27 Haring 9:33 – 8 Wintermarch 9:34
The journey back to the Ranger manor was uneventful, but Ariana’s mind was anything but calm. The Divine’s words lingered in her mind like a haunting refrain. “But if the rumors are true,” the Divine had said, “if innocent mages are being subjected to Tranquility without cause, I cannot turn a blind eye.” Ariana’s stomach twisted at the memory.
She sighed, her breath visible in the cold evening air as the manor came into view. It stood stoic against the backdrop of the forest, a haven for the Silver Rangers yet brimming with the weight of responsibility. She dismounted, handing the reins to a stablehand before making her way inside.
She found Riley in the main hall, standing by the fireplace, arms crossed. The flickering flames painted her sharp features in gold and shadow. Ariana paused for a moment, observing her lieutenant. Riley’s expression was as unreadable as ever, though the tension in her posture was clear. She’d been waiting.
“So,” Riley said, breaking the silence, her tone clipped, “did you get what you went for in Val Royeaux?”
Ariana shrugged, dropping her pack onto a nearby table. “That depends,” she replied, her voice carefully neutral. “Are you asking if I learned anything or if it was worth the trip?”
Riley’s eyes narrowed. “If it was worth the trip. And whether I need to start bracing myself for the storm you’re about to bring back here.”
Ariana let out a quiet laugh, though there was little humor in it. She poured two glasses of whiskey and handed one to Riley. “No faith in me, Riley?”
Riley took the glass but didn’t drink, her piercing gaze fixed on Ariana. “Plenty of faith in you,” she said, her tone dry. “Especially in your ability to find trouble.”
Ariana’s lips quirked into a faint smile, but the humor didn’t last long. As the whiskey warmed her throat, she laid everything out—the Divine’s request, the rumors of Tranquility’s overuse, and the call for the Rangers to intercept mages bound for Kirkwall.
Riley’s reaction was immediate. “You what?” Her voice sliced through the room, echoing off the wooden beams. She planted her hands firmly on the table, her knuckles whitening. “Tell me you didn’t just commit us to defying the Templar Order!”
Ariana’s calm exterior remained intact, but inside, her thoughts swirled. “No one said anything about open defiance,” she replied, her voice cool but steady. “The Divine needs someone to help—discreetly.”
Riley’s laugh was bitter, almost disbelieving. “Discreet? The Rangers? We rebuild towns, escort caravans, and protect refugees. We’re not assassins, Wolf. And now you want us to smuggle mages out from under the Templars’ noses? Do you have any idea what you’re risking?”
Ariana took a deep breath, her expression softening as she met Riley’s gaze. She understood her lieutenant’s reaction. Truthfully, she’d had the same one when the Divine first laid the request before her. But now, the weight of the task had settled into clarity. “I’m risking everything, Riley,” she said quietly, “I know the dangers, and I don’t take them lightly. But is this not exactly what we vowed to do? To help those who have no other means? Mages subjected to a fate worse than death… do we just stand by?”
Riley straightened, rubbing her temples as she paced the room. “And how exactly are you planning to handle this?” She stopped abruptly, her eyes narrowing. “Wait… aren’t you involved with Kirkwall’s Knight-Captain? How exactly are you going to handle that?”
Ariana stiffened, Riley’s question striking a nerve she hadn’t fully admitted to herself. The tension in her chest tightened, and for a moment, she didn’t respond. Finally, she met Riley’s gaze, her tone clipped. “That’s my concern to deal with. Cullen doesn’t need to know, and he won’t. We’re going to be careful.”
Riley shook her head, pacing in front of the fire. “Careful doesn’t mean safe, Wolf. This is dangerous, even for us. If we’re caught, the Templars will label us as traitors and hunt us down. Do you really think it’s worth the risk?”
Ariana’s voice hardened. “Yes, Riley. It’s worth it if it means saving innocents from a fate they don’t deserve. Isn’t that what the Rangers stand for?”
Riley stopped pacing, her jaw tight. For a moment, the only sound was the crackle of the fire. Then she sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Fine,” she said, her voice quieter but no less tense. “What’s the plan?”
Ariana set her glass down, her expression resolute. “We’ll need scouts in Kirkwall. People who can blend in, gather information without drawing attention. I want escape routes mapped and secured. If we need to move mages, it has to be seamless. We’ll need recruits. And… I’ll need someone I can trust to oversee it all in Kirkwall.”
