12-13 Wintermarch 9:34
The soft golden light of morning filtered through the estate’s windows, casting a warm glow across the dining room. Ariana had risen early, ensuring everything was ready before Cullen arrived. The table was set simply but thoughtfully—freshly baked bread, cured meats, cheese, and a pot of steaming tea. A small bouquet of wildflowers sat in the center, their soft blues and whites a subtle nod to Cullen’s homeland.
She heard his footsteps before she saw him, the familiar rhythm bringing a small smile to her lips. As he entered the room, her heart lifted. He looked slightly disheveled, his golden hair still tousled from sleep, but his expression softened the moment he saw her.
“Good morning,” Ariana greeted, her voice light and warm.
Cullen paused, taking in the scene before him. “You’ve been busy,” he said, his tone teasing but laced with affection. “This looks… far more organized than my usual mornings.”
Ariana laughed softly, gesturing for him to sit. “Well, it’s not every day someone turns twenty-four,” she replied, a playful glint in her eye as she slid into the chair across from him.
Cullen chuckled, shaking his head as he sat. “I see you’re enjoying this far more than I expected.”
She grinned, pouring tea into their cups. “Someone has to make a fuss over you. Maker knows you wouldn’t do it yourself.”
As they began eating, the easy banter between them softened into comfortable silence. Ariana watched him from the corner of her eye, her mind turning over the small box she’d carefully hidden behind her chair. She waited until he reached for his second cup of tea before speaking.
“I have something for you,” she said, her tone casual but her eyes betraying a flicker of nervousness.
She nodded, stepping closer to him. “I know you already knew where they were, but… I wrote to them while I was away. I told them it was for your birthday, and they sent these.”
He took the box carefully, his fingers brushing against hers. Opening it slowly, he saw a neat stack of letters tied with a ribbon. His thumb brushed the topmost envelope, immediately recognizing Mia’s handwriting. His throat tightened as he stared at the letters, his emotions swirling.
“Since I stopped in Ferelden on my last trip,” she said quietly, her gaze steady on his face. “I reached out to Mia. She was more than happy to help. I just… thought you might want to hear from them. She did ask that you write back this time…”
Cullen didn’t respond immediately, his thumb brushing over the edges of the letters as though they might vanish if he wasn’t careful. He swallowed hard, his golden eyes shimmering with unspoken gratitude.
“Mia has written to me before,” he admitted after a moment. “But I… I never replied much. Not as much as I should have.”
Ariana watched him carefully, her own heart aching at the vulnerability in his tone. “I did not know about your parents,” she said softly, her voice laced with sorrow. “I am so sorry, Cullen. I… I didn’t know they had died during the Blight.”
He looked up at her, the grief he carried well hidden behind his usual calm exterior flickering in his eyes. “You didn’t need to know,” he replied gently. “You did so much for them already, going to Honnleath to warn them before anyone else. I didn’t want you to feel any burden for what happened.”
Her brow furrowed as she stepped closer. “It’s not a burden, Cullen. I cared for them too. They… they were kind to me when they didn’t even know me.”
He managed a small smile, his voice softening. “At least you got to meet them. I know they would be happy… that we’re here together again.”
Ariana gave him a small smile, her hands clasping around her teacup. “You should read them,” she encouraged gently. “I’ll… give you some privacy if you’d like.”
“No,” Cullen said quickly, shaking his head. “Stay. Please.” His gaze met hers, warm and open. “I want you here.”
She nodded, her chest tightening as she watched him untie the ribbon and open the first letter. The room fell into a quiet hush as he began to read. His eyes moved over the words with a reverence that made her chest ache. Occasionally, his lips twitched upward in a faint smile, or his brow furrowed as he processed the contents. He read a passage aloud from Mia’s letter, her words full of teasing affection, and Ariana found herself smiling along with him.
“She’s still as sharp as ever,” he murmured, skimming the lines. Then he paused, the faintest flush creeping up his neck. “Oh, Maker.”
“What is it?” Ariana asked, tilting her head.
He cleared his throat, his golden eyes flicking up to meet hers, a mixture of amusement and embarrassment on his face. “She said—well, she said she was right all along,” he admitted reluctantly. “About us. Apparently, she wasn’t convinced we were ‘just friends’ when you visited before the Blight.”
Ariana burst into laughter, the sound bright and unrestrained. “Yes, well, I think it was obvious to everyone even back then” she teased, leaning back in her chair.
Cullen chuckled, shaking his head as he continued reading. “She also claims I owe her an apology for denying it so fervently.”
