21 Drakonis – 28 Drakonis 9:34
Ariana stirred, her eyelids heavy and unwilling to fully open. The faint ache in her ribs flared with each shallow breath, and her entire body felt drained, weighed down by exhaustion. As she forced her eyes open, the dim room around her came into focus. The walls were plain stone, dark and cold, illuminated only by a faint light from a single lantern on a desk. The room was small, devoid of decoration, practical in every sense. The bed she lay on was narrow, the mattress firm beneath her. Everything felt unfamiliar.
Her gaze drifted, scanning the sparse furnishings, and she stiffened as she noticed a figure on the far side of the room. A mage stood at a table, their back to her, methodically preparing something she couldn’t make out. Her voice came out soft, barely a whisper. “Where am I?”
The mage startled, turning sharply to face her. Relief flickered across his features when he saw her awake. “The Gallows,” he said simply, his tone calm but grave. “You were gravely injured. The Knight-Captain brought you to us.”
The words hit her like a blow, and a surge of panic rippled through her groggy mind. She tried to sit up but quickly regretted it, the sharp pain in her ribs stealing her breath, the wound at her side burning as she moved. The Gallows? Fragments of memory swirled in her mind—the docks, the battle, Cullen’s arms—but nothing solid. She didn’t remember being brought here.
The mage noticed her struggle and stepped closer, lowering his voice as if to soothe her. “Don’t move. You’re safe here.” He hesitated, his eyes searching hers before he leaned in slightly. “I… thank you. Your secret is safe with me. I promise I will not let you die.”
Her chest tightened, though whether from the pain or the implications of his words, she couldn’t tell. “Who…” Her voice was weak, the act of speaking itself a strain. “You know who I am?”
The mage nodded, his expression steady. “You saved my friend. I owe you more than I could ever repay.”
He reached down, his hand squeezing hers briefly—a gesture of reassurance, gratitude, and solidarity. Ariana opened her mouth to respond, but the room swayed, and her strength failed her. Darkness crept at the edges of her vision, and she sank back against the mattress, unable to resist the pull of unconsciousness.
~~~
The next time she woke, it was with a dull, persistent ache in her ribs, a tightness on her side, and the lingering fog of exhaustion. The dim light of the room hadn’t changed, though now the air felt heavier, quieter. Ariana blinked a few times, her gaze adjusting, and her breath caught as her eyes landed on a familiar figure sitting at the desk.
Cullen.
He was leaning forward, his elbows braced on the wooden surface, his hands clasped together as if in thought. His armor was gone, replaced by a plain shirt and trousers, though his sword was propped against the desk within easy reach. The flickering lantern light softened the usual sharpness of his features, but the tension in his posture was unmistakable.
Ariana tried to speak, but her throat felt raw, her voice little more than a rasp. “Cullen…”
He looked up immediately, his golden eyes locking onto hers. Relief washed over his face, followed by a mixture of concern and something she couldn’t quite place. He stood quickly, moving to her side.
“You’re awake,” he said, his voice steady but soft. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I lost a fight with a dragon,” she muttered, her lips quirking in the faintest attempt at a smile. Even that small movement hurt.
Cullen huffed a quiet laugh, though the worry in his eyes didn’t fade. “You came close. You’ve been unconscious for… almost two days.” His gaze swept over her, taking in her pale complexion and the exhaustion still etched into her features. “Do you remember what happened?”
Her brow furrowed, pieces of memory slotting into place. The battle, the docks, the Alienage… the rest was a haze. “I… remember fighting. Helping people. And then… nothing.” Her hand instinctively moved toward her side, but she stopped when the movement made her ribs protest. “What happened?”
“You were bleeding badly when I found you,” Cullen said, his voice quieter now. “The wound in your side… if I hadn’t brought you here…” He trailed off, his jaw tightening. “I had to make a choice. The Circle’s healers were your best chance.”
Ariana’s breath caught at the mention of the Circle. The faint memory of a mage leaning over her flickered in her mind, but she pushed it aside, focusing instead on Cullen—his presence steady, his concern palpable.