Riley studied her for a moment before nodding. “Fine. But if this goes sideways, you’d better have a backup plan.”
Ariana offered a faint, humorless smile. “When do I not?”
Riley smirked, though the tension in her shoulders didn’t ease. “Alright, Wolf. Let’s get to work.”
As Riley left to begin preparations, Ariana sank into a chair by the fire, the weight of her decisions pressing down on her. She couldn’t shake the thought of Cullen—the look in his eyes the night before when she’d defended the Rangers. His trust in her was fragile, and if he ever found out the truth… she closed her eyes, a pang of guilt slicing through her. Hiding the truth from Cullen wasn’t just a strategy—it was a necessity. And yet, the thought of lying to him, of keeping this part of herself hidden, felt like a betrayal. One she wasn’t sure he’d ever forgive.
~~~
“Dinner was wonderful, thank you, Isabel,” Cullen said, leaning back in his chair as Isabel collected his plate.
“My pleasure, Cullen. To be honest, Emma and I are glad for the company. If you weren’t coming by for dinner these days, it would have been quite lonely without Ariana here.” Isabel gave him a teasing smile. “And Emma has taken quite the shine to you, Knight-Captain,” she added, her tone playful but her nod grateful.
Cullen managed a small chuckle, though his heart wasn’t entirely in it. Ariana had been gone for almost a month and a half. She’d said a few weeks. How long could traveling to Val Royeaux and back possibly take…? He couldn’t shake the worry that had settled in his chest. No word from her. Not to him, not to Isabel, and even Varric had heard nothing. He had just gotten her back and now she had disappeared again.
The year was winding down, and the winter chill in Kirkwall seemed to echo the emptiness he felt without her. He had little to look forward to when she wasn’t here. And though he was grateful Isabel had reached out to him after Ariana left, inviting him to dinner, it only dulled the ache for so long.
The only thing keeping his mind somewhat occupied was the recent escalation in tensions with the Qunari. Fanatics had stolen what they thought was the formula for gaatlok, their explosive gunpowder, but instead made off with the recipe for saar-qamek—a poison gas that drove non-Qunari insane before killing them. If not for Hawke’s intervention, all of Lowtown could have been lost.
The thought hit him like a blow to the chest. What if Ariana had been in Lowtown that day? He could have lost her without even knowing she was in danger. He clenched his jaw, shaking off the grim thought.
“Isabel, have you heard anything?” he asked, his voice betraying the worry he couldn’t quite mask. “Any word from her?”
Isabel sighed, setting the plates aside before turning back to him. “Nothing yet, my dear boy, though I imagine the journey to Val Royeaux was taxing. And you know how Orlesian nobles can be…” She trailed off, a faint smirk playing on her lips.
“Or maybe, for a mercy, you don’t,” she added with a soft laugh.
Cullen smiled faintly, grateful for the lightness she brought to the conversation. “Can’t say I’ve had too many of those to deal with,” he admitted.
Isabel quirked an eyebrow, studying him. “And how are things at the Gallows? I hear there have been… recent upsets.” Her tone was careful, though her curiosity was evident.
Cullen narrowed his eyes slightly, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “From Hawke or Varric, I assume?”
Isabel shrugged, not confirming nor denying. “You know how news travels in this city.”
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “A recently murdered Templar had requested the Rite of Tranquility be applied more widely before his death. The request was denied but, of course, Hawke got involved anyway and started investigating. That seems to be her specialty.”
Isabel tilted her head, her expression disarming yet thoughtful. “And do you believe that would have been the right thing to do? Applying the Rite more widely, I mean.”
Cullen paused, clearly weighing his words. “There’s a case to be made for it,” he admitted. “But ultimately, I believe the Harrowing has served the Order well enough for centuries. A change that drastic seems… unnecessary.”
Isabel quirked an eyebrow, studying him. “And what of Hawke? Do you think things in the city would be better if she weren’t getting involved in all these matters?”
Cullen sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I won’t deny that she’s done a lot of good,” he admitted, his frustration evident. “But sometimes… sometimes I wish she would leave Templar and Circle matters to us. It complicates things when someone outside the Order interferes.”
She nodded slowly, sensing his internal conflict. The conversation drifted for a while, meandering through idle remarks about the chill in the air and the latest gossip in Hightown, before Cullen finally spoke again, his tone more tentative.
