29 Drakonis – 3 Cloudreach 9:34
Cullen made his way through the bustling streets of Kirkwall’s Alienage, his gaze sharp as he scanned each face, each shadowed corner. His mind, however, was elsewhere—tangled in the same thread of doubt he couldn’t escape. Every person he spoke to spoke of the White Wolf as a hero, their voices thick with gratitude, their eyes filled with reverence.
A young woman stepped forward, clutching her child to her chest. “The White Wolf saved my family. They made sure we got out before the Qunari hit the docks. Without them, we wouldn’t be here.”
Cullen nodded, his expression unreadable. “Do you know where they are now?”
The woman shook her head, her eyes a mix of sorrow and admiration. “The White Wolf comes and goes like a shadow. But I’ll never forget what they did for us.”
Cullen’s lips tightened. The praise, the stories—they gnawed at him. Why didn’t they just leave it alone? Every encounter was the same. Heroism. Selflessness. No questions asked. He couldn’t understand it. It didn’t fit with what he believed to be true. He had spent years learning that people who worked outside the law, without accountability, were dangerous. So why did the White Wolf’s actions seem different? Why did it feel as though something was being hidden?
Frustration bubbled beneath the surface as he walked toward Lowtown, the scent of salt from the docks mingling with the air. That’s when he heard it, the familiar voice of Varric, always ready with a quip.
“Well, well, what brings our esteemed Knight-Captain down to the dregs of Lowtown?” Varric called, leaning casually against a support beam, his ever-present Bianca slung across his back. Hawke stood beside him, arms crossed, a grin tugging at her lips.
“I’m investigating rumors about the White Wolf,” Cullen said tightly, his frustration slipping through in his tone.
Varric raised an eyebrow. “Ah, the infamous White Wolf. Hero to some, enigma to all. What’s got you chasing shadows, Knight-Captain?”
“Trying to verify the claims people keep making,” Cullen replied, his voice clipped. “About their supposed heroics.”
“Which ones?” Varric tilted his head, a knowing look in his eyes. “Do you mean the time they saved the Knight-Captain of the Templars and the Gallows from the Qunari? Because that’s a story worth hearing again.”
Hawke chuckled. “Maybe I’ll have to share the title of Champion of Kirkwall, given they’ve apparently saved the city just as many times as I have.” She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Champion and White Wolf… it has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”
Varric chuckled. “Can a city even have two Champions? There’d have to be some kind of duel. For dramatic effect, of course.”
Cullen’s patience, already thin, snapped. “You’re joking, but how can you trust someone who works for coin?” he snapped. “A mercenary doesn’t act out of the goodness of their heart.”
Hawke’s mock-offense was immediate, her hand over her chest. “And here I thought we were friends, Cullen. You wound me.”
“You’re not a mercenary,” Cullen said, exasperation bleeding through his words.
Varric and Hawke exchanged a knowing glance, and then Varric leaned in, his voice low. “Hate to break it to you, Curly, but we did make quite a bit of coin off that Deep Roads expedition. Purely out of the goodness of our hearts, naturally.”
“And people do pay me for my services,” Hawke added with a grin. “Does that make me untrustworthy too?”
Cullen opened his mouth to respond but found himself at a loss. Frustration flared, and he shook his head. “This isn’t getting me anywhere,” he muttered, turning to leave.
“Good luck with your search, Knight-Captain,” Varric called after him, amusement still evident in his voice.
Cullen’s steps quickened, his thoughts a tangled mess. His investigation had led him nowhere. Every turn felt like a dead end, and yet people spoke so highly of the White Wolf. Could they really be as noble as they seemed? Could someone truly act selflessly without expecting anything in return? He thought of Ariana, and a wave of doubt swept over him. Could she be hiding something from him, too? His chest tightened. The question hung in his mind like an unspoken truth—was the White Wolf really a hero, or was this just another mercenary, cloaked in tales of heroism?