“Can’t imagine Meredith was happy about that,” she muttered absently, her voice still weak. The words slipped out before she fully registered what she was saying.
Cullen froze, his brows knitting together as he processed her comment. “What do you mean by that?”
Ariana’s eyes widened slightly, realizing her mistake. She quickly shook her head, forcing a faint, dismissive smile. “Just… what I’ve heard. She doesn’t seem the type to appreciate a Hightown noble taking up space in the Circle, even for healing.”
Cullen studied her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Her explanation felt thin. However, he seemed to let it drop—for now.
“Hmph,” he murmured, glancing away as if the thought unsettled him. “Meredith has her priorities.”
Relieved that he didn’t press further, Ariana let herself relax against the pillows. But then she shifted slightly, and the sensation of bandages wrapped snugly around her midsection drew her attention. Only then did she notice her armor was gone, leaving her in nothing but her undergarments beneath the blanket. Heat crept into her cheeks as the realization hit her.
Her eyes flicked back to Cullen, and a faint smirk tugged at her lips despite the ache in her ribs. “You know,” she began, her tone teasing, “I can’t help but notice that I’m… well, mostly undressed.”
Cullen stiffened, his golden eyes widening slightly as a flush crept up his neck. His gaze darted away, landing somewhere around the far wall. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “One of the healers…” His voice cracked, and he coughed lightly before trying again. “One of the healers undressed you. To treat the wound. Of course.”
Ariana raised a brow, her smirk widening as her hazel-green eyes sparkled with mischief. “Of course,” she echoed, her tone light but playful. “Glad to know you’ve still got your sense of decorum.”
Ariana’s smirk deepened as she tilted her head slightly. “Though,” she added, her voice light but with a teasing lilt, “I wouldn’t mind if you did leave that sense of decorum behind. Just for a moment.”
Cullen’s eyes widened, the blush on his cheeks spreading rapidly. “Ariana—” he began, his tone flustered, but she cut him off with a soft laugh.
“You’re easy to unsettle, you know that?” she said, her voice quieter now, though the playfulness lingered in her gaze. Her fingers lightly brushed against his hand, grounding him.
His lips twitched again, this time giving way to a small, reluctant smile. “You don’t make it easy to stay composed,” he admitted, shaking his head slightly.
Ariana’s smirk returned, her eyes glinting with playful defiance. “Well,” she said, her voice laced with teasing mischief, “it’s not like I undressed myself.”
Cullen’s mouth opened slightly, then closed again as his blush deepened. He shifted his weight, clearly searching for a response, but Ariana let out a soft laugh and waved a hand dismissively.
“Relax, Cullen,” she said, her tone gentler now. “I’m only teasing.” Her teasing faded into something softer as she leaned back against the pillows, her gaze steady. “Thank you… for everything.”
The shift in tone was enough to ease the tension, and Cullen exhaled, giving her a faint smile. “You should rest,” he said again, his voice quieter now but no less firm.
Ariana shifted her hand, tugging gently at the front of his shirt. “Come here,” she murmured, her voice soft but insistent.
Cullen hesitated for a moment before leaning closer, his golden eyes searching hers for a moment of reassurance. She raised her hand, brushing her fingers against his cheek before letting it settle there, the warmth of her touch drawing his full attention.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly, her hazel-green eyes locking onto his. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”
Before he could respond, she leaned in and pressed a light kiss to his cheek, her lips lingering briefly before she pulled back. Cullen’s breath caught, the vulnerability in her gesture leaving him momentarily speechless. But then his expression softened completely, a quiet resolve in his gaze as he leaned closer.
“I can’t lose you, Ari,” he said softly, his voice carrying the weight of unspoken fears and hopes. His hand brushed against her face as he leaned in, pressing a light, tender kiss to her lips. “I need you.”
The words settled between them, unspoken truths finally given voice. Ariana’s hand lingered on his neck as her eyes fluttered shut, a faint smile on her lips as she whispered, “Then you’ll just have to keep saving me.”