“Isabel, do you know how these Silver Rangers are tied to Ariana?” he asked carefully, not wanting to overstep but unable to suppress his curiosity. He wasn’t sure if Isabel knew about the argument he and Ariana had before she left, but the question had been nagging at him since then.
Isabel set the plates aside and turned to him fully, her gaze steady. “That’s Ariana’s story to tell,” she said gently. “But what I can say is this: I know some of their members saved her life. She was cornered by darkspawn, and without their intervention…” She trailed off, letting the implication hang in the air.
Cullen nodded, though the answer only left him with more questions. “I understand, and I am grateful to them for saving her life. But I still cannot see how you trust an organization without proper accountability.”
Isabel raised an eyebrow, setting her cup down with a quiet clink. “Accountability, Cullen, cannot always be relied upon. Every institution, be it governments, the Chantry, the Templars, or armies, is only as honorable and accountable as the people in charge of it. Titles and systems don’t guarantee virtue.”
Cullen considered her words, a flicker of doubt crossing his features. He sighed heavily, his thoughts returning to Ariana and their last conversation. “Maybe. But even knowing that, I still struggle to reconcile it.”
Isabel leaned back slightly, her tone softening. “If you care for her, and I know you do, then you both need to talk this through. Not just argue about it, but really talk. Otherwise, this will only fester.”
Cullen’s gaze dropped, the weight of her suggestion sinking in. “I care for her more than I even thought possible,” he murmured, almost to himself, not quite realizing he had spoken aloud.
Isabel’s expression softened further, her eyes warm with understanding. She didn’t say anything, only gave him a knowing, caring look that spoke volumes. Cullen, realizing what he’d just admitted, cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair, but Isabel didn’t press. Some truths needed no further comment.
~~~
The journey back to Kirkwall was steady, the chill of Wintermarch biting at Ariana’s skin as her horse trotted alongside her companions. Valentina rode slightly ahead, her sharp eyes scanning the frost-covered horizon, while Lamberto and Linnea followed closely behind, their conversation a low hum that blended with the sound of hooves crunching against the icy ground. Members of the Vanguard had been handpicked for this mission, their skills as scouts and trainers essential for the tasks ahead in Kirkwall.
Ariana glanced over her shoulder at them, her voice breaking the quiet. “You’ve all been briefed, but I’ll say it again for clarity’s sake. Once we reach Kirkwall, our priorities are twofold: gathering intelligence and recruiting new Rangers. Valentina, you’ll handle the recruits, assessing their skills and potential. Lamberto, you’ll oversee training—keep it quiet, keep it efficient. And Linnea…” She turned her gaze to meet hers, her tone carrying the weight of trust. “You’ll continue gathering information and coordinating all the intelligence we get. Keep a close eye on the docks and Lowtown. Anything suspicious—smuggling, unusual troop movements, whispers about mages or Templars—I want it all on my desk.”
Linnea nodded, her expression cool and focused. “Understood, Wolf. I’ll make sure nothing slips through the cracks.”
“Good,” Ariana said, her gaze sweeping over the three of them. “This will require all of us to act as scouts, blending in and keeping our ears open. Subtlety is key. We’re not here to make waves—just ripples.”
The Vanguard exchanged firm nods, their shared determination evident.
They pressed on, the frost-tipped path winding through the quiet landscape. As the sun began to dip lower, Ariana caught sight of a group of Templars escorting a chained mage in the distance. Her body tensed, her instincts sharpening. She slowed her horse, raising a hand to signal the others to do the same.
“What is it?” Valentina asked, her voice low.
Ariana didn’t answer immediately. Her sharp eyes caught a familiar figure among the Templars, his stance and stride unmistakable. “Continue ahead without me,” she said, her voice steady but firm. “I’ll catch up.”
The Vanguard hesitated but obeyed, exchanging glances before urging their horses forward, leaving Ariana to approach the group alone.
As she drew closer, her pulse quickened. Michael. Of all the roads in Ferelden, of course, it had to be this one. His expression mirrored her shock, though it quickly shifted to something closer to disbelief. For a moment, neither spoke, the silence broken only by the rhythmic clinking of the mage’s chains and the crunch of boots against frozen earth.
“Michael,” Ariana said at last, her voice carefully neutral. “Well, this is… unexpected.”