By the time he reached the Gallows, Cullen felt no closer to finding the answers he sought. His investigation, his doubts—they seemed to be leading him in circles. Perhaps the White Wolf wasn’t the enigma he needed to solve. Perhaps, instead, it was Ariana.
~~~
Later that evening, Cullen arrived at the estate, his steps hesitant as he entered the courtyard. The dim glow of lanterns illuminated Ariana, lying on one of the stone benches, her gaze fixed on the stars. She looked peaceful, but there was a tension in the way her fingers absently traced the edge of the bench, a silent sign of her inner turmoil.
“You should be in bed,” he said softly, stepping closer.
Ariana turned her head, her hazel-green eyes catching the faint light. Her smile was faint but teasing, though Cullen caught the way her fingers lingered against the edge of the bench, betraying an undercurrent of tension. “I’ve been in bed for days… in your bed… alone,” she added, her tone laced with an edge of humor that felt almost too intentional, as if shielding a deeper thought.
Cullen faltered mid-step, heat creeping up his neck as he cleared his throat. He struggled to keep his composure, forcing himself to focus on her injuries rather than the mental image her words stirred. “You’re still healing,” he said gruffly, his voice betraying a mix of exasperation and concern.
Ariana chuckled softly, her gaze drifting back to the stars. “I just needed this,” she murmured, her voice quieter now, contemplative. “I need an answer.”
Cullen watched her, his arms crossing over his chest. The weight of the past few days pressed heavily on him—seeing her injured, not knowing if she would wake, and now, sensing the unspoken question behind her teasing words. Her veiled deflection unsettled him, leaving him wondering what answer she was searching for beneath the surface. He couldn’t decide if her humor was a shield or a lifeline.
She shifted slightly, wincing as her ribs protested the movement. Cullen frowned, stepping closer. “An answer to what?”
Ariana’s fingers stilled against the stone as she glanced at him, her lips parting as if to speak but hesitating. He watched her carefully, the way her brows furrowed and her eyes seemed to hold a storm of unspoken thoughts. Was she trying to say something but holding back?
Finally, she spoke, her voice low and deliberate. “I heard a rumor…”
Cullen exhaled, his lips quirking into a faint, reluctant smile. He moved to sit beside her, giving her room to adjust so she could lay her head on his lap. “What is it this time?” he asked, his tone lighter as he ran a hand through her hair.
Ariana glanced up at him, her eyes glinting with something he couldn’t quite place. “I heard the White Wolf saved the ‘Knight-Captain of Kirkwall’ and the Gallows from falling to the Qunari…” she let the words trail off, her expression carefully neutral.
Cullen’s hand stilled for a moment before resuming its gentle motion through her hair. His investigation had replayed the story over and over in his mind, but hearing it now, tied to her voice, brought the memory into sharper focus—the chaos of the docks, the White Wolf standing between him and death, the sense of relief and confusion that followed. “They helped. Yes.”
Ariana tilted her head slightly, her cheek still resting on his lap. “That seems to trouble you…” she said softly, her voice probing yet calm.
He hesitated, his eyes tracing the constellations above. “It doesn’t trouble me that they helped,” he said slowly, his voice measured. “What troubles me is not knowing their true intentions.”
“Their intentions?” Ariana echoed, her tone curious but tinged with feigned nonchalance.
“The White Wolf,” Cullen said, his tone softening as he struggled to articulate his thoughts. “They operate outside the law, outside accountability. They make choices without oversight. Yes, they saved lives, but what happens when those choices go wrong? When innocent people are hurt because of them?”
Ariana’s faint smile faded. “The same thing that happens when the Templars make mistakes,” she said quietly, her voice careful. “Only no one holds them accountable, either.”
Cullen flinched slightly, his jaw tightening. Her words cut deeper than he expected, leaving him questioning not only the Order but his own role within it. He tried to shake the thoughts from his mind, but her words left little room for interpretation. “It’s not the same.”