“You saved yourself,” he replied quietly. “I just carried you the rest of the way.”
Her lips curved in the faintest smile, but exhaustion finally claimed her before she could respond, but the warmth of Cullen’s presence stayed with her as she drifted back into the safety of sleep.
Cullen stayed by her side, his worry easing only slightly as her breathing evened out. For now, he could breathe too.
~~~
The door creaked softly as Cullen stepped into the room, his boots clicking against the stone floor. His gaze immediately landed on her—standing by the desk, clutching a glass of water, her figure illuminated by the faint light streaming in through the narrow window.
He froze for a moment, his breath catching. She was wearing only her undergarments, her bandaged torso visible beneath the dark lines of old scars and the faint, fresh bruising. Without the layers of armor and clothing that usually concealed her, every detail of her form was visible: the taut muscles of her arms and legs, the wiry strength honed through years of battle. It was an unexpected sight—one that struck him harder than he anticipated. She wasn’t just fast; she was built for survival. Every inch of her spoke of someone who had endured far more than she let on.
And yet, despite her imposing presence, there was an effortless grace to her, a softness that never quite disappeared. She stood there, barefoot, sipping water as though nothing were amiss.
“You should be resting,” Cullen said, breaking the silence as he stepped fully into the room and closed the door behind him. His voice was firm but carried a note of concern that betrayed his irritation.
Ariana turned slightly, her movements slow and measured. Her hazel-green eyes met his, and a faint smirk tugged at her lips. “I was thirsty,” she replied, her voice rasping slightly, though the teasing edge was unmistakable. “Lying in bed wasn’t going to fix that.”
Cullen sighed, crossing the room to stand in front of her. Up close, the shadows under her eyes were more pronounced, and the lines of exhaustion etched into her face deepened. “You’ve been unconscious for four days,” he said, his tone gentler now. “You’re lucky to be alive.”
“Four days?” Her brow furrowed slightly as she glanced around the room. Where… where am I, exactly?”
Cullen’s expression softened. “My quarters, in the Gallows. It was the safest place I could think to bring you. I wasn’t going to risk leaving you anywhere less secure.”
“You could have just stayed with me, you know.” she replied, gesturing around the room before tilting her head. “For my safety, of course.”
Her words hung in the air, teasing yet pointed. Cullen’s composure cracked, his gaze snapping to hers as a flush crept up his neck. “Ariana,” he said, his voice low, the hint of a warning in his tone.
She chuckled softly, the sound sending a strange warmth through him. “And where have you been staying, Knight-Captain?”
“In the barracks,” he answered simply, his golden eyes narrowing slightly. “It’s not important.”
Ariana’s gaze lingered on him for a moment longer, and he couldn’t help but notice how comfortable she seemed—standing there, barely clothed, teasing him without hesitation. As if she were trying to tell him something, subtly but deliberately. It unsettled and intrigued him in equal measure.
She swayed slightly, and Cullen’s hand shot out to steady her, his fingers brushing against her arm. “Enough,” he said, his voice firm. “You’re pushing yourself too hard. You need to get back in bed.”
Instead of complying, she leaned lightly against his chest, her arms resting against his sides. Cullen stiffened at the contact, but wrapped his arms around her. His heart pounded in his chest, the proximity of her—the trust implicit in the gesture—both comforting and overwhelming.
“Ariana,” he murmured, his tone softer now. “You need to rest.”
She didn’t reply immediately, her head tilting slightly as she exhaled against him. The weariness in her posture was palpable, but her voice, when it came, was laced with quiet defiance. “I’m fine.”
He sighed deeply, slipping an arm around her back and another under her legs, lifting her effortlessly. “Fine or not, you’re going back to bed,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.
As he turned toward the bed, she looped her arms around his neck, and for a moment, time seemed to still. Her hazel-green eyes locked onto his, and he felt as though she were studying him, searching for something.
Then, without warning, she leaned in and kissed him—a soft, fleeting kiss that sent a jolt through his entire body.
