9 Firstfall 9:33
Ariana’s gaze wandered, distant as they walked the docks that morning, her thoughts lost in the events of the previous day. The feel of Cullen’s arms around her, the warmth of his touch, and the kiss—Maker, the kisses—played on a loop in her mind. She had always known she cared for him deeply, even from the earliest days they had spent together. There had always been something unspoken between them, something more than friendship, even if she hadn’t known how to name it back then.
“So… we’re still going with ‘just friends,’ then?” Varric’s teasing tone broke through her reverie.
Ariana turned, giving him a mock glare, though a smile tugged at her lips. “We’re going with… we’re just us, whatever that is.” Her voice softened as her thoughts drifted again, her smile fading into something more thoughtful.
Varric chuckled, shaking his head. “I’d tell you this is trouble, but…” He sighed, his expression softening. “The person he is with you isn’t the same Knight-Captain I’ve seen or heard about the past few years. Not that I’d admit that to anyone, mind you.”
Ariana’s smile brightened as she placed a hand on his shoulder. “Thanks, Varric.”
Before he could respond, a familiar voice interrupted, one that made her heart leap. “Ari!”
She turned to find Cullen striding toward her, a smile breaking across his face. She couldn’t help but smile back, her thoughts scattering as he approached. “Cullen? What are you doing here? I didn’t think I’d see you today.”
As he reached her, Cullen wrapped his arms around her and lifted her off her feet. “I needed to check on something,” he said, his voice warm and steady. “But then I saw you.” Ariana returned the embrace, her arms looping around his neck as her heart swelled.
“You know… I’m pretty sure most of Lowtown and the docks can see us right now,” she said, her tone amused but tinged with embarrassment.
“I don’t care,” he replied simply, pulling her closer before pressing a kiss to her lips.
Varric sighed dramatically from a few paces away, shaking his head like a father who didn’t need to see his daughter’s love life unfold in front of him—but the small, fond smile tugging at his lips betrayed his true feelings.
“Ariana! What is the meaning of this?” The sharp, angry voice cut through the moment, freezing them both mid-embrace.
“Maker… not again,” Ariana muttered under her breath as Cullen lowered her to the ground but kept one arm protectively around her.
Turning, Ariana found her mother, Lady Elara Trevelyan, storming toward them, flanked by the same guards who had escorted her the day before. Her expression was a storm of fury, though Ariana could see cracks of frustration and desperation beneath it.
“Mother,” Ariana said flatly, her voice exasperated but steady. “I assume you’re leaving for Ostwick?”
Elara’s gaze flickered to Cullen, and her expression soured further. “What is the meaning of this? It’s disgraceful for you to associate with such… commoners.”
Ariana couldn’t help but laugh at Varric’s whispered, “Oh, this should end well.”
Shaking her head, Ariana turned back to her mother. “Well, mother, I was raised by a ‘commoner’ as you would say” she began, her tone calm but edged with unyielding defiance. “We both know Isabel was more of a mother to me than you ever were, so maybe we don’t see things the same way.” Ariana’s tone hardened. “Also, did you forget you’re a Trevelyan mother? You know, the same Trevelyans that take their ties to the Chantry very seriously. I’m not sure father would approve of you treating the Knight-Captain of Kirkwall with such disrespect.”
Cullen stiffened slightly at the mention, but he didn’t interrupt. Instead, he tightened his arm around Ariana’s waist, silently supporting her.
Elara’s expression twisted with fury, but before she could retort, Ariana raised her hand to silence her. “I’m not done. Do you even care that I’m alive for any reason other than to make Duchess Evelyn feel better? Do you even want to know what it was like to survive the Blight… alone?”
Elara faltered, her defiant mask cracking for the first time, but she didn’t concede. “You are a child,” she said coldly, “and you don’t understand the burden of responsibility.”
Ariana scoffed, her voice low and laced with pain. “I wish I could understand why you cared for me the least out of all your children. Was I just a trophy to trade away? Would you have been happier if I had been the one to manifest magic—if I could have been sent away?”