“She’s not wrong,” Ariana said, her tone playful. “You should write back and admit it.”
He shot her a mock glare but couldn’t suppress his grin. “I would never hear the end of it.”
When he finished the last letter, Cullen sat back in his chair, holding the bundle against his chest for a moment as he closed his eyes. “I didn’t realize how much I needed this,” he admitted quietly. “It’s been years since I’ve heard from them like this.”
Ariana reached across the table, her fingers brushing against his. “You have a family who loves you, Cullen. They haven’t forgotten you.”
His hand closed over hers, his grip firm but gentle. “And now I have you,” he said, his voice steady but carrying an undercurrent of vulnerability. “I don’t know what I did to deserve this, but thank you, Ari.”
Her smile softened, and she squeezed his hand before leaning back in her chair. “You deserve it, Cullen. More than you know.”
They sat together for a while longer, the letters resting between them as the morning sun continued its gentle ascent. The quiet intimacy of the moment wrapped around them, a reminder that, despite everything, they had found each other again—and for now, that was enough.
~~~
The mid-morning sun hung low on the horizon, its golden rays casting a soft glow over the cobblestone streets of Hightown as they made their way toward the city gates. Cullen couldn’t remember the last time he had taken a day entirely to himself. His duties rarely afforded him such luxuries, and he found himself grateful for this rare reprieve—grateful, too, that he was spending it with Ariana.
She walked a step ahead, her pace brisk, her cloak shifting with each stride. The lightness in her steps mirrored the easy banter between them. She seemed more carefree than he’d seen her in days, and he couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm as she pointed out landmarks or made sly remarks about his “overdeveloped sense of caution.”
“I thought you were a Knight-Captain, not a Chantry cleric,” she teased, glancing back over her shoulder as they followed the path down toward the coast. The cliffs rose in jagged lines against the bright blue sky, and the air carried the faint tang of saltwater.
“Both roles require a sharp mind, you know,” he replied with mock indignation. “Though I can see why you might not be familiar with the concept.”
Her laughter rang out, bright and unrestrained, and Cullen felt a surge of warmth. Moments like these—when she was genuinely at ease—reminded him of how much he had missed her during her time away. She had always been someone who could shift the weight from his shoulders with a single smile.
They left the main path, the beaten dirt trail giving way to rocky terrain. The cliffs loomed higher here, casting shadows that cooled the air despite the sun’s warmth. Ariana led him with purpose, weaving through the uneven terrain as if she’d been here a dozen times before.
“This way,” she said, her voice tinged with excitement. She gestured to an outcropping of rock ahead, where the faint edges of a crumbled structure jutted out from the earth. “It’s supposed to be an old Tevinter ruin. I’ve heard stories about this place but never had a chance to explore it properly.”
Cullen followed, his steps deliberate as he navigated the uneven ground. “Tevinter ruins?” he asked, his tone curious. “I would’ve thought you’d had your fill of them by now.”
She glanced at him, an amused glint in her hazel-green eyes. “What can I say? Old ruins and forgotten histories—they’re like puzzles waiting to be solved. Besides,” she added with a sly smile, “you never know what you might find. Could be treasure. Could be danger. Keeps things interesting.”
Cullen chuckled, shaking his head. “That’s a bold way of saying ‘reckless,’” he teased. “But fine. I’ll humor you, as long as you promise not to go poking around anything cursed.”
“No promises,” she shot back, her grin widening.
They spent the next hour exploring the ruins, their conversation shifting easily between speculation about Tevinter history and lighthearted banter about their own. Ariana darted ahead now and then, her curiosity pulling her toward half-buried walls and fragments of stone carvings. Cullen watched her, a mixture of admiration and amusement softening his expression. She had always been bold, driven by a quiet determination that made it impossible not to be drawn to her.
As they wandered further, Cullen’s gaze caught something—a series of faint footprints pressed into the dirt near the edge of the ruins. He crouched down, inspecting them carefully. The impressions were fresh, leading away from the direction they had come. His chest tightened with a flicker of unease.
“Someone’s been here recently,” he said, standing and scanning the area. His hand instinctively moved to the hilt of his sword. “We should stay alert.”
Ariana joined him, her expression curious rather than concerned as she followed his line of sight. “Probably just travelers or scavengers,” she said lightly, brushing her hair back as she surveyed the footprints. “It’s not unusual for people to pass through here.”
Cullen frowned, his grip on his sword tightening. “Perhaps, but it’s best not to assume. Especially not out here.”
