly poignant.
“There was this one time,” he began, a mischievous glint in his eye, “I had this noble from Val Chevin. All prim and proper, ‘Oh, Captain Berthold, we must make haste! My cargo is of utmost importance.’” He puffed out his chest in mockery, drawing a chuckle from Ariana. “Turns out his ‘precious cargo’ was three crates of Orlesian wigs. Wigs! I nearly lost the lot of them in a storm, too.”
Ariana raised an eyebrow, laughing softly. “Did you tell him?”
“Of course not,” Berthold replied with mock indignation. “The man would’ve fainted dead away. No, I handed them over like a true professional, even threw in a bow for flair. He paid double for the ‘safe delivery.’”
She shook her head, a genuine smile breaking through the weight of her thoughts. “You’ve always had a way with people, Berthold.”
He grinned, leaning back against the railing. “And you’ve always had a way of turning up when I least expect it.”
Within three days, the familiar black walls of Kirkwall came into view, looming over the harbor like dark sentinels. The towering statues, the massive chains clinging to the cliffs like iron webs—it was all just as she remembered. Ariana shook her head, half-smiling to herself. I’ve just come from a country still recovering from a Blight, and yet Kirkwall… Kirkwall somehow still looks darker.
She only hoped her instincts were right and that Varric would still be at The Hanged Man.
As they docked, Ariana thanked Berthold again, handing him a coin pouch. He tried to refuse, but she pressed it into his hands. “For everything you did for me back then. And because I might need you again soon—if you’re willing to travel to Ferelden more often. The Rangers could use you.”
“For you, lass, I can do that. Just send word when you need me,” Berthold said, tipping his hat before setting about unloading his cargo.
The weight of the city settled over her like a thick cloak as she stepped onto the dock. She only hoped she still remembered the twisting streets; it had been so long. Pulling her own cloak up over her face, she avoided making eye contact with anyone, though she could feel the occasional lingering glance as she walked by. Maybe I should’ve picked a different cloak, she thought, but the familiar white fur-trimmed cloak had become a part of her. Her armor.
She moved through the streets with purpose, her stride filled with the determination that had become second nature. Her feet carried her unconsciously through the winding alleys and narrow passages of Lowtown, leading her exactly where she needed to go. I guess some things you don’t forget, she thought, half in disbelief and half in relief.
As she approached The Hanged Man, her heart beat a little faster. An unexpected wave of nerves settled over her as she pushed the door open. Her last letter to Varric echoed in her mind—telling him she couldn’t leave Ferelden just yet. She could almost imagine his reaction: gruff, worried, and undoubtedly frustrated that she had stayed in the middle of a Blight.
Four years, she thought, guilt twisting in her stomach.
She closed her eyes for a moment, gathering herself. Maker, please let him forgive me.
~~~
Seeing Corff behind the bar brought Ariana a little comfort. The place hadn’t changed much, and neither had he. She approached him quietly, and as he glanced up, recognition flickered in his eyes.
“Looking for Varric, are you?” Corff asked, a knowing smile softening his gruff tone. “Or maybe something to eat? Been a long journey, I’d wager.”
Ariana hadn’t realized how hungry she was until he mentioned it. Nodding, she tried to pull out a few coins, but Corff held up his hand. “Nah, not for you, miss. Varric would have my head on a platter if I took your coin.”
She managed a small chuckle, nodding her thanks, and Corff went to work on what he called “Varric’s special.” She moved towards Varric’s suite, each step heavier with anticipation. Four years. Would he even recognize her? And what would he think of her after all this time? After a deep breath to steady herself, she opened the door and stepped in.
She kept her hood low, eyes fixed on the floor, her nerves on edge. Varric was seated at his usual spot, a hand absently resting on the familiar shape of Bianca.
“Can I help you?” he began, his voice casual but guarded. His hand shifted slightly, ready to grab Bianca if needed.