“Isn’t it?” Ariana’s voice remained soft, but her words were pointed. “The White Wolf saved the Gallows, Cullen. Without them, the Qunari would’ve overrun the docks, and you… you wouldn’t be here right now.”
He looked down at her, conflicted. “I’m not denying what they did,” he said. “I’m grateful they intervened. But their methods, their motivations—those are the things I can’t overlook.”
Ariana shifted, propping herself up just enough to meet his gaze. Her eyes searched his, as if trying to understand his meaning. “What do you think their motivations are?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Cullen hesitated, his brow furrowing as he considered her question. “I don’t know,” he admitted finally. “And that’s what makes it dangerous. People like the White Wolf… they don’t answer to anyone. How do you trust someone like that?”
Ariana held his gaze for a moment before responding. “What if their motivation was simple?” she asked, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her. “What if it was just… to help people?”
Cullen’s thoughts spiraled. Could it really be that simple? Could someone fight for others without expecting anything in return? The idea felt foreign, almost naive, yet her words carried an undeniable sincerity.
“If that’s true,” he said quietly, “then I want to believe in them. But belief doesn’t erase the risks.”
Ariana’s lips curved into a faint, bittersweet smile. “Everyone’s dangerous to someone, Cullen. Even you.”
Her words left him speechless. Dangerous. The word felt like a blade turned inward. He’d spent years trying to be a protector, a shield for others, yet she was right. Even his best intentions could harm those he cared for.
The quiet stretched on as Cullen’s gaze shifted back to the stars. Finally, he spoke, his voice soft and steady. “What do you think of them?”
Ariana closed her eyes, the ghost of a smile playing on her lips. “I think they’re doing their best,” she said. “Just like the rest of us.”
Her words lingered in the air, and Cullen found himself unable to look away from her. There was something about the way she spoke, the quiet conviction in her voice, that both comforted and unsettled him.
Cullen’s hand moved gently through Ariana’s hair, the strands slipping between his fingers like silk. The courtyard’s stillness felt fragile, as though the weight of their words might shatter it. Her presence, both calming and disquieting, grounded him. Finally, he broke the silence, his voice low and steady, devoid of reproach. “Who is he, Ari?”
Her reaction was instantaneous. Her eyes snapped open, the barest flicker of alarm breaking through her composed mask. Cullen noted how her fingers gripped the bench’s edge for a fraction of a second before she stilled them, as though trying to maintain her outward calm. There was a subtle shift in her breathing, a tension that hadn’t been there a moment ago, and it only deepened his unease. She tilted her head slightly, her expression measured as she met his gaze. “Why do you think I know?” she replied, her tone careful, yet there was an undercurrent of something he couldn’t quite name—defiance or perhaps fear?
He felt the ache of her guardedness, a familiar weight that tightened his chest. Drawing a deep breath, he let his hand still, resting it gently against her hair. “You said the Silver Rangers saved you during the Blight.”
Her exhale was barely audible, but the subtle tension in her shoulders betrayed her. Cullen noticed everything—every slight shift, every flicker of emotion she tried to suppress. Her reply came calmly, though he sensed the careful crafting of each word. “The White Wolf wasn’t there then.”
His brow furrowed slightly as he nodded, her words sinking into the pool of doubts swirling within him. “Yet you still have friends among them,” he said, his voice soft but insistent, probing without accusation.
“I don’t ask questions they won’t answer,” she said simply, her gaze drifting back to the stars. Her tone held an air of finality, and for a moment, he considered letting it go. But the unspoken truths between them weighed heavily, a barrier he couldn’t seem to breach.
Cullen sighed and leaned back slightly, his eyes following hers to the sky. The tension between them remained palpable, unspoken questions hanging in the air. Before he could decide whether to press further, her voice drew him back.