Michael stepped forward, his gaze scanning her attire and the faintly regal bearing she carried. “Ariana? Is it really you?” His tone was laden with disbelief, as though the confident woman before him was a stranger compared to the sister he remembered.
“Alive and well, as you can see,” she replied coolly. “And you? Still stationed in Ferelden?”
“I am.” Michael’s brow furrowed, his hand instinctively resting on the hilt of his sword. “Where have you been? All this time, what happened to you?”
One of the other Templars, clearly uneasy, interrupted. “Ser, is this someone we need to detain?”
Michael’s eyes flashed with irritation. “No. She’s my sister.”
The Templar’s skepticism was evident, his gaze darting between them. “She doesn’t look like someone who’s been holed up in Ostwick.”
“No, I suppose I don’t,” Ariana interjected smoothly, her eyes flicking to the mage in chains. “Kinloch Hold?” she asked, gesturing toward the captive with a nod.
Michael’s jaw tightened, but he nodded. “Yes. And you’ve taken an interest in Circle affairs now?”
“Hardly,” she replied, her tone dry. “I would have expected you to leave Ferelden after the Blight.”
Michael hesitated before responding. “I could say the same about you. You’ve a knack for disappearing.” His voice carried a faint edge of accusation, softened only by the flicker of sibling concern in his eyes. “Father—”
“Knows exactly where I’ve been,” Ariana interrupted, her tone firm but not unkind. “And before you ask, no, I’m not coming back. Not to Ostwick, not to the Chantry, and certainly not to whatever path Mother thinks was meant for me.”
Michael’s shoulders sagged slightly, and for a moment, he looked less like a Templar and more like the brother she remembered. “You could have at least told me you were alive.”
Ariana’s expression softened, and she sighed. “Surviving the Blight alone on the road wasn’t exactly conducive to writing letters. For what it’s worth, Father only found out I was alive a few months ago. But… we’re here now.”
The other Templar shifted uncomfortably, clearly eager to end the reunion. “Ser, we need to keep moving,” he said, nodding toward the mage.
Ariana didn’t want to leave things like this. She dismounted, stepping closer to Michael and wrapping him in a warm embrace. “You’re my brother. I’ll always love you. Be careful.”
Michael stiffened for a moment, then relaxed, his hand briefly resting on her shoulder. When she pulled back, his expression was conflicted, torn between relief and something heavier. “Just… stay safe. The roads aren’t kind these days.”
Ariana nodded, her gaze lingering on him for a moment before she responded, her tone carrying a faint barb. “You too. And maybe next time, less chains.”
Without waiting for a reply, she mounted her horse and trotted back toward the road where the Vanguard awaited. As she rejoined them, her thoughts churned. The brief encounter stirred memories and emotions she thought she had buried. Unexpected, indeed.
~~~
The rest of the journey was uneventful, though the encounter with Michael lingered in her thoughts, a ghost of past tensions yet maybe someday they could find a way forward. By the time Kirkwall’s towering black walls loomed into view, she pushed the memory aside, focusing on the present. She had made it back with just enough time to prepare for Cullen’s birthday, and the thought brought a smile to her face. She had missed him more than she cared to admit.
As the ship glided into the harbor, Ariana’s mood shifted. The oppressive black of the city’s walls seemed to mirror her unease. The sight of Templars moving through the docks made her stomach twist. The silver of their armor was a stark contrast to the grime of Lowtown, a reminder of their ever-looming presence. And then she saw him—Cullen, among the group, his golden hair catching the late afternoon light.
Maker’s breath, that’s… not good, Ariana thought, a flicker of alarm flashing across her face. She couldn’t let him see her—not like this, not while she was accompanied by Valentina, Lamberto, and Linnea. And not wearing this, she realized grimly, cursing her decision to don her white cloak. Of all days to stand out like a beacon.
She turned abruptly, her back to the docks, her mind racing. Tugging her hood up to shield her face, she motioned for her group to do the same.
“Wolf, is something the matter?” Lamberto asked, his tone low and calm but tinged with confusion. It wasn’t often he saw her truly rattled.
“I know one of the Templars at the docks,” Ariana replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “He can’t know who I am. If he does, we’ll have more than a wave—we’ll have a storm.”
Her composure was steady, but the undercurrent of urgency in her voice made the others react instantly. Valentina, Lamberto, and Linnea exchanged quick glances, their trust in her absolute.