Before Elara could respond, Ariana motioned to the guards. “Escort her to the docks. I’m done with this conversation.”
Turning fully into Cullen, she laid her head against his chest, his hand moving instinctively to cradle the back of her head. “Are you alright?” he asked softly, his voice steady and full of concern.
Ariana took a deep breath, pulling away just enough to meet his eyes. “I will be,” she said with a faint smile.
She glanced at Varric, offering a weak shrug. “It’s not really news that my mother has never cared for me. I just… I guess I thought she cared enough to want me alive.”
Varric’s expression softened. “I’m sorry, pup.”
Cullen leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I’m here if you need me.”
Ariana waved a dismissive hand, forcing a brighter smile. “Really, both of you. I’m fine,” she insisted. Looking up at Cullen, she added, “Go. I’m sure you have duties to attend to. I’m going to see my father.”
“Are you sure?” Cullen asked, his hand lingering in hers.
She nodded, her smile growing more genuine. “I’ll see you later.”
He stepped back slowly, his fingers brushing hers one last time before he turned toward the Gallows.
Varric tilted his head, watching her carefully. “You sure you’re alright, Pup?” he asked, his fatherly tone unmistakable.
Ariana sighed, her voice quieter now. “I am. She never really was much of a mother to me. Isabel was.” Her eyes glistened briefly with unshed tears, which she quickly blinked away. “I wish I could see her now. I miss her.”
Varric, sensing her need for distraction, clapped his hands together. “Well then, let’s get this over with. Information doesn’t pick itself up, you know.”
Ariana laughed softly, grateful for his timing. “Let’s go.”
~~~
After finishing her rounds with Varric, Ariana made her way to Hightown, her thoughts swirling with the events of the past two days. Cullen’s steadfast presence at her side, standing between her and her mother’s hired mercenaries, had been a calming force in a storm she hadn’t realized was still raging. Though she knew she could have handled the situation herself, it had been a relief not to, to feel for once like someone was standing with her rather than against her.
And then there was her father—the man she had grown up seeing as reserved and composed, suddenly blending seamlessly into the Hanged Man’s rough-and-tumble charm. The memory of his banter with Isabela and Hawke brought a small smile to her face as curiosity bubbled up unbidden. She had so many questions now, questions she’d never thought to ask before. Perhaps he wasn’t as simple as she had always thought.
When she reached the Trevelyan estate, she paused briefly at the door, taking in the sight of the stately yet modest building. Unlike her previous visit, she didn’t sneak through servant passages or keep to the shadows. Today, she walked through the front door, her steps confident.
The air inside felt different—lighter, perhaps, or maybe it was just her. The sunlight streaming through the windows gave the house an unfamiliar warmth, a far cry from the tension-filled halls she had once crept through. She followed the faint sound of voices to the kitchen, where she found her father seated at the table, a cup of tea in his hands.
But he wasn’t alone.
At the sound of her footsteps, both heads turned toward her. Ariana froze, her heart leaping as she recognized the familiar figure sitting across from her father. Her breath caught in her throat, tears springing to her eyes before she could stop them.
“Isabel?” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion as a smile broke across her face.
Isabel’s face lit up, and in an instant, she was on her feet, crossing the room to pull Ariana into a warm embrace. “Oh, my dear girl!” Isabel exclaimed, her voice thick with emotion. “It’s good to see you safe and sound. I knew you had to be alive—I prayed for you every day.”
Ariana clung to her, the tears she had been holding back finally spilling over. “Maker, I’ve missed you,” she managed, her voice breaking. “I’m so sorry I worried you…”
“Shhh, my child,” Isabel murmured, holding her close. “You have nothing to be sorry for.” She pulled back just enough to cradle Ariana’s face in her hands, wiping away her tears with gentle fingers. “I’m just so happy to see you safe, my dear. That’s all that matters.”
Watching the exchange, Charles rose from his seat, his brow furrowing as he took in Ariana’s expression. Though she looked relieved, he could see the deeper pain lingering just beneath the surface.