Her lack of concern unsettled him. While she agreed to be cautious, there was a quiet confidence in her demeanor that made him wonder if she knew something he didn’t—or perhaps that she simply wasn’t worried. Either way, it struck him as odd. This wasn’t the first time he’d noticed how at ease she seemed in situations that would leave most people uneasy.
They continued forward, Cullen’s senses heightened as he scanned their surroundings. Despite the unease creeping in, he couldn’t shake the growing curiosity about Ariana. Her calm felt calculated, deliberate, as though she was weighing risks he couldn’t see. It left him wondering—again—just how much he didn’t know about what she had endured during the Blight, or the years that had followed.
For now, though, he set the questions aside, focusing instead on the task at hand. Whatever lay ahead, he would make certain she was safe.
~~~
The ruins had begun to fall silent again, the faint whisper of the wind the only sound as Cullen and Ariana made their way back toward the path. The earlier unease lingered in the back of his mind, but he said nothing, keeping his senses sharp. His hand never strayed far from his longsword, his muscles coiled and ready. Something about the fresh footprints they had found earlier didn’t sit right with him.
It happened without warning.
A sudden rustle from the cliffs above drew Cullen’s attention. Before he could react, a group of armed men emerged from the shadows, their weapons gleaming in the midday sun. They moved quickly, surrounding Cullen and Ariana in a practiced formation. Slavers, he realized immediately. Their leering grins and mismatched armor marked them as opportunists, their eyes darting between Cullen and Ariana as though sizing up their prey.
“Well, what do we have here?” one of them sneered, his voice dripping with malice. “A fine-looking pair, wandering all alone. Lucky for us.”
Cullen’s grip tightened on his sword, his stance shifting instinctively into a defensive posture. Beside him, Ariana stood eerily calm, her hands brushing against her thighs. Her knives, he realized. Small, discreet, and tucked against her legs—barely a threat, or so the slavers likely thought.
“She’ll fetch a good price,” another slaver said, his gaze lingering on Ariana in a way that made Cullen’s blood boil. “And him? Looks trained. City Guard maybe. Would be good for the fights.”
Cullen’s jaw clenched, his muscles taut with restrained fury. He stepped forward slightly, positioning himself protectively in front of Ariana. “Walk away,” he growled, his voice low and commanding. “You don’t want to do this.”
The leader, a burly man with a jagged scar running across his face, laughed, the sound cold and guttural. “Oh, I think we do,” he said, raising his blade. “Take them.”
The slavers lunged. Cullen drew his longsword in a fluid motion, meeting the first strike head-on. The clang of steel against steel rang out, sharp and jarring, as he parried the attack and countered with a powerful strike that sent his opponent sprawling. Another slaver came at him from the side, but Cullen was ready, his movements precise and measured as he dodged and struck back.
Ariana, however, was a blur of motion.
Before Cullen could glance back, she had already drawn one of her small knives and sidestepped an advancing slaver. With a sharp, practiced movement, she slashed his arm, forcing him to drop his weapon—a short sword. She caught it mid-fall, the transition seamless as she turned on her heel and drove the blade into his side. The slaver crumpled with a grunt, but Ariana didn’t stop.
Her movements were fluid, deadly. She disarmed another slaver, this time taking a second short sword, and shifted effortlessly into a dual-wielding stance. Cullen’s eyes widened as he caught a glimpse of her in action. Her strikes were precise, her footwork agile, her presence commanding. This was not the Ariana he had known before the Blight—the girl who had once sparred with him in the morning light at the ruins near Lake Calenhad, her strikes hesitant and deliberate. This was someone else entirely.
He could now see more of the skill she displayed sparring with him recently, except there was never any hesitation here. Had she lost their sparring match on purpose? Had she been holding back her true skill?
The realization struck him hard, a brief lapse in focus that cost him. One of the slavers’ blades grazed his arm, cutting through the fabric of his sleeve. The pain snapped him back to the present, and with a snarl, he spun to disarm his opponent, delivering a decisive strike that ended the threat.
But even as he fought, his gaze kept drifting back to Ariana. The way she moved—the confidence in her every strike, the calculated precision with which she dispatched her enemies—left him stunned. She was lethal, efficient, and utterly unrecognizable from the girl he thought he knew. It wasn’t just skill; it was survival honed into an art.
By the time the last slaver fell, the ruins were eerily quiet again. Cullen stood frozen for a moment, his chest heaving as he tried to make sense of what he had just witnessed. Ariana stood a few feet away, her chest rising and falling with steady breaths. Blood stained her blades and splattered across her travel clothes, but her expression was calm, almost detached.