Cullen lost himself in their kiss for a moment. The relief of having her in his arms, safe, washing over him. She pulled back slightly, her forehead resting against his, her voice a barely audible whisper. “Thank you, Cullen. For everything.”
For a moment, all he could do was stand there, holding her, his thoughts a tangled mess of relief, worry, and something deeper that he refused to name. This wasn’t the time. The memory of almost losing her was too fresh, too raw.
Finally, he exhaled slowly, stepping forward and gently lowering her onto the bed. He grabbed a nearby blanket and draped it over her, tucking it in with careful hands.
“Stay here,” he said, his voice steadier now as he moved to retrieve a glass of water. “I’ll get the healers to check on you again soon.”
Ariana chuckled softly, her teasing spark not entirely gone despite her exhaustion. “Am I still making you uncomfortable?” she said, her tone light but mischievous. “I would get dressed but I have no clothes here…”
Cullen shot her a look, his jaw tightening as his blush deepened. “You’re impossible,” he walked over to the nearby dresser, pulling out a shirt and handing it to her. “Here. Put this on,” he said softly.
Ariana chuckled as she reached for the shirt, her hazel-green eyes glinting with amusement. “You wouldn’t have me any other way.” she teased, her tone light despite her fatigue.
~~~
Cullen leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead “Get some sleep,” he whispered “I’ll be back to check on you later.”
Ariana settled back against the bed, but then her thoughts drifted to the estate. “Cullen wait,” she called before he walked out “Isabel? Emma? Are they alright?”
“They’re fine,” Cullen said, as he turned back towards her “I checked on them myself. The estate is untouched. Isabel has been… understandably worried about you.”
Relief washed over her, though it was quickly tempered by the anxiety of everything she didn’t know. “And the city?”
Cullen sighed as his expression darkened, his shoulders tensing as he returned to sit on the bed next to her “The Viscount is dead. The Arishok killed him during the fighting.”
Ariana’s chest tightened. She had known the city was on the brink, but hearing those words felt like the ground shifting beneath her. “And the Arishok?”
“Hawke,” Cullen said simply, his tone carrying a mixture of respect and disbelief. “Hawke killed him in single combat. She challenged him, and now… now she’s the Champion of Kirkwall.”
Ariana blinked, the weight of his words settling over her. Champion of Kirkwall. It made sense, and yet it felt surreal. “Hawke…” she murmured, shaking her head faintly. “Of course she did.”
Cullen glanced at her, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “She’s already managed to keep the city from descending further into chaos. Barely.”
“And the Qunari?” Ariana asked, her voice steadier now.
“Gone,” Cullen replied. “Their remaining forces surrendered after the Arishok fell. It’s over, for now.”
Ariana exhaled slowly, her shoulders sagging slightly in relief. But the tension in her ribs quickly reminded her of her injuries, and she straightened with a grimace.
“I need to go home,” she said quietly, glancing at Cullen.
“Not yet,” he replied firmly, his tone brooking no argument. “Only when the healers say you’re safe to leave. Until then, you stay here.”
Ariana sighed, her frustration evident, but she didn’t argue further. Instead, she leaned back against the headboard, the glass of water cool in her hands as she tried to process everything he had told her.
The city was still standing, but everything had changed. And for now, all she could do was wait.
~~~
Ariana stood quietly, smoothing the fabric of the plain travel outfit Isabel had sent. It was simple and comfortable, yet every movement around her ribs sent a dull ache radiating through her side. Her fingers lingered on the bandages beneath the fabric, a reminder of how close she had come to losing everything.
Cullen’s quiet voice broke her thoughts. “Are you ready?”
She looked up, meeting his gaze. His expression held that familiar blend of concern and steadfastness, the same look that had brought her comfort countless times over the past week. “I’m ready,” she replied softly, her voice steadier than she felt.
He stepped closer, offering his arm without hesitation. She accepted, leaning into him lightly as they began the slow walk toward the estate. Each step was a stark reminder of her injuries, but the steady warmth of Cullen’s presence grounded her.