“My darling, whatever is the matter?” he asked softly, his voice full of concern.
Isabel gave Ariana’s shoulders a reassuring squeeze before stepping aside, allowing her to turn toward her father. Without hesitation, Ariana wrapped her arms around him, burying her face against his chest as if seeking refuge.
“I was at the docks when Mother was leaving…” Ariana began, her voice unsteady. “I always knew she didn’t care much for me, but…” She hesitated, her voice breaking slightly. “She doesn’t even care that I’m alive. Was she ever truly concerned, or was I just an embarrassment to her?”
Charles let out a heavy sigh, holding her tightly as he rested his chin against the top of her head. “Oh, my darling girl,” he said, his voice low and soothing. “In truth, I believe your mother was concerned. I think she may even care for you. But…” He paused, searching for the right words. “I don’t know if she knows how to be your mother.”
Ariana pulled back slightly, looking up at him, her brows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?” she asked, her voice quiet.
Charles cupped her cheek gently, his expression filled with a mix of sorrow and understanding. “Your mother has always been so focused on responsibility and decorum, on upholding the image of the Trevelyan name, that I fear she has forgotten how to show her love. She… she has buried herself in duty for so long that I think she doesn’t know how to let herself feel, let alone express it.”
Ariana’s eyes glistened, her heart aching at his words. She wanted to be angry, to hold on to the resentment that had fueled her for so long. But now, hearing this, all she felt was a deep sadness—for her mother, for herself, for the relationship they would never have.
Isabel, sensing the moment’s heaviness, stepped forward and rested a comforting hand on Ariana’s arm. “Come now, my dear,” she said gently. “Why don’t you sit down? I’ll make you some tea and fetch some fresh hearth cakes.”
Ariana managed a small smile, nodding as Isabel guided her to the table. Charles sat beside her, his hand resting lightly on hers as Isabel busied herself preparing the tea. The familiar sounds of the kitchen—the clink of dishes, the hiss of the kettle—were soothing, grounding her in the present.
When Isabel returned, she placed a steaming cup of tea and a plate of golden hearth cakes in front of Ariana, the scent instantly bringing back memories of simpler times. Ariana took a sip of the tea, the warmth spreading through her, and for the first time that morning, she felt a sense of calm settle over her.
“Thank you,” she murmured, looking up at Isabel with gratitude.
“You’re welcome, my child,” Isabel said softly, her voice filled with a love that needed no words.
Charles reached for her hand with a warm smile, and, with Isabel bustling around the kitchen, it felt like those mornings of her childhood, only now there was something deeper—an understanding, a hard-won bond between them that only time and distance had revealed. This was the most “normal” a morning had felt in a very long time.
~~~
As they ate, the conversation settled comfortably between them, the air filled with the warmth of shared laughter and familiar voices. Isabel moved about the kitchen with her usual graceful efficiency, preparing what seemed like a feast. Her father, Charles, leaned back in his chair, casting Ariana a gentle look. Away from the bustling crowd of the Hanged Man, his expression was softer, more open. After a pause, he hesitated, then ventured the question he had clearly been carrying.
“And… the Blight, Ariana. How did you… manage to get through it all?”
Ariana held his gaze for a moment, a slight hesitation in her own eyes before she answered. She had no intention of sharing the darker parts of her journey. Her father would never know about Krieger. That was a burden she refused to place on his shoulders, something she would carry alone. He would never forgive himself if he thought he had, even indirectly, been part of the reason for her suffering. So, she skirted around the worst parts, carefully shaping the story as she went.
“I was lucky,” she said, offering a slight smile. “A group of mercenaries found me, and I stayed with them for nearly a year, mostly keeping to the roads and dodging darkspawn. They were… good people.”
While Ariana told her story, Isabel watched, her perceptive gaze catching every nuance of Ariana’s tone and expression. It was her job to see the unspoken, to catch what others might miss. And she knew that Ariana was holding something back, something dark. She made a mental note to ask her someday when the moment was right, knowing that bottling up memories like that rarely ended well.