“Are you alright?” she asked, her voice steady as she glanced over at him.
Cullen could only nod at first, his words caught somewhere between his racing thoughts and the pounding of his heart. Finally, he found his voice. “You… you’re incredible,” he said, his tone laced with awe and something deeper—pride, perhaps, but also unease. “Where did you learn to fight like that?”
Ariana hesitated, her eyes flickering briefly with something he couldn’t quite place. “I survived,” she said simply, as though that explained everything. And in a way, it did.
Cullen felt a pang of guilt as the realization sank in. Whatever she had been through, whatever had shaped her into the fighter she was now—it hadn’t come easily. It had come at a cost. He couldn’t help but wonder what that cost had been. And he had a feeling it was more than darkspawn.
Still, as they stood amidst the aftermath of the ambush, another thought struck him—a quiet, unshakable truth. She was strong, stronger than he had ever imagined. And while part of him ached to protect her, to shield her from whatever had forced her to become this skilled, another part of him swelled with admiration. She wasn’t just surviving; she was thriving, in her own way.
Cullen sheathed his sword, his gaze lingering on Ariana as she wiped the blood from her borrowed blades and returned them to the ground beside the fallen slavers. For now, his questions could wait. What mattered was that she was safe—and that she was here, standing with him.
~~~
The echoes of the fight still lingered in the ruins, the silence feeling heavier now that the immediate danger had passed. Ariana’s gaze flicked to Cullen, who stood a few paces away, his breathing steady but labored. Blood seeped through his sleeve, a dark stain against the fabric. She saw him trying to brush it off as if it didn’t hurt, but the shallow gash told a different story.
“Cullen,” she said sharply, crossing the distance between them. “Let me see your arm.”
“It’s nothing,” he replied, his voice gruff as he shook his head. “Just a scratch.”
Ariana frowned, reaching for his arm despite his protest. “It’s not nothing. Sit,” she ordered, her tone brooking no argument. She crouched beside him as he reluctantly lowered himself to a nearby rock.
From the corner of her mind, Krieger’s voice stirred. “You’re too important to lose,” The memory was sharp and unwelcome, a reminder of the man who had shaped her into what she was now. She was back in the day where her own focus faltered and Krieger bandaged her arm. She forced the thought aside, her focus snapping back to Cullen.
Without a word, Ariana tugged at her sash, tearing a strip of fabric free. The material unraveled easily, and she wrapped it carefully around Cullen’s arm. He watched her, his expression softening as he realized what she was doing.
“I’ll clean it properly when we get back,” she murmured, tying the makeshift bandage securely. She glanced up at him, her hazel-green eyes searching his face. “There. That’ll hold for now.”
“You didn’t have to do that,” he said quietly, though there was no mistaking the gratitude in his voice.
Ariana offered him a faint smile, brushing her hands off on her trousers as she stood. “It’s the least I can do, it’s your birthday after all and this was my idea,” she teased lightly, trying to keep her tone casual. “Now stay here. I’m going to check them.”
She moved away before he could argue, her attention shifting to the slavers’ belongings. A quick search revealed little of immediate value—coins, scraps of food, and basic equipment—but in one satchel, her fingers brushed against the edge of something unusual. She pulled it free and found a small leather-bound ledger. Flipping through the pages, her expression hardened. The notes were vague but suggested other camps nearby—perhaps even captives waiting to be transported. Ariana slipped the ledger into her pouch without a word. This was something for the Hawke to handle. She would deal with it later. Alone.
When she returned to Cullen, he was watching her closely, his golden eyes filled with a mix of concern and something else she couldn’t quite place.
“You were calm,” he said, his voice quiet but weighted. “During the fight. You didn’t hesitate. You weren’t afraid.”
Ariana paused for only a moment, then shrugged with a practiced ease, as though this were just another day. “It’s nothing unusual,” she said, her tone light and even. “You can’t afford to hesitate when it’s your life or theirs. You don’t fight to survive. You fight to win. That’s all there is to it.”
The words left her lips before she could stop them, and for a moment, Krieger’s voice echoed again in her mind. “You don’t fight to survive, Ariana. You fight to win.” The mantra had kept her alive for years, but it came with a price—one she tried not to think about too often.
Cullen frowned slightly at her response, the weight of it unsettling him. She could see it in the way his brows knit together, his lips pressing into a thin line. He didn’t say anything immediately, but the silence stretched between them, heavy and unspoken.