“We disembark quickly, quietly, and get out of sight as soon as possible,” she continued, her tone sharp and commanding. “Follow me. Hoods up. No mistakes.”
“By your order, Wolf,” Lamberto replied, his voice firm, echoing the unspoken unity of the Vanguard.
The four of them moved with practiced precision, gathering their belongings as the ship docked. Ariana led the way, her movements fluid, her steps light as they descended onto the docks. Her heart raced as she darted a glance back at Cullen. He wasn’t looking her way yet, but she could feel the weight of his presence like a tether pulling her closer. She couldn’t risk it.
Pausing briefly, she handed a small pouch of coins to a dockhand, her voice low but firm. “Take these to Hightown. Be thorough. And take your time.” She slipped him another coin, leaning in to whisper, “And make sure no one follows you.”
The dockhand nodded, hurrying off with her belongings. Ariana turned back to her group, ready to move, when Cullen’s voice rang out across the bustling docks.
“Hold a moment!”
She froze, her breath catching. Her pulse thundered in her ears, but she forced herself to stay calm. The tone in his voice didn’t suggest recognition—it was an order, not familiarity. Still, she couldn’t risk it. Her mind raced, and she turned slightly, catching a glimpse of him from beneath her hood. He was closer than she’d like but still far enough for her to act.
“Handle this,” she whispered to Valentina, her voice firm and steady. “If he asks why we’re here, tell him we have a contract in Starkhaven.”
Valentina smirked, her hand brushing lightly against the hilt of her dagger. “And if he asks why you left?”
Ariana allowed herself a small, wry smile. “The Wolf doesn’t meet just anyone. Meet me at the Hanged Man when you’re done. Make sure you’re not followed.”
Valentina nodded, her smirk widening. “Understood.”
Without another word, Ariana slipped into the shadows of an alley, her movements quick and deliberate. She trusted Valentina to handle the rest, her mind already focused on the next steps. She couldn’t afford to be reckless, not now.
~~~
Cullen stood near the docks, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows over the bustling harbor. He adjusted the strap of his sword as he spoke to the two Templars beside him, outlining the evening patrols. “Make sure to keep an eye on the taverns near Lowtown,” he said firmly. “We’ve had more reports of trouble near the Hanged Man.”
“Yes, Knight-Captain,” one of them replied, nodding.
Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of a dockhand fumbling with a heavy trunk, its awkward thuds on the wooden planks cutting through the din of the harbor. Cullen’s gaze shifted instinctively toward the sound, his sharp eyes landing on a group of cloaked figures disembarking from a ship. Most were inconspicuous, but one stood out immediately—a figure cloaked in white.
His brow furrowed, his breath catching for a moment. The stories swirled in his mind unbidden, tales he didn’t particularly enjoy recalling. The white cloak trimmed with fur could only mean one thing. “Is that…?” he murmured aloud, his voice trailing off.
One of the Templars beside him followed his line of sight, his eyes widening in recognition. “The White Wolf?” he whispered, awe creeping into his tone.
Another Templar, younger and less reserved, straightened visibly. “Here? In Kirkwall? Maker’s breath…”
Cullen’s jaw tightened. Unlike some of his men, he didn’t share their admiration for the so-called White Wolf. To him, the tales were just that—tales. Stories that glorified mercenaries and encouraged reckless hero worship. Still, the sight of the figure in the white cloak stirred something deeper—a curiosity he couldn’t ignore.
“Hold a moment!” Cullen called out, his voice cutting through the noise of the docks. He stepped forward, his gaze locked on the group as the figures paused.
One of them, a woman with sharp eyes and a confident bearing, turned and stepped forward to meet him. Her cloak was dark, her hood pulled low, but there was an unmistakable air of control about her. She positioned herself deliberately between Cullen and the alley where the white-cloaked figure had disappeared.
“Knight-Captain,” the woman said smoothly, her tone even and polite but with a hint of amusement. “Is there something we can help you with?”
“Who are you?” Cullen asked, his tone sharp as his eyes scanned the group. “And why did that one leave so quickly?” He gestured toward the alley, suspicion clear in his voice.
The woman offered a faint smile, her demeanor unshaken. “The Wolf doesn’t meet just anyone,” she said simply, her words carrying a weight that made Cullen’s jaw tighten further.
“The White Wolf?” one of the younger Templars behind him whispered, his awe unabated.