Suddenly, a sharp, plaintive cry rang out from another room, breaking through their conversation. Ariana looked around, momentarily bewildered. She hadn’t expected anyone else here, much less…a child?
Isabel paused, glancing over at Charles with a subtle question in her eyes. “By your leave, my lord?” she asked, her tone gentle but firm.
Charles nodded, waving a hand in acknowledgment. “Of course,” he replied, a small smile hinting at something unspoken.
Ariana watched Isabel disappear down the hall, eyebrows raised as she turned to her father, silently asking the question he had already anticipated.
Charles chuckled softly. “Before you get carried away with any wild theories,” he began, his voice low and warm, “it’s Isabel’s daughter. A little girl of about two years.”
Ariana’s eyes widened slightly, then softened. “Isabel… has a daughter?” She shook her head in mild amazement. After all these years, Isabel, the ever-reliable and devoted servant she had known since childhood, had a whole new life of her own—a daughter. She smiled, more to herself than to him, feeling an unexpected joy for her friend.
“Yes,” her father replied with an unnerving calmness, as though he were merely discussing household matters. “Probably your niece.” He said it as a matter of fact, though his certainty left only the slightest possibility of doubt.
Ariana choked on her tea, her mind stumbling over the implication. “What?” Her voice held a sharp edge. She knew exactly what that meant. Her oldest brother—her arrogant, entitled brother—was likely responsible, and worse still, she would probably never know if his so-called advances had been wanted.
Charles’s gaze softened, and he spoke as though prepared for her reaction. “Isabel will be staying here in Kirkwall to manage the estate.”
Ariana blinked, caught off guard, still processing the fact that Isabel might be family. “She…she will?”
“She will handle anything you need,” her father continued, his tone comforting but resolute. “Manage the household, oversee any necessities, and support you however you require. She has been fully entrusted with the management of your affairs here—including financial matters. All the paperwork is complete.”
Ariana sat there in stunned silence, struggling to fully absorb what he was saying. “The Kirkwall estate is now yours, Ariana,” he added, a smile spreading across his face. “The family will only visit if you want them to. This house is yours alone.”
Her father’s words filled her with a quiet astonishment. She had fought so hard for this freedom, but she hadn’t expected it to come with such finality and certainty.
“Mother will not disturb you again,” he assured her. “And the Duke and Duchess of Markham—consider that engagement dissolved. I had to call in a few favors, but it’s done. The Duke and Duchess will bother you no longer.”
Ariana could hardly breathe, let alone speak. The magnitude of her father’s efforts left her overwhelmed with gratitude. He had given her more than just an estate; he had given her back her life, her own future.
She finally managed to find her voice, her eyes meeting his, brimming with unspoken thanks. “Father… I don’t even know how to…thank you.”
He reached across the table, resting his hand gently over hers. “You don’t have to. All I’ve ever wanted was for you to live freely, Ariana.” He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, a hint of emotion filling his usually steady gaze.
~~~
Ariana’s heart felt lighter as she sat across from her father at the kitchen table, the scent of tea and hearth cakes filling the warm, sunlit space. The day had started with the sting of old wounds reopened, but here, with Charles and Isabel, the pain felt distant, soothed by the love and reassurance she hadn’t realized she still craved. Her father’s steady presence grounded her, a reminder of a life she had cherished and hadn’t wanted to lose.
Charles leaned back in his chair, his expression soft but tinged with a mischievous glint. “Actually,” he began, his tone turning playful, “there is a way you can thank me.”
Ariana raised an eyebrow, the corners of her mouth quirking up in curiosity. “Oh?”
“Why don’t you tell me a bit more about these… rumors I’ve been hearing?” His smirk widened slightly, and there was a teasing gleam in his eyes. “Something about a marriage proposal, perhaps?”