“Cullen?” she asked tentatively, her tone softer now, almost hesitant. “Why is Knight-Commander Meredith in charge of Kirkwall right now? No Templar should ever be in that position.”
Her words struck a chord, his posture stiffening as if bracing himself against their weight. He felt a familiar tension coil within him, a sharp reminder of the precarious balance he walked between duty and doubt. The mere mention of Meredith always brought his deepest fears to the surface: the fear of failing his men, the city, and her. It wasn’t just Meredith’s authority he questioned, but his own ability to stand firm against what he knew was a dangerous path. His hand paused its gentle motion, and his jaw tightened imperceptibly. “It’s not ideal,” he admitted cautiously. “But with the Viscount dead and no clear successor, someone had to step in to maintain order.”
Ariana’s brow furrowed, her gaze unwavering. “But why her? Why Meredith?” she pressed, her voice restrained but sharp. “There are other leaders in Kirkwall, other people who could have taken on that responsibility.”
He exhaled slowly, choosing his words with care. “Because no one else stepped forward,” he said, his tone measured. “The city was in chaos after the Qunari attack. The people needed a leader—someone who could act decisively. And for better or worse, Meredith is… decisive.”
“Decisive,” she echoed bitterly, her voice laced with skepticism. “Or power-hungry? You cannot tell me that you think this is right, Cullen. A Templar overseeing the city, ruling over mages and civilians alike? This is not how it is supposed to work.”
Her words cut deeper than she likely intended, and Cullen’s jaw clenched. “I am not blind to the problems,” he said, his voice steady but strained. “But the Knight-Commander has done what she believes is necessary to protect Kirkwall.”
“And you support her?” Ariana’s voice softened, but the question carried a sharp edge.
Cullen hesitated, the weight of her gaze and her words pressing down on him. “I serve the Order,” he said finally, his tone low. “And right now, that means following her lead. But that does not mean I agree with everything she does.”
Her expression didn’t waver as she leaned forward slightly, her eyes searching his face. “Then why stay silent?” she asked, her voice quieter but no less pointed. “If you see the cracks, the dangers in what she’s doing, why not speak out?”
He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Because dissent in the ranks would only make things worse,” he said firmly. “If the Templars are divided, the city will descend into chaos again. I cannot risk that.”
Ariana closed her eyes briefly, her expression torn between understanding and frustration. “I know you believe in the Order, Cullen,” she said softly. “But belief without question… that is dangerous.”
Her words struck him, the vulnerability in her tone piercing through his defenses. He looked at her, his throat tightening. “And what would you have me do, Ariana? Defy my Knight-Commander? Turn my back on the Order?”
“I do not know,” she admitted, her voice a whisper. “But I know this is not the path to peace. Meredith ruling this city… it will tear Kirkwall apart.”
Cullen’s shoulders sagged slightly, her conviction pressing heavily on him. “I’ll admit, it troubles me too,” he said quietly. “But until someone steps forward to challenge her authority, I do not see another path.”
Ariana’s gaze softened, her determination simmering just beneath the surface. “I suppose we both have our hands tied, then,” she murmured. “But Cullen… know this: the fate of Kirkwall is in your hands. You are the only person in this city with the power to stop Meredith.” Her words lingered between them, the weight of her trust and expectation settling on his shoulders.
He swallowed hard, her statement reverberating through him. “I’ll… keep my eyes open,” he said finally, his voice steady but subdued. “And I’ll do what I can to ensure that no harm comes to the people of Kirkwall.”
Her lips curved into a faint, weary smile. “I know you will,” she replied, though her mind was already turning, considering the next step forward.
Cullen took a deep breath, the weight of their conversation settling heavily on him. He didn’t want to argue with her—not about Meredith, not about the White Wolf. Yet her words had stirred something within him, an uncomfortable awareness of his own authority, of what it might mean if he chose to act against Meredith. But she was right. The power to make that choice lay with him.