Ariana swallowed, then slowly reached up, pulling her hood back. She gave him a tentative smile, searching his expression for any hint of anger—or maybe disappointment. “Hello, Varric.”
His expression froze, then softened as realization dawned. It had been years, and he’d held onto hope, but seeing her standing here in front of him felt like a dream he couldn’t trust. His hand dropped from Bianca, his voice quiet with disbelief. “Welcome back…Pup.”
Relief flooded Ariana at the familiar nickname, and she let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. She walked to him slowly, but as she reached him, her composure broke. She dropped to her knees beside him, wrapping her arms around him in a fierce hug, letting the weight of the last few years sink in.
Varric’s hand rested on her back, patting her gently. “I thought… I’d hoped… well, Maker’s breath, you really know how to keep a dwarf waiting,” he murmured, the gruffness in his tone belied by the warmth in his voice.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice tight. “I… I didn’t come back, but I couldn’t. I had to stay.” She pulled back slightly, meeting his gaze, struggling to keep herself together. “I’m sorry I didn’t write. You deserved better than silence.”
Varric shook his head, dismissing her apology. “You did what you had to, Pup. The world was a dark place… still is. But you made it back.” He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “That’s all that matters.”
They sat there in comfortable silence, the weight of the unspoken pressing on them both. She didn’t need to say it, and he didn’t need to ask, but Varric could see it—the exhaustion, the shadows of everything she’d been through.
“Well,” he said after a moment, trying to lighten the mood as best he could. “Now, you’ve got a lot of catching up to do, and I expect you’ll start from the beginning. With all the details.” He offered a half-smile. “And don’t think I’m letting you disappear again anytime soon.”
Ariana managed a faint smile, the relief finally settling in. “Don’t worry, Varric. I don’t plan on going anywhere. Rather, if I do, you’ll know how to find me.”
~~~
Corff brought in a plate of bread and cheese, and some wine. Dropped it off on the table as Varric and and Ariana made their way back to the table.
As Corff entered, he set a plate of bread and cheese alongside a bottle of wine on the table, offering them a nod before slipping back out with the quiet efficiency of someone who understood when company needed privacy. Ariana hadn’t even realized how hungry she was until the scent of fresh bread filled the room, stirring her appetite.
Varric gestured toward the table with a welcoming grin. “Sit, Pup. You look like you haven’t had a proper meal in ages. What, was the fare in Ferelden that bleak?”
Ariana laughed, settling into the chair opposite him and reaching for a piece of bread. “For a while there…sometimes. I do alright these days, but I also have been on the road a little over a week now, I don’t exactly travel with fine meals.”
As she nibbled on the cheese, savoring the simple comfort, she could feel Varric’s eyes on her, studying her in that way only he could—seeing past her words, past the faint smile she wore. It was as if the years had melted away, and once again, she felt like the young girl he’d once sheltered in the Lowtown streets.
He raised his glass, eyeing her over the rim. “To surviving the blight, the road, and whatever else life’s thrown at you since,” he said, his voice a bit softer, a warmth in his eyes that made the moment feel real. “You’re back, Pup.”
Ariana clinked her glass against his, trying to steady her heart. “To being back,” she echoed, though a flicker of sadness lingered in her gaze. She sipped the wine, gathering herself, feeling the comfort of this familiar place begin to chip away at the hard shell she’d built over the years.
Ariana set her glass down and leaned back, offering Varric a tentative smile, though a shadow touched her eyes. She’d been holding parts of her story close for a long time, but if anyone deserved to hear it, it was him. She’d begin with what happened after she’d read his letter years ago, and how she and Cullen had tried to warn people about the impending Blight, hoping to save just a few lives.
But when she finally mentioned Cullen’s name aloud, Varric paused, his expression somewhere between shock and disbelief. “Hold on,” he interrupted, brows furrowing as he looked her over. “You’re telling me this whole time, your infamous ‘handsome Templar’ was Cullen Rutherford? Knight-Captain Cullen Rutherford?”