Ariana groaned, letting her head drop onto the table in mock surrender. “Ugh,” she muttered. Her voice muffled against the wood, she added, “I told him kneeling was a terrible idea…”
Charles’s laughter was warm and unrestrained. “Ah, so there was kneeling involved?” he teased, leaning forward, clearly enjoying himself. “And here I thought the rumors were exaggerating.”
Ariana sat up abruptly, her cheeks flushed, glaring at him. “Father…” she began, exasperated, but he was already speaking again.
“He seems like a good man,” Charles said, his tone turning reassuring. “And if the two of you found your way back to each other after all you’ve been through, then… that’s something worth holding on to.”
His words caught her off guard, a warmth spreading through her chest. She smiled softly, the weight of his approval settling over her like a comforting blanket. Whatever this was between her and Cullen, it felt like a step toward something unspoken but undeniable, and knowing her father saw it too made it feel even more real.
“And,” Charles added, his smirk returning, “you could do worse than marrying a Templar. A Knight-Captain at that. Probably Knight-Commander soon enough…”
Ariana groaned again, burying her face in her hands this time. “Maker help me…”
Charles laughed, clearly enjoying his ability to fluster her. After a moment, Ariana lifted her head, determined to change the subject. “Father… is Frederick truly still not married? Was there really an engagement to return to after all these years?”
Charles sighed, his smile fading slightly. “There was not… mostly,” he admitted. “You’d be correct in assuming Frederick remains unmarried.” His tone held a note of resignation, though there was also a hint of concern. “I know not the content of your letter to him when you left, but whatever you told him seems to have shifted his stance. He has refused every arrangement his mother has attempted since.”
Ariana chuckled softly, recalling the letter she’d written before fleeing Ostwick. “I simply told him he deserved to find someone who loved him, someone to share his burdens and lighten them…”
Charles’s expression softened, a hint of pride flickering in his eyes. “Well, it seems he took your advice to heart,” he said, though his tone carried a note of caution. “Or… he’s still in love with you and hasn’t looked elsewhere.”
Ariana blinked, startled. “You knew?”
“Everyone knew, my dear,” Charles replied, his voice gentle but matter-of-fact. “Just as everyone knew you didn’t feel the same.”
Ariana’s smile turned wistful, tinged with sadness. “There are times I wish I could have cared for him that way. He was my best friend.” She paused, her gaze distant. “It certainly would have made things easier for everyone…” She trailed off, her thoughts drifting to Cullen. The idea of a life without him felt unthinkable now, and she realized with certainty that whatever she’d felt for Frederick, it had never come close to the depth of what she felt for Cullen. He filled a part of her she hadn’t even known was missing.
Charles seemed to read her thoughts, his own smile turning knowing. “But then you wouldn’t have met your Knight-Captain,” he said softly. “I know it wasn’t an easy path, Ariana, but I do believe it was yours to walk.”
Ariana nodded, her smile growing. “Would you take a letter back to Frederick for me?” she asked tentatively. A part of her hoped there was still a friendship to rekindle.
“Of course,” Charles said with a nod, his voice steady. “I think he’d be glad to hear from you.”
“Come now,” Charles said, standing and offering her his arm, his tone light but tinged with affection. “Let’s go see if we left this library sufficiently stocked. And if not, what do you say to a little shopping, hmm?”
Ariana smiled, feeling a surge of gratitude for him. “Shopping for books?” she asked, her tone mockingly reluctant. “I suppose I can endure that,” she teased, slipping her arm through his.
“Endure it?” Charles scoffed, his eyebrow raising as they strolled toward the library. “I’ve never known you to ‘endure’ a bookstore. You practically take up residence.”
She laughed, the weight of the morning lifting with each step. “That sounds like a dangerous invitation. You might regret this when I fill the entire estate.”
Charles gave her an amused glance. “And why not? Fill the shelves, the walls if you like. Let’s make sure this place feels just as it should for you.”
The thought filled her with a simple joy. “Well then, let’s make sure we have room for every story worth telling,” she said, her smile softening. “And if we don’t…”
Charles chuckled, his eyes twinkling. “Then I say we do something about it.”