He reached out again, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “Ari…” he began, his voice faltering as he hesitated. “I… don’t know what I would have done had I lost you…”
Her gaze softened, and she sat up carefully, turning to face him fully despite the faint protest of her injuries. “You didn’t,” she said, her voice gentle yet firm. Wrapping her arms around him, she pulled him into a reassuring embrace. “I’m still here.”
Cullen held her close, his arms encircling her protectively. He closed his eyes, his chin resting lightly against her shoulder. The weight of unspoken words and unresolved tensions faded for a moment as the quiet of the courtyard enveloped them. His grip tightened slightly, a silent acknowledgment of the bond between them and the burdens they each carried.
For now, they clung to the fragile peace of the moment, each drawing strength from the other as the shadows of Kirkwall loomed ever closer.
~~~
Ariana sat in the library, her movements deliberate and measured, her fingers idly tracing patterns on the armrest of her chair. The faintest wince tugged at her features as she shifted, the ache in her ribs a constant reminder of the injuries she had sustained. She could still feel the phantom sting of the blade that had run her through and the sharp, dull pain of her now bruised ribs with every breath. But she refused to let it show beyond the occasional flicker of discomfort.
The door creaked open, revealing Valentina, Lamberto, and Linnea. All three regarded Ariana with a mixture of amusement and exasperation.
“There she is, our fearless leader,” Valentina drawled, a grin tugging at her lips. “Sitting here like she hasn’t been stabbed through and through.”
Ariana smirked, leaning back slightly despite the flare of pain. “I’m resting, as you can see. Isn’t that what you’ve all been nagging me to do?”
“Resting?” Linnea raised an eyebrow, her tone laced with dry humor. “More like brooding in style.”
“I don’t brood,” Ariana shot back, her smirk widening. “I reflect. It’s very noble of me.”
Lamberto snorted, his arms crossed. “Sure, Wolf. And I’m a Chantry sister.”
Valentina chuckled, dropping into a chair opposite Ariana. “You know, for someone who’s supposed to be lying low, you’ve been anything but subtle. Cullen carrying you to the Circle? That’s not exactly keeping a low profile.”
“He carried Ariana Trevelyan, not the White Wolf.” Ariana’s smirk faltered. “Wait, you didn’t report this to Riley, did you?”
Valentina’s grin widened. “Oh, we absolutely did. She needed to know how spectacularly bad you are at following your own plans.”
Ariana groaned, running a hand down her face. “Maker’s breath, Val. I’ll be getting an earful from her any day now.”
“If by earful you mean a letter long enough to make a mage’s dissertation look like a love note,” Linnea quipped, her tone teasing. “She’s not going to let this slide, you know.”
“She’ll probably show up here just to drag you back to bed,” Lamberto added with a grin.
Ariana sighed dramatically, shaking her head. “And here I thought I was leading the Silver Rangers, not a group of nursemaids.”
“Someone has to keep you in one piece,” Valentina said with a smirk. “Not that you make it easy.”
Linnea’s gaze flicked to Ariana’s side, her expression softening just slightly. “You’re still moving like you’re one good laugh away from cracking in half. How long are we going to have to put up with you pretending you’re fine?”
“As long as it takes,” Ariana replied lightly, though the slight tightness in her voice betrayed her. “I’ve had worse.”
“Oh, of course you have,” Valentina said with mock seriousness. “You’re invincible, after all. Our indestructible leader.”
“Exactly,” Ariana said with a grin, ignoring the ache in her ribs as she adjusted her posture. “Now, anything new to report? Or are you here just to give me a hard time?”
Linnea crossed her arms, her smirk returning. “Actually, we do have news. Cullen’s been sniffing around about the White Wolf. Guess who he ran into while questioning people in the Alienage?”
Ariana’s curiosity was piqued. “Who?”
“Varric and Hawke,” Linnea said, her eyes gleaming with amusement. “They had quite the conversation. Apparently, Hawke’s wondering if she’ll have to share her Champion title with you.”