The title made her heart flutter, a mix of pride and hurt. “He’s here? He got a promotion?” she questioned softly, the realization dawning with a mixture of excitement and disappointment. He was here in Kirkwall all along. Relief and something like betrayal mingled, tightening her throat. How many times had she searched, scoured letters and asked for news, only to find nothing? And all the while, he’d left without a word, without a hint, without her.
Varric watched her reaction carefully. “Yeah, Knight-Captain now,” he confirmed, with a touch of reservation in his voice. But he gave a huff, leaning back and rubbing his forehead as if pained. “Pup, I’ll be honest—maybe for your sake more than his. He might be the Cullen you remember, but from what I’ve seen, he’s practically become the left hand of Meredith. You know, that woman who makes ogres look like sunshine?”
Ariana’s face darkened, her hands tightening around her glass. She held Varric’s gaze, determined to explain what he couldn’t possibly understand. “I know the rumors.” she said, voice steady. “I know what happened at the Circle Tower in Ferelden. The place was sealed, overrun by abominations. Most of the mages—and Templars—were killed. They only made it out because the Hero of Ferelden came through and helped end it.”
Varric’s skeptical look softened a bit.
“And Cullen…,” she continued, swallowing the emotions that threatened to rise. “If he survived that… well, Maker only knows what he had to endure.” She looked away, gathering herself. She hadn’t intended to open this wound, but it was already bleeding, and it was too late to stop now.
Ariana took a steadying breath, meeting Varric’s gaze. “I came here in large part to ask for your help,” she admitted, voice tight with the conflict churning inside her. “I thought I’d be searching half of Thedas to find him. I never expected to hear he was… right here, right in this city.”
Memories drifted up, unbidden and bittersweet—the warmth of his embrace in the tavern after Ostagar, the quiet promise they’d face the darkness together. But they hadn’t. They’d been pulled apart, swept by different currents, separated before the real storm had even begun. The realization weighed heavy on her chest, and she hadn’t noticed how silent she’d grown, lost in the remnants of something they’d never had the chance to finish.
Varric’s voice pulled her out of her thoughts, gentle but probing. “So… what do you want to do now, pup?” He searched her face, noting the hurt lingering in her eyes. He hadn’t imagined he could dislike Cullen any more than he already did, but seeing her like this… well, it didn’t exactly raise his opinion.
Ariana looked away, jaw set in a determined line. “How do I find him?” she asked, almost in a whisper. She wasn’t sure what she’d do once she did. Old instincts told her to observe first, get a sense of who he was now. Four years was a long time, and the Cullen she remembered might not be the Cullen she’d find.
“The Gallows is where he’s stationed,” Varric replied cautiously. “But… if you’d prefer not to risk that, I can ask around, find out his usual haunts. Everyone’s got their own version of a hideaway.”
She gave a quick nod, relief and anxiety both flickering in her eyes. “The Gallows… it won’t exactly be easy to observe him there. And if Meredith’s around, I doubt I’ll get far.” She huffed a quiet sigh, rubbing her hands together as if warding off the lingering chill of uncertainty. “But yes. Anything you can find about his routines—some place he might let his guard down, if he has one here.”
“Got it, pup,” Varric said, nodding. His gaze softened, and he leaned forward slightly. “Just… take it slow, alright? And remember, you don’t have to do this alone.”
She managed a faint smile, the hint of a warmth in her eyes. “I know, Varric. Thank you.” She turned back to her glass, the weight of all that lay ahead still heavy but not quite as crushing as before.
~~~
Varric leaned back, folding his arms and giving her a look that was more knowing than anything else. “So… I’m guessing you’re planning to stay in Kirkwall for a while, then?”
Ariana sighed. “For a few weeks, yes. That was my original plan. But I have business in Ferelden and Orlais—if I’m gone too long, my lieutenant will send a search party, or a small contingent…
Varric’s eyebrow quirked up. “Lieutenant, you say? Of what, exactly?”