~~~
Charles couldn’t help but marvel at how much his daughter had grown. Walking arm in arm with her through Hightown, he felt a mix of pride and quiet sadness. She’d faced trials he could only imagine, surviving a Blight, forging her own path, and returning to Kirkwall not as the young girl he remembered but as a woman of remarkable strength and independence. Yet, as she excitedly pointed out a small bookshop she wanted to visit, there was a lightness to her, a trace of the curious and adventurous child she’d once been.
They spent the morning moving from one shop to another, Ariana’s enthusiasm contagious as she scanned the shelves, thumbing through worn pages and exclaiming over rare finds. Charles watched her with an indulgent smile, silently marveling at her resilience. She had faced more in her young life than most ever would, yet here she was, filled with curiosity and a renewed sense of joy. She had always been strong, he realized, but he doubted anyone—including himself—had ever truly appreciated the depth of it.
Their aide, laden with a cart of books, trailed behind them. Charles chuckled to himself, realizing Ariana had already collected enough to fill a small library. Yet he didn’t mind. These simple moments were what he’d missed most in her absence—the ease of their conversations, the way she brightened at the smallest discoveries, the quiet bond they shared.
As they neared the Chantry, the familiar figure of Cullen emerged from the heavy doors. Ariana’s hand tightened ever so slightly on his arm, and Charles glanced down to see the warm smile spreading across her face. It wasn’t the kind of smile she gave anyone else. It was softer, unguarded, filled with a happiness that made her glow.
Cullen, clad in full armor that gleamed in the fading light, looked every bit the knight of noble tales. Charles noted Ariana’s expression. He could see now at least in some small part the reason this man had captured his daughter’s heart.
“Knight-Captain,” Charles greeted him warmly as Cullen approached. “We were just on our way to Café d’Or. I’d be glad if you’d join us for dinner.”
Cullen hesitated, glancing at Ariana as though seeking her approval. “I wouldn’t want to intrude…” he began, but Charles waved the concern away with a smile.
“Nonsense. I insist.” His tone left no room for refusal, and Cullen nodded, his expression softening as he looked back at Ariana.
“Then I would be honored to join you,” Cullen said, his voice steady but warm.
Charles turned to their aide, giving a small wave of dismissal. “Please see to it that these books are taken to Isabel. She’ll know what to do with them,” he instructed.
As they strolled down the cobblestone street, Charles kept a close eye on the interaction between Cullen and his daughter. He noted the way Cullen’s gaze lingered on Ariana when she wasn’t looking, how he seemed attuned to her every movement. It was clear to Charles that Cullen cared deeply for her—just as she did for him.
“So… some light shopping today, then?” Cullen teased, glancing at the aide trailing behind them with a cart full of books.
Ariana laughed, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Just ensuring the library of my estate is properly stocked,” she said with mock seriousness, though her pride was evident.
As they continued, something seemed to strike her, and she suddenly dashed toward the aide. “Oh, Branar, wait!” she called, rifling through the stack of books until she pulled one free. She hurried back, holding it out to Cullen with an almost childlike excitement.
“I found this on Tevinter ruins,” she said, her words tumbling out as she flipped through the pages. “I think some of these markings match the ones near the cliffs. We have to go back and take a closer look!”
Cullen accepted the book, his smile growing as he watched her animatedly point to various illustrations. He didn’t even glance at the pages; his focus was entirely on her. Charles noticed it too, the way Cullen’s expression softened, full of warmth and admiration. It wasn’t hard to see why the whispers had started. She’s found her knight, Charles thought with quiet satisfaction. And the night before he had witnessed Cullen standing with her. Protecting her. He couldn’t ask for anything else.
Once they reached Café d’Or and settled at a table, Ariana launched into an enthusiastic recounting of the ruins they’d explored. She turned to her father, her eyes bright with excitement as she shared her theories, weaving connections between the Tevinter markings she’d just read about and the elven ruins Cullen had shown her near Lake Calenhad.