Cullen ignored the murmurs and took a step closer, his gaze narrowing. “And what exactly are you hiding?” he asked, his voice low but insistent.
The woman tilted her head slightly, her smirk widening. “Nothing worth your trouble, Knight-Captain,” she replied, her tone almost teasing. “We’re here on a contract for Starkhaven. That’s all you need to know.”
Cullen’s frown deepened, the accent, the look. Antivan Crows. Of course, their reputation preceded them, though not in any way he trusted. Then there was the matter of how Antivan Crows were connected to the Silver Rangers, to the White Wolf. “What does the White Wolf have to do with the Crows?” he asked, his tone sharp, his eyes narrowing on the woman before him.
Valentina shrugged casually, the motion almost dismissive. “The Wolf is familiar with the area,” she replied, her voice calm. “And our target. That’s all.”
Her words struck a nerve, but Cullen held his ground, his suspicion mounting. He glanced toward the alley again, his instincts urging him to pursue. But something in the woman’s confidence gave him pause. She was clearly skilled—more than capable of holding her own, even against him and his Templars. And she knew exactly how to say just enough without truly revealing anything.
Finally, after a tense moment, Cullen exhaled sharply and stepped back. “You’d do well to stay out of trouble,” he said curtly, his voice laced with warning.
“Always,” the woman replied, dipping her head slightly in mock politeness before turning back to rejoin her group.
Cullen’s gaze lingered on the alley for a moment longer before he turned back to his men, frustration simmering beneath his composed exterior. Whatever game the White Wolf was playing, he wasn’t sure he liked being a part of it—even from a distance. But for now, he had no choice but to let it go. This was a problem for the City Guard.
“Let’s move,” he said shortly, leading the Templars away from the docks. But his thoughts remained on the figure in white, and the unsettling sense that this encounter was far from over.
~~~
Ariana quickly made her way through the bustling streets of Lowtown, her mind racing. She needed to shed the cloak and find a way to separate Ariana from the White Wolf. If she could sit with Varric for a while, it would seem natural—like she’d come straight to the Hanged Man from the docks without any detours. The less overlap between her two lives, the better.
As she slipped into the familiar warmth of the Hanged Man, she paused briefly at the bar. “Corff,” she said quietly, leaning over the counter. “Three cloaked figures will be coming through soon. Send them to Varric’s suite.”
Corff nodded without hesitation, used to her cryptic instructions. “Will do.”
“Thanks.” With that, she made her way upstairs, her steps quick and quiet. Reaching Varric’s suite, she opened the door, stepping inside and shutting it firmly behind her. She turned—and immediately cursed herself under her breath.
Varric and Hawke turned to look at the cloaked figure standing in the doorway, their conversation halted. Ariana froze, her face hidden beneath the hood. Of course, Hawke had to be here. Between Hawke finding out and Cullen… she’d take Hawke any day. Still, this wasn’t the reveal she had planned.
“Well,” Varric said, a knowing smirk spreading across his face as he leaned back in his chair. “If it isn’t the White Wolf herself. Welcome back, pup!”
Ariana let out a long sigh, tugging the hood back and running a hand through her hair. “Varric…”
Hawke blinked, their brow furrowing before realization dawned. “Wait… what?” she said slowly, her gaze moving between Ariana and Varric. “You’re the White Wolf?” Her expression shifted, now laced with understanding. “Well, that explains everything.”
Ariana rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath as she stepped further into the room. “Great. So long as it doesn’t leave this room.”
Varric chuckled, gesturing to the space around them. “My lips are sealed, pup. And Hawke? Well, she’s better at keeping secrets than most. Aren’t you, Hawke?”
Hawke snorted, crossing her arms. “I’ve kept worse,” she replied with a wry grin.
Ignoring their banter, Ariana shrugged off the white cloak, folding it hurriedly and stuffing it into a chest Varric kept by the wall. The less it was seen, the better. She straightened, taking a moment to compose herself before turning back to the two of them.
“Well,” Varric said, tilting his head and observing her carefully, “looks like you’ve had quite the trip. Care to share what’s been going on, or are you just here to drink?”
Ariana hesitated, considering her words carefully. “Both,” she admitted finally, dropping into a chair across from them. “But first, let’s keep this simple—if anyone asks, I’ve been here all afternoon.”
Hawke raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Oh, this is going to be good.”