Sensing the tension, Ariana decided to deflect. “I should be praising you,” she said lightly, folding her arms across her chest. “For someone without armor, you held your own pretty well.”
Cullen raised an eyebrow at her, his lips twitching into a reluctant smile. “I’m a Templar, Ari,” he replied, a touch of humor creeping into his voice. “It’s my job.”
“And here I thought you just looked good in armor,” she teased, her grin widening.
The tension eased slightly as Cullen chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m not sure whether to be flattered or offended.”
“Definitely flattered,” she said with a wink, stepping closer to him. “Come on, let’s get moving before we attract any more attention.”
As they set off down the path, Ariana’s thoughts remained heavy despite her lighthearted tone. She knew Cullen hadn’t let the question go entirely. The way he had looked at her during the fight—the realization she had seen in his eyes—told her that he was starting to put the pieces together.
She didn’t know what he would do if he ever uncovered the whole truth, but for now, she pushed the fear aside. There were other battles to fight, and Cullen—always the protector—was at her side. That, at least, was enough for now.
~~~
The warm glow of the setting sun cast long shadows through the estate’s halls as Cullen and Ariana stepped inside. The exhaustion of the day clung to them, but the sight of her home brought a sense of calm. They had made it back, bruised but alive, and for that, Cullen was grateful.
“You’re hurt,” Cullen said, breaking the silence as he glanced at the thin cut along her leg. It wasn’t deep, but it still bothered him.
“It’s nothing,” Ariana replied, brushing it off with her usual nonchalance. She stepped toward the stairs, but Cullen caught her arm gently.
Cullen wasn’t having it. “Ari,” he said firmly, his voice brooking no argument. “Let me clean it. Properly.”
She turned, eyebrow raised, before a faint smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “Alright, fine,” she relented, though her tone carried a hint of teasing. “But only if I can do the same for your arm after.”
He chuckled softly, shaking his head as they made their way upstairs. “Fair.”
Ariana reappeared in her house robe, her movements fluid and relaxed despite the day’s events. Cullen felt his breath hitch slightly as she crossed the room. The robe, tied loosely at the waist, revealed more than he was accustomed to seeing. It wasn’t just her appearance—it was the ease with which she carried herself, the confidence that seemed to radiate from her despite the exhaustion. He quickly averted his gaze, focusing instead on the first aid supplies she’d placed on the table.
She sat on the edge of the chaise, her leg extended. “Alright, Knight-Captain,” she teased lightly, “do your worst.”
Cullen knelt in front of her, carefully dabbing at the cut with a cloth dampened in clean water. The wound wasn’t serious, but his hands worked with the precision of someone who’d done this countless times. She winced slightly, and he immediately softened his touch.
“You were incredible today,” he said quietly, his voice almost reverent. “But next time, maybe don’t let them get so close.”
Her laugh was soft, but he caught the faint blush on her cheeks. “I’ll keep that in mind the next time I get ambushed while I’m unarmed.”
As he worked, his gaze kept drifting—noticing details he hadn’t allowed himself to focus on before.
The definition of her muscles was unmistakable, the kind forged not from casual exercise but from years of rigorous training. Her legs, lean and powerful, bore the faint scars of past battles. His eyes trailed up, subtly taking in her arms and shoulders, which had the same quiet strength. He’d always known her frame was athletic—it was evident even beneath her usual attire—but seeing it like this, up close and unguarded, made him realize just how much he hadn’t been able to see before.
This wasn’t just someone who had fought enough to survive. This was someone who had lived through relentless challenges, someone who had trained, fought—and won—time and again.
His mind flickered back to the fight earlier, to the way she had moved with such lethal precision. Where had she learned that? How had she survived everything the Blight had thrown at her, alone? Not alone. She couldn’t have been.
Cullen’s hands faltered briefly as his thoughts spiraled, the cloth in his grasp still against her skin. Ariana tilted her head, her sharp eyes catching the lapse.
“Distracted?” she asked, her voice playful but carrying a thread of curiosity.
He cleared his throat, forcing himself to focus. “Just… making sure it’s cleaned thoroughly,” he replied, though the warmth creeping into his cheeks betrayed him.
Her lips curved into a knowing smile, but she said nothing, allowing him to finish his work in silence.
As Cullen tied the bandage securely around her leg, he couldn’t shake the questions swirling in his mind. The woman before him wasn’t the same girl he had met back in Ferelden. This version of Ariana carried herself with an unshakable confidence, her strength undeniable and yet still wrapped in layers of mystery.