The streets of Kirkwall felt different now—haunted by the aftermath of the Qunari attack. The echoes of battle had given way to an oppressive stillness. As they walked, her sharp gaze caught every detail: the shattered windows, the scorched remnants of once-bustling shops, the faces of people who passed them—worn, hollow, and wary.
It wasn’t the devastation that unsettled her most, but the heavy presence of Templars. They were everywhere, their gleaming armor catching the light as they stood watch, their hands never straying far from their weapons. A subtle tension hung in the air, one that felt more stifling than protective.
“More Templars than usual,” Ariana murmured, her hazel-green eyes narrowing as they passed another pair conducting a tense conversation with a merchant.
“They’re helping maintain order,” Cullen replied, his voice careful, as though testing the weight of his own words. “Ensuring the city doesn’t spiral into chaos.”
Her lips tightened, and she glanced up at him, noting the slight set of his jaw. “That’s the official reason.”
Cullen hesitated, his pace slowing almost imperceptibly. “Yes,” he admitted, the discomfort evident in his tone. “And to ensure there’s no… further unrest.”
She said nothing, her thoughts swirling as her gaze swept over the scene around them. Order enforced through fear—it was a familiar pattern, one she had seen in far too many places. Yet now, standing beside Cullen, it felt more personal. Her trust in him warred with the reality of what the Templars represented here in Kirkwall.
“Feels like a different city,” she said finally, her voice quieter.
“It is,” Cullen replied, his golden eyes darkening with thought. “The Qunari may be gone, but what they left behind…” He trailed off, his tone heavy. “It’s going to take time.”
Ariana’s gaze lingered on the remnants of a collapsed building. Her chest tightened at the sight of an old woman sweeping rubble from her doorstep as if it were a routine chore. “Hightown will rebuild,” she said softly. “But for Lowtown and the Alienage? They’ll be left to pick up the pieces on their own, as always.”
Cullen’s brow furrowed, and he glanced at her, his steps slowing. “You care deeply about this city.”
“It’s not the city,” she corrected, her lips curving into a faint smile. “It’s the people—the ones who can’t fight back, the ones who are always forgotten.” Her words hung in the air, unspoken truths passing between them.
They walked on in silence, each lost in their thoughts until Cullen broke it. “Thank you,” he said quietly, his voice almost hesitant.
Ariana tilted her head, puzzled. “For what?”
“For trusting me,” he said, his gaze fixed ahead. “For letting me take care of you when you needed it most.”
She stopped, pulling gently on his arm to make him face her. Her hazel-green eyes softened as they met his, her voice steady but filled with quiet conviction. “Cullen, you don’t need to thank me. I’ve always trusted you with my life.” She paused, her voice lowering as she added, “I’m sorry I put you through that.”
The weight of her words lingered between them, the air charged with something unspoken but deeply understood. Cullen’s lips parted as if to respond, but he seemed to think better of it, nodding instead.
As they resumed their walk, Ariana leaned into him a little more, her mind easing despite the pain. For a moment, she wondered if him knowing that she had almost died saving him would be easier or hard for him to deal with.
~~~
As they stepped into the estate, the warm light of the house enveloped Ariana, a welcome contrast to the tense streets outside. The scent of fresh bread and the soft murmur of voices carried from the kitchen, offering a brief moment of reprieve. She barely had time to process the change in atmosphere before the familiar clatter of boots echoed in the hallway.
Hawke appeared first, her stride confident and quick, followed closely by Varric, who carried Bianca with his usual casual ease. Without hesitation, Hawke closed the distance and pulled Ariana into a firm hug.
“Well, well, look who finally decided to grace us with her presence,” Hawke teased, her tone playful yet tinged with relief.
Ariana managed a tired grin. “Champion of Kirkwall,” she said with mock reverence, her voice soft but light. “What an honor to find you sullying my humble home.”
Hawke smirked, stepping back and offering her arm dramatically. “I elevate every place I visit. You’re welcome.”
Varric leaned against the kitchen table, his arms crossed as he chuckled. “Don’t let her fool you, pup. She was pacing outside like a restless mabari before she barged in.”