Ariana groaned, already regretting her decision to come here. “Just… let’s not make it more complicated than it needs to be, alright?” She glanced at Varric, who was watching her with that ever-perceptive gaze of his. “And maybe pour me something strong while you’re at it.”
Varric grinned, already reaching for a bottle. “You’ve got it, pup. But I’m expecting a very good story in return.”
Ariana sighed, rubbing her temples. “You’ll get your story,” she muttered. “Just not the one you’re hoping for.”
~~~
Ariana leaned back in the chair, letting out a deep breath as Varric poured her a drink. Hawke sat across from her, arms crossed, her expression expectant.
“So,” Varric began, sliding the glass across the table to her, “are you going to tell us why you look like you’ve been chased through half of Kirkwall?”
Ariana took a sip of the whiskey, letting its warmth calm her nerves before setting the glass down. “Cullen,” she said simply.
Both Varric and Hawke exchanged glances, and Hawke raised an eyebrow. “Cullen?” they echoed in unison.
She sighed. “He almost caught me at the docks. White cloak, Rangers, everything. I didn’t think he’d be there, but apparently, the Templars decided to patrol the docks at just the wrong moment.”
Varric chuckled, shaking his head. “And let me guess—you pulled a vanishing act?”
“Not before getting my Rangers to cover for me,” she replied, her tone dry.
Hawke laughed, leaning forward. “So, what now?”
“Some of the Rangers are on their way here,” Ariana said, her voice turning serious. “I need a place for them to lay low until I can arrange something more permanent.”
Varric nodded, already rising from his seat. “Say no more, pup. I’ll talk to Corff, make sure your people are taken care of. Back in a bit.” He grabbed his coat and headed out, leaving Ariana and Hawke alone.
Hawke tilted her head, watching her closely. “You’re clearly starting something here, you sure you can keep this a secret from your devoted Templar?”
“I… have no idea,” Ariana muttered, taking another sip of her drink.
Before long, the door opened again, and Varric stepped back inside, followed by Valentina, Lamberto, and Linnea. Each of them pulled their hoods down, revealing tired but alert faces.
Ariana stood, gesturing to them. “Discard the cloaks. We don’t need to draw more attention than we already have.”
The three quickly complied, folding their cloaks and setting them aside. Once they were done, Ariana turned to Varric and Hawke. “Varric, Hawke, meet Valentina, Lamberto, and Linnea. They’re some of my top Rangers. Valentina will be handling recruitment, Lamberto will oversee training, and Linnea will be gathering intelligence.”
Hawke gave them a friendly nod. “Impressive. You all seem well-versed in the art of staying unnoticed.”
Valentina smirked. “It’s what we’re paid for.”
Ariana crossed her arms, her tone turning more serious. “Were you followed?”
Linnea shook her head. “No. We made sure of that. Though the Knight-Captain was… persistent.”
“What exactly did he say?” Ariana asked, her gaze narrowing slightly.
Valentina stepped forward with a smirk, arms crossed. “Oh, he wasn’t thrilled, let me tell you that. First, he noticed the cloak—hard not to—and immediately wondered why you left so quickly. He asked us directly, but I made it clear the Wolf doesn’t meet just anyone. Implied we were a group of Crows on a contract in Starkhaven.” She paused, her smirk growing. “He didn’t seem to appreciate the deflection.”
Varric chuckled, shaking his head. “Poor Templar. You probably going to give him a sleepless night trying to figure that one out.”
Ariana rolled her eyes. “More likely he’ll be angry that I slipped past him.” She glanced at Valentina. “Good work, though. We didn’t need him piecing anything together.”
Varric leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “So, what’s the plan, pup? You’ve got your Rangers here, but I’m guessing this is more than just a simple visit.”
Ariana glanced at her team, then back at Varric and Hawke. “The plan is to lie low for now. I’ll find somewhere for them to stay and start organizing. But first, I need to figure out how to get back to Cullen without making this whole thing look suspicious.”
Hawke grinned. “Good luck with that. You’ve probably already got half the city wondering what you’re up to. I imagine the White Wolf doesn’t go unnoticed.”
Ariana rolled her eyes, but a small smile tugged at her lips. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Hawke.”
The group exchanged knowing looks, and for a brief moment, the tension in the room eased as the conversation turned to lighter topics. But Ariana’s mind remained focused on the tasks ahead, already piecing together the next steps.