He’d seen many sides of her—her wit, her courage, her kindness—but this… this was something different. Something dangerous.
A reminder, he thought as he sat back, that he needed to find out more.
“Your turn,” Ariana said, snapping him from his reverie as she motioned for him to sit.
He hesitated, but the determined look on her face left no room for argument. With a resigned sigh, Cullen moved to the bed, ready for what he knew would be another reminder of how easily she could disarm him—not just in battle, but in every way.
“Sit,” she ordered, pointing to the bed.
With a sigh, he obeyed, easing down onto the edge of the bed. Ariana climbed onto the bed beside him, kneeling as she carefully untied the makeshift bandage she had wrapped earlier.
“Take off your shirt,” she instructed, her tone matter-of-fact.
Cullen hesitated, a rush of nervous energy making his movements falter. The intimacy of the moment—her bare shoulder so close, her focus entirely on him—made his pulse quicken in a way that had nothing to do with the wound itself. Swallowing hard, he pulled his shirt over his head and set it aside. The cool air was a stark contrast to the warmth of her hands as they carefully cleaned his arm, each touch leaving him feeling entirely too aware of her.
Her fingers worked methodically, the slight tug of the bandage firm but careful as she tied the final knot. Cullen watched her with a mix of appreciation and unease. She wasn’t just bandaging his arm; there was something almost tender about the way she moved, her brow furrowed in concentration, her lips pressed together in quiet focus.
As she leaned back to examine her work, her hazel-green eyes lifted to meet his. For a heartbeat, the world narrowed to just the two of them. Neither of them moved, the stillness in the air thick and heavy, broken only by the distant crackle of the fire.
Her hand lingered, resting lightly on his arm as if to reassure herself that he was there, that he was alright. But it was the way she was looking at him that sent a jolt through him—soft, unguarded, with a warmth that threatened to undo every ounce of his composure.
Cullen’s breath hitched, the moment stretching unbearably as his thoughts betrayed him. She was beautiful, of course, but it wasn’t just that. It was the way she seemed to see straight through him, the way her presence steadied something deep within him, even as she so effortlessly unraveled the walls he had built.
But there was something deeper in her gaze, too—something he couldn’t quite place. Was it longing? Guilt? The flicker of emotion made his chest tighten, as though she carried a weight she wasn’t sharing.
He needed to move. To pull away before he did something irredeemably foolish. His mind raced, caught between the pull of her nearness and the nagging voice of reason that reminded him how precarious this was.
Slowly, Cullen cleared his throat, breaking the tension. But his voice, when it came, sounded rougher than he intended, betraying the battle within him. “I should… probably go,” he said, standing abruptly.
Ariana blinked, startled by his sudden movement. Her hand slipped from his arm as she straightened, watching him with an expression he couldn’t quite decipher—disappointment? Amusement?
For a moment, he thought he saw the corner of her lips twitch into a faint smile, as if she knew exactly why he was retreating. And that realization only made him more desperate to escape the dangerous pull she had over him.
Cullen stepped back, forcing himself to look away, his hands curling into fists at his sides to steady himself. “I—thank you,” he added quickly, gesturing vaguely to his arm.
But as he turned to leave, her voice stopped him.
“Stay a little longer.”
It wasn’t a command, nor was it a plea. Her tone was quiet, steady, as though she already knew he wouldn’t refuse.
Cullen hesitated, his back to her, his heart thudding painfully in his chest. He swallowed hard, glancing back at her over his shoulder. She was still sitting on the bed, her robe falling loosely around her frame, her expression unreadable but earnest.
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Alright,” he said softly, his resolve crumbling. “Just a little longer.”
~~~
Ariana led Cullen out into the courtyard, her hand lightly brushing his as they walked. The night air was cool and crisp, carrying the faint scent of salt from the nearby sea. Above them, the stars blanketed the sky, their soft glow spilling into the courtyard, casting gentle shadows on the cobblestones. The lanterns from earlier had burned low, leaving the space quiet and bathed in moonlight.
They laid down on the grass, side by side, staring up at the clear sky. The stars stretched endlessly above them, their light reflecting in Ariana’s eyes as she turned to glance at him. As they settled into the quiet, a familiar memory surfaced for Ariana, and she tilted her head back to look at the stars. “Do you remember the ruins near Lake Calenhad?” she asked softly, her voice carrying a touch of nostalgia.
Cullen glanced at her, a small smile forming as the memory came rushing back. “Of course. You spent hours telling me all the stories, myths, and legends behind the stars. Real or imagined.” he quipped.