Isabel, who had been lingering nearby, approached with a warm smile. “It’s good to have you back, my child,” she said softly, wrapping Ariana in a gentle embrace. The steady presence of Isabel’s arms reminded Ariana of the family she had built here, and she allowed herself a moment to relax.
Cullen stood by the door, observing the reunion with quiet detachment. The faintest smile touched his lips, though the tension in his shoulders remained. After a moment, he stepped forward, his hand settling at Ariana’s waist as he drew her close.
“I need to get back. Please get some rest,” he said quietly, his voice low and tinged with reluctance. Leaning down, he pressed a tender kiss to her lips.
Ariana’s breath caught at the gentle urgency in his touch. She returned the kiss, her hand rising to cup his cheek. For a moment, the chaos of the past days faded. When they parted, her gaze softened as she whispered, “I will,” a promise she intended to keep.
Cullen’s golden eyes searched hers, as though ensuring she meant it, before he finally nodded and stepped back. Without another word, he turned and left, the door clicking softly behind him.
The silence that followed was brief.
“Maker’s breath, Ari,” Hawke said, her smirk practically glowing with mischief. “That man is madly in love with you.”
“Oh, he’s completely gone,” Varric added, shaking his head as if in awe. “I’ve seen some things in my time, but this? This takes the cake.”
Ariana’s cheeks flushed faintly, and she groaned, rubbing her temples as though she could block out their voices. “I just got out of the Gallows. Can I have five minutes before the torment begins?”
“Absolutely not,” Hawke declared, crossing her arms with a mock air of authority. “The Knight-Captain of Kirkwall is in love… with you. You’re going to hear about it.”
“And we’re here to make sure you do,” Varric quipped, his grin widening.
Ariana opened her mouth to retort but faltered, Hawke’s words echoing in her mind. Madly in love. It wasn’t that she didn’t feel something—she did, deeply—but she had never put it into words, not even to herself. Did he love her? Did she deserve that? Did he?
The thought made her heart quicken, a mix of warmth and trepidation swelling in her chest. She shook her head, brushing the thoughts aside with a forced laugh. “Fine,” she said, feigning exasperation. “Get it out of your systems now.”
“Not a chance, pup” Varric shot back. “We’re in this for the long haul.”
Once the laughter and teasing died down, Ariana’s smile faded as reality crept back in. “What do I need to know? What happened while I was unconscious in the Gallows?”
Hawke’s smirk disappeared, replaced by a grim seriousness. “With the Viscount dead, Knight-Commander Meredith has stepped in to ‘keep order.’”
Ariana’s hand froze mid-motion, her cup of tea trembling slightly before she set it down. “What?” she asked, disbelief etched in her voice. “A Templar cannot rule the city.”
Varric shrugged, his tone dry. “Technically, she’s not. But with no Viscount and no council to rein her in, she’s running the show. Templars on every corner, curfews, restrictions. Meredith’s version of ‘order’ looks a lot like tyranny.”
Ariana’s fingers curled tightly around the edge of the table, her jaw tightening. “Cullen didn’t mention any of this.”
“Not surprising,” Varric said, leaning back. “He probably doesn’t want you to worry—or maybe he’s just trying to avoid an argument.”
Ariana’s mind raced, piecing together fragments of her conversations with Cullen. “‘Meredith has her priorities,’” she murmured, recalling his words. “Now I see what he meant.” Her voice faltered as the full weight of the situation sank in.
“What are you talking about, pup?” Varric asked, his head tilting.
“Cullen’s words,” Ariana said, her voice tinged with realization. “I made a comment about Meredith likely not being happy that I was in the Gallows, and that was his response. I remember thinking it was an odd thing to say, but now it makes sense.” Her words trailed off as the implications of Meredith’s increasing control settled over her.
Hawke’s gaze darkened. “This is exactly what everyone feared. The Qunari left destruction in their wake, and Meredith’s using it to seize more control. If she keeps this up, Kirkwall will tear itself apart.”