Charles leaned back in his chair, a fond smile on his face as he listened. It had been years since he had been able to spend an afternoon like this with his daughter. The weight she had carried for so long seemed lighter now, and he couldn’t help but marvel at her resilience. She had endured so much—far more than he ever should have allowed—and yet here she was, stronger and happier than he’d ever imagined.
Cullen, for his part, seemed captivated by her words, nodding thoughtfully and asking questions that encouraged her to continue. Charles noted how easily they complemented each other, their conversation flowing effortlessly. It was a comfort to him, knowing Ariana had found someone who not only supported her but celebrated her for exactly who she was.
As the evening went on, Charles found himself at peace for the first time in years. His daughter was home, happy, and surrounded by people who truly cared for her. And though he would always carry the guilt of the years she’d been forced to fend for herself, he couldn’t help but feel a quiet pride. Ariana had not only survived—she had thrived. She was stronger than anyone had ever given her credit for, and she had found her own path, one he was proud to walk alongside her.
~~~
After dinner, the three of them made their way back to the Trevelyan estate, strolling through Hightown under the soft glow of the street lanterns. Though the house loomed elegantly in the evening light, not all of it was ready to be lived in. Much of the furniture remained covered, and several rooms were still bare or in need of care, lending the grand estate an oddly incomplete feeling.
Wishing goodnight to her father, Ariana hesitated briefly, taking in the half-prepared halls. She wasn’t quite ready to make this place her home—not yet. Turning back to Cullen, she fell into step beside him, and together they continued down toward the Docks and the Hanged Man. She still had to gather her belongings from the tavern, though part of her wondered if she would miss the comfort of its noise and simplicity.
“So,” Cullen broke the quiet with a teasing lilt in his voice, his gaze flicking toward her as they strolled through the softly lit streets. “An estate, in Hightown?” His eyebrows raised, amusement dancing in his expression. “Care to tell me how that came to be?”
Ariana chuckled lightly, feigning a casual shrug. “Oh, you know… my father thought I needed a place to stay.”
Cullen tilted his head, clearly not buying her nonchalance. “Sounds more like he thought you needed a castle of your own.”
“Castle might be pushing it,” she replied, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “It’s small compared to our manor in Ostwick. That’ll go to my idiot eldest brother as the ‘future head of the family.’” Her tone soured slightly, her annoyance slipping through as her thoughts briefly turned darker. She frowned, her mind snagging on the likelihood of what Mark might have done. No… she shouldn’t think about it now. She would need to talk to Isabel at some point, but not yet.
“Want to tell me about it?” Cullen asked gently, his concern genuine. Seemingly noticing the way her smile faded and her steps slowed ever so slightly.
Ariana sighed heavily, the weight of her thoughts clear in the sound. “Yes,” she admitted, though her voice was quieter now. “But not quite yet… not until I’m sure. Wouldn’t want to go starting rumors myself…” She trailed off, shaking her head as if to physically dismiss the lingering unease.
Deciding to shift the mood, she glanced up at him with a mischievous glint in her eye, a teasing grin replacing her earlier frown. “Speaking of rumors…”
Cullen laughed softly “Yes…?”
“My father heard an… interesting rumor…” she said, her grin widening as she let the sentence hang in the air, her eyes searching his for a reaction.
Cullen’s amusement flickered into something more guarded, though he chuckled “Is that so?” he asked, his voice calm but betraying a hint of hesitation
Ariana’s smiled, noticing that despite trying to hide it she had managed to make Cullen slightly uncomfortable.
“There was apparently a marriage proposal in the middle of Hightown yesterday…” Ariana said, her tone laced with mock indignation. Her feigned annoyance was betrayed by the faint smirk tugging at her lips, amused by how right she had been about the rumors.
Cullen chuckled softly, shaking his head as they continued walking. “Someone is always watching,” he replied, his voice carrying a hint of resigned humor. He shrugged, the motion casual, but the smile he gave her was warm and unbothered. “Let them.”