Her laughter rang out, clear and unrestrained. The light in her eyes, the ease in her posture—it was a side of her he hadn’t seen often in recent days, and it warmed him to see her like this.
Ariana’s laughter softened, her expression growing thoughtful. “I used to think those moments by the ruins were perfect,” she said, her voice quieter now. “Simple and peaceful… like nothing bad could touch us there.”
Cullen nodded, the wistfulness in her tone mirrored in his own thoughts. “It did feel like that, didn’t it?” he said. “Like the rest of the world didn’t matter.”
They fell into another comfortable silence, the kind that only came with trust and familiarity. Cullen found his gaze drifting to her more often than the stars, his mind circling back to the events of the day—the fight, the secrets she carried, the undeniable connection they shared. He had never met anyone like her, someone who could carry so much yet remain so strong, so vibrant. And despite the questions that still lingered in his mind, one realization stood out above all others.
He loved her.
It wasn’t a sudden epiphany or a grand revelation. It was quiet and steady, like the stars above them, something that had been there all along, waiting for him to notice. She was his anchor, his light in the chaos that had surrounded him for so long.
As her breathing slowed, she drifted off, her head resting against his shoulder. Cullen remained awake a little longer, letting the peace of the moment wash over him.
Later that night, Isabel wandered into the courtyard, her steps light as she carried a blanket over her arm. She paused when she saw them, a smile tugging at her lips as she took in the sight. “Maker, those two…,” she murmured to herself, her tone amused but warm.
Quietly, she stepped closer, draping the blanket over their sleeping forms with a practiced ease. She lingered for a moment, her gaze softening as she watched them. Whatever challenges lay ahead, it was clear they had found something precious in one another. With a contented sigh, Isabel turned and slipped away, leaving them to the quiet peace of the night.
~~~
The gentle morning light filtered through the courtyard, painting the cobblestones with a soft golden hue. Ariana stirred, her eyes fluttering open to a world that seemed, for a moment, unfamiliar. She blinked, taking in the open sky above her, the faint hum of birdsong, and the soft warmth of Cullen’s arm draped tightly around her. The events of the night before came rushing back, and a small, content smile curved her lips.
Her gaze shifted to Cullen, his face relaxed in sleep, the worry lines that usually creased his brow smoothed away. She moved slightly, adjusting herself, and felt his arm tighten instinctively around her. A soft groan escaped him as he began to stir, his golden eyes opening slowly to meet hers.
“Good morning,” she murmured, her voice soft, leaning in to kiss his cheek.
Cullen turned his head toward her, his lips curling into a warm, sleepy smile as his other arm found its way around her. Without hesitation, he pulled her closer, his lips capturing hers in a kiss that was both tender and lingering. In one smooth motion, he shifted, rolling her onto her back, his weight settling gently over her.
Ariana laughed, the sound light and unrestrained, happiness bubbling up as she looked up at him. In this moment, there were no shadows, no secrets, no looming tasks—just them. If it were up to her, this would be every morning for the rest of her life.
Cullen’s eyes softened as he gazed down at her, his thumb brushing against her cheek. For a moment, neither of them moved, caught in the stillness of the morning and the intimacy of their closeness. But then, as if realizing where they were, he froze. A faint blush crept up his neck as his eyes darted to the open courtyard around them.
“We’re outside,” he muttered, his voice tinged with both amusement and embarrassment.
“Yes, we are,” Ariana replied, her tone teasing as she bit back another laugh.
With a reluctant sigh, Cullen shifted his weight off her, settling beside her once more. He ran a hand through his hair, the slight sheepishness in his expression making her grin.
“You know,” she said lightly, sitting up and brushing her hair back from her face, “if you’re going to pin me to the ground, maybe next time pick somewhere a little more private?”
His blush deepened, and he let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
~~~
Later that morning, the smell of fresh bread and tea filled the estate, mingling with the soft hum of quiet conversation and the occasional clink of cutlery. Ariana sat across from Cullen at the breakfast table, feeling lighter than she had in days. The morning sun poured through the windows, casting a warm glow over the room as they ate in comfortable silence. Cullen looked more relaxed, though his armor still gleamed, a reminder that his duties were never far away.
Ariana was halfway through her tea when a light knock at the door interrupted the calm. A courier entered, his demeanor efficient as he handed her a folded note. The handwriting on the outside was unmistakable—Varric’s precise scrawl.
She unfolded the note, her curiosity immediately piqued.