Ariana clenched her fists, a dull ache blooming in her ribs as her tension grew. “This… this is what the Divine feared,” she muttered, her mind flashing back to their conversations. The fractures in Kirkwall were deepening, and Meredith’s power grab would only widen them.
“And the Templars?” she asked, her voice sharper now. “Are they targeting anyone? The mages?”
Varric’s expression softened slightly. “Not yet. Meredith’s focused on ‘restoring order.’ Lowtown’s a mess, but most of the Rangers are staying under the radar. No direct trouble so far.”
Ariana exhaled, though her shoulders remained tense. “For now, that’s a relief. But we need to stay vigilant. If Meredith’s control grows, she’s going to start looking for enemies, real or imagined.”
Varric leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table. “The question is, what are we going to do about it? I don’t think the White Wolf or the Champion can just sit back and watch this happen.”
Hawke crossed her arms, her tone heavy with frustration. “It’s not just mages anymore. She’s tightening her grip on everyone. If she keeps this up, there’ll be riots—and then she’ll use that as an excuse to crack down even harder.”
Ariana rubbed her temples, her thoughts spinning. “First, we need to figure out just how far she’s willing to go. If this escalates, the last thing we need is open conflict between the Templars and the people.”
“And Cullen?” Varric asked cautiously. “What does the Knight-Captain think of all this?”
Ariana hesitated, her chest tightening. Cullen couldn’t be blind to Meredith’s flaws, but could he see how dangerous her control had become? “I don’t know,” she admitted quietly. “But I need to find out.”
Silence settled over them, the weight of their precarious situation pressing down on all of them. Finally, Hawke broke the quiet, her tone laced with wry amusement. “Speaking of heroic feats, word’s spreading about the White Wolf saving the Gallows.”
Ariana’s brow furrowed. “And?”
Hawke smirked. “And apparently, your Knight-Captain is looking for you.”
Ariana blinked, her pulse quickening. “What?”
Varric chuckled. “It’s true. He’s been asking around Lowtown, trying to track down the mysterious White Wolf.”
Her stomach churned. Cullen was hunting her, though he didn’t even realize it. “You know,” she said slowly, “he didn’t even mention the White Wolf when we talked about the attack.” she muttered, her voice tinged with frustration and something else—hurt.
Hawke raised an eyebrow, her grin fading slightly. “Really? After all that?”
“Not a word,” Ariana muttered, her tone tinged with something close to hurt. “The Gallows would have fallen to the Qunari without me, Valentina, and Lamberto. He would have been injured—or worse—and yet he’s looking for me?”
“Well, you did save his life,” Hawke said, her grin softening. “Maybe he’s just curious.”
Ariana’s jaw tightened. “Or maybe he still sees the White Wolf as a threat. A risk to his precious order.”
Her words carried a bitter edge, but she couldn’t entirely blame him. Cullen didn’t know the White Wolf had been injured, didn’t know the risk she’d taken. And yet, it stung that he couldn’t see the good the Rangers were doing.
The room fell quiet for a moment, the weight of her words hanging in the air. Varric broke the silence with a soft chuckle. “Well, if it helps, Valentina and Lamberto left him with a lasting impression.”
Ariana’s brow arched as a smile tugged at her lips. “Of course they did, they’re both Antivan.”
Hawke chuckled, shaking her head. “I would’ve paid to see Cullen’s face.”
Ariana laughed softly, she could definitely imagine the exchange and Cullen’s frustration with whatever it was that Valentina and Lamberto said.
“For now,” Varric replied, his tone turning more serious, “no one seems to have a clear lead on where to find the White Wolf. Lay low,” Varric advised. “The more visible the White Wolf is, the harder it’ll be to keep the Rangers safe. Meredith’s got eyes everywhere, and if she catches wind of anything…”
Ariana sighed, her hand brushing through her hair as she leaned against the counter. “I’ll keep a low profile,” she said finally. “For now. Guess it’s up to you, Champion of Kirkwall…”
But her mind remained tangled in conflict. Cullen—the man she trusted above all others—was now unknowingly searching for her other self. The irony gnawed at her, but the ache in her chest was harder to ignore. Safe as she felt in his presence, she couldn’t shake the fear of what would happen if he ever uncovered the truth.