Ariana paused, realizing that she hadn’t quite finished telling him her story. She took a breath, skipping over the darker turns of her journey for now. “After the Blight… I spent some time with the Crimson Blades.” She said it lightly, keeping her voice calm. “It wasn’t long before I decided to leave them behind and start something of my own—a company called the Silver Rangers.”
A flash of recognition sparked in Varric’s eyes. He leaned forward, eyes narrowing with a gleam of interest. “The Silver Rangers, huh? I’ve been hearing things about them. Word is there’s a mercenary group out there doing good for a change. Protecting people who can’t pay, keeping the roads safe. Some say they’re led by a mysterious figure. They call him the White Wolf…”
He let his words trail off, watching her with that sharp, assessing gaze, waiting for her reaction.
Ariana tried to stifle a smile but couldn’t help it. “Rumors do have a way of growing legs,” she said, the ghost of amusement dancing in her eyes. “Not as grand as the tales, I assure you.”
Varric chuckled, clearly impressed. “Not as grand? Kid, you’ve done what most mercenary companies can’t even dream of—people are talking about the Silver Rangers as if you’re some kind of heroes out of the story books.”
Ariana’s smile softened. “It wasn’t easy, but I realized that helping people… well, it’s what keeps me going. Gives me something real to hold onto, even if the world can be so unforgiving.”
Varric tilted his head, a glint of pride in his eyes. “Pup, you’ve made quite a name for yourself. I’d say your father would be proud of what you’re doing—though, knowing him, he’d probably want you to settle somewhere safe.”
She gave a soft laugh, looking away. “Or he’d ask for stories of my ‘adventures’.” Her gaze returned to Varric, this time filled with gratitude. “Thank you, Varric. For letting me tell you all of this… and for not judging me.”
Varric raised his glass in her direction, a warm, encouraging smile on his face. “You don’t need to thank me, kid. But I’ll drink to the White Wolf, to Cullen, and to whatever you plan on doing next.”
“Yeah, to whoever the White Wolf is,” Ariana agreed, clinking her glass with his, her voice carrying a hint of finality. She’d built a careful wall around that identity, keeping it somewhat separate from herself, from Ariana Trevelyan. The White Wolf had the freedom to make enemies, to be feared or respected on the road, but she? She was still the runaway noble, a survivor of the Blight. And for now, that was exactly how she wanted to keep it.
Pausing for a moment, she softened her tone. “Speaking of my father…” Her voice held a note of hesitancy. “Could you… send word? Just to let him know I’m here, alive and well. He’s probably given up on getting news by now, but it would mean the world to me.”
Varric gave a firm nod, understanding immediately. “I’ll get my fastest people on it. Still sending word through that servant girl of his, Isabel?”
Ariana nodded, the faintest smile touching her lips. “Yes, through Isabel. And maybe see if he could make the journey to Kirkwall if he’s able. It’s been so long… I’d just like to see him again.”
Varric offered her a reassuring smile. “Consider it done, kid. I’ll make sure he knows you’re safe and that you’d like to see him, if he’s up for the trip.”
She released a breath, feeling the weight of those years away from her family lighten, if only by a little. “Thank you, Varric. Really. I think… I think I’ll turn in for the night. It’s been a long enough journey getting back here.”
He chuckled, the glint of his familiar mischief returning. “Four years? Yeah, I’d say that qualifies as a long trip. And don’t worry, Pup—your old room’s just as you left it. Always ready for you.”
Ariana’s smile brightened at his words, feeling the warmth of the familiarity, the comfort of returning somewhere that still felt like hers. She gave Varric a grateful nod, and with that, she made her way out of his suite, down the hallway, and back to her room, where memories, hopes, and the unknown future waited to meet her.
Tonight, she would rest—and tomorrow, she’d find out what new stories awaited.