Pup—
Meet me at the Hanged Man. Got something interesting to show you. Time is of the essence.
—V
Ariana’s brow furrowed slightly, though a small smile tugged at her lips. Whatever Varric had in store, it was bound to be worth investigating.
“What is it?” Cullen’s voice broke through her thoughts, his sharp gaze already locked on her.
She slipped the note into her pocket and shrugged casually, taking another sip of her tea. “Just Varric. He says he has something interesting to show me.”
Cullen’s brow arched in quiet skepticism, his fork hovering midair. “And what does that mean?”
“It means it’s Varric,” Ariana said lightly, her tone playful. “I never know what it means until I get there.”
His lips twitched into an amused smile, though the curiosity in his eyes didn’t fade. “I’ll walk with you.”
Ariana shook her head, setting her cup down as she stood. “No need. I still need to get ready, and I don’t want to make you late for the Gallows.”
Cullen’s disappointment was subtle, but she caught it in the way his posture shifted. “If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure,” she said, leaning down to kiss him as she passed by. “I’ll see you tonight?”
“Of course,” Cullen replied, his smile returning as he adjusted his gauntlets, preparing himself for another day of duty.
As he stepped out the door moments later, Ariana lingered in the quiet of the estate. She glanced toward the pocket where Varric’s note rested, her curiosity mingling with a faint flicker of anticipation. Whatever he had waiting for her, it was bound to be interesting.
~~~
An hour later, Ariana made her way to the Hanged Man, her steps purposeful yet unhurried. When she arrived, Varric was waiting near the bar, leaning against a column with his usual nonchalance. Standing with him were Valentina, Lamberto, and Linnea, each looking equally intrigued—and slightly impatient.
“Took you long enough, pup,” Varric teased, pushing off the column. “Thought you might’ve brought breakfast for all of us.”
Ariana smirked. “You didn’t mention food in your note. Besides, you’d complain about the estate’s cuisine not being as good as Corff’s.”
“Fair,” Varric admitted with a grin. “Let’s get moving.”
He led them through Lowtown, weaving through crowded streets and narrow alleys. The further they went, the closer they came to the docks, the air carrying the faint scent of saltwater. The group exchanged questioning glances, but Varric said nothing, his pace steady and his expression giving nothing away.
Finally, he stopped in front of an unremarkable stretch of stone wall with a single, nondescript door set into it. He turned to face them, his grin widening.
“Alright, Varric,” Ariana said, crossing her arms. “What are we doing here?”
“This,” he replied, motioning toward the door. “It just became available, and I think you’re going to like it.”
The group exchanged puzzled looks before Ariana stepped forward, pushing the door open. Inside was a vast warehouse, its interior far more expansive than the modest door suggested. Multiple levels of walkways crisscrossed above, and the main floor stretched wide, offering ample open space. The dim light filtering through high windows caught the glint of reinforced wooden railings and wooden beams. At the far end of the warehouse, a heavy iron grate led down to what appeared to be sewer access, and an adjacent tunnel hinted at further underground passageways.
The Rangers wandered inside, taking in the potential of the space.
Valentina ran a hand along a sturdy support beam. “This is perfect for training and storage. We wouldn’t lack room here.”
Linnea moved to the edge of the upper walkway, her gaze scanning the multiple entrances. “It’s defensible, despite all the access points. Easy enough to secure them if we put in the effort.”
Lamberto crouched near the iron grate, inspecting the sewer access. “Reinforcing this will be simple. Making sure no unexpected visitors show up? Even easier.”
Ariana turned to Varric, narrowing her eyes slightly. “What’s wrong with it?”
Varric chuckled, leaning against the wall. “The price. It’s expensive—120 gold a month. For Lowtown, that’s outrageous.”
Ariana hummed, walking a slow circle around the main floor, her boots echoing softly against the stone. “Easy access to the docks, out of the way of prying eyes, plenty of hiding places, training area…” She paused, turning to the Rangers with an arched brow. “Well?”
Lamberto grinned. “How much do we care about the price?”
Ariana’s smile widened. “We don’t.”
Varric raised his eyebrows, partially surprised but already beginning to understand the depth of her resources. “So, is this it?”
Ariana nodded decisively. “It is.”
The warehouse echoed with their voices as the group began to explore its full potential. For the first time in a while, Ariana felt a glimmer of hope. This place was more than just a new base—it was a symbol of their growing strength and resilience in a city that rarely offered either. Whatever challenges lay ahead, this space would be their sanctuary.