~~~
Ariana sat in the library, the late morning light filtering through the tall windows. The room, usually a sanctuary of quiet reflection, felt oppressive today. The weight of recent events bore down on her shoulders as she stared at the half-written letter in front of her, the ink still glistening faintly. Her pen hovered over the parchment, but the words refused to come.
Isabel entered the room, a warm cup of tea in hand. She placed it gently in front of Ariana before taking the seat across from her, her expression calm yet thoughtful. “No one could have seen this coming, child,” she said, her voice steady and comforting. “You couldn’t have predicted the Qunari would try to take the city. And Meredith… well, she is the sort who sees every crisis as an opportunity. This was a convenient coincidence for her. She likely had contingency plans ready long before this.”
Ariana exhaled sharply, setting the quill down with more force than intended. Frustration etched lines into her otherwise composed features as she stared at the unfinished letter. “Linnea did, she had just told me a few days before the Qunari were growing anxious. We just saw it too late.,” she said, her voice heavy with self-reproach. “But Meredith… if she has consolidated this much power, what does that say about how effective I’ve been here?”
“That she consolidated it before you even got here,” Isabel replied pointedly, leaning forward. Her tone softened, but her words remained firm. “You’re not responsible for this any more than you were for the Blight. You cannot take on the world alone, no matter how much you might want to.”
A bitter chuckle escaped Ariana as she shook her head, a rueful smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “No, I just want to stop it from falling apart.”
Isabel’s gaze lingered on her, quiet understanding in her eyes. Ariana sighed and picked up the tea, the warmth of the cup grounding her momentarily. She took a slow sip, savoring the calming taste before setting it back down. “I need to get word to the Divine. And Riley…” She hesitated, her fingers drumming lightly against the table. “If this is heading where I think it is, we’ll need to start evacuating a lot more mages than we have been. I’ll need the Divine’s permission—and more Rangers in Kirkwall.”
Isabel tilted her head, her expression unreadable for a moment before she nodded. “It’s a dangerous move,” she said, her tone measured. “But if anyone can manage it, it’s you. Write to the Divine. Tell her everything. If she sent you here, then she knew this might happen.”
Ariana’s brow furrowed as she considered Isabel’s words. “Riley is going to kill me,” she said, raising an eyebrow as she glanced at Isabel. “I’ll be surprised if she doesn’t show up herself.”
Isabel’s lips curved into a small smirk. “Riley might curse you for the work you’re about to pile on her,” she replied, her tone teasing. “But she believes in you and what the Rangers stand for.”
Ariana smiled faintly, shaking her head as a flicker of warmth broke through her otherwise somber demeanor. “She’s going to have a few choice words for me in her reply, no doubt.”
“And every one of them well-deserved,” Isabel quipped, her laughter light but genuine. “But she’ll do what needs to be done, just as you will.”
Ariana leaned back in her chair, her hazel-green eyes thoughtful as they wandered to the parchment in front of her. “One of the healers at the Circle recognized me,” she said suddenly, her voice quieter. “He thanked me for saving his friend. Said he wouldn’t let me die.”
Isabel’s expression sobered, her brow furrowing slightly. “He knows who you are?”
Ariana nodded, her gaze distant. “I didn’t know how to respond. But in that moment…” She paused, her voice growing steadier. “It reminded me why we’re doing this. Why we have to keep fighting. If not us, then who?”
Isabel reached out, placing a comforting hand over Ariana’s. “You’ve done more for this city than most would dare to dream. Don’t lose sight of that.”
Ariana squeezed Isabel’s hand briefly before turning her focus back to the letter. Determination replaced the doubt in her eyes as she dipped her quill into the ink. “Then I guess it’s time to put all of this into motion,” she said resolutely. “Let’s hope the Divine is as prepared to act as we are.”