Ariana laughed softly, the sound warm despite her lingering discomfort. “I can only imagine how that went. Poor Cullen.”
“Oh, it was beautiful,” Valentina said, her grin widening. “Hawke and Varric turned his questions right back on him, had him all flustered.”
“And when he asked how anyone could trust a mercenary,” Linnea added, “Hawke acted all offended. It was priceless.”
“I owe them both a drink,” Ariana said with a chuckle.
Valentina leaned forward, her tone softening. “Wolf, you’ve got people looking out for you—even when you’re too stubborn to look out for yourself.”
Ariana’s smile softened, her eyes meeting Valentina’s. “I know. And I appreciate it. Even if you all drive me mad sometimes.”
Lamberto chuckled, his voice low but warm. “That’s our job.”
The room settled into a comfortable quiet, the banter easing into a shared sense of camaraderie. Despite the weight of their worries, the bond between them remained steadfast. She hadn’t said it to anyone, not to them, but she missed them. She missed not having to hide. She missed living and working with the Rangers day to day.
Linnea broke the silence, her voice quieter now. “You know, Cullen’s not just asking about the White Wolf because of what happened at the docks. It’s more than that.”
Ariana’s gaze flicked to Linnea, her brow furrowing slightly. “What do you mean?”
“I overheard him talking to someone in the market,” Linnea said. “He’s not just curious—he’s conflicted. Like he’s trying to figure out if he can trust them. Trust you.”
Ariana’s chest tightened, her fingers curling slightly against the armrest. “Did he say anything else?” she asked, her voice steady despite the unease stirring within her.
Linnea shook her head. “No, but it’s clear he’s grappling with more than just the White Wolf’s reputation. I think… he’s trying to make sense of everything he’s been taught.”
Ariana nodded slowly, her thoughts churning. She’d known Cullen was questioning things, but hearing it confirmed added a new weight to her already heavy burden. Her lips pressed into a thin line, her mind racing to reconcile her roles—as Ariana Trevelyan, as the White Wolf, and as someone who loved Cullen.
“You’ll figure it out, Wolf,” Valentina said softly, her voice filled with quiet assurance. “You always do.”
Ariana’s gaze softened as she looked at her Rangers. “Not without all of you,” she replied, her voice thick with gratitude. For now, she would carry the weight of her secrets, but she knew she wasn’t alone.
~~~
Ariana paced the length of her bedroom, her bare feet silent against the cool wooden floor. She had dismissed Valentina, Lamberto, and Linnea hours ago, but their words clung to her like a persistent shadow. The faint scent of lavender and parchment filled the room, mingling with the distant hum of the city beyond the estate walls. She tried to focus on the rhythmic rustle of the trees outside, but her mind refused to settle.
Cullen was investigating the White Wolf. She knew it was inevitable, yet the knowledge twisted in her chest. Every step he took closer to the truth felt like a step away from her. She hated the secrecy, the fragile balance between who she was and who he thought she was. The weight of it all seemed unbearable tonight.
Her gaze drifted to the balcony, where the moonlight spilled across the floor like a silver invitation. She leaned against the railing, nursing a glass of wine, the cool night air brushing against her skin. She had changed into her favored blue house robe, the fabric loose and comfortable, but it did little to ease the tension coiled within her. The stars above offered no answers, only silent, distant company.
The faint creak of the bedroom door pulled her from her thoughts. Turning too quickly, she winced as her ribs protested the motion, but her breath caught when she saw Cullen step inside. His armor was gone, replaced by the soft linen of his undershirt and trousers, his golden hair slightly mussed as though he’d been running his hands through it. Relief washed over her, momentarily softening the edges of her restlessness.
“Cullen,” she greeted softly, a smile creeping onto her lips. “I was beginning to think I wouldn’t see you tonight.”
“I wasn’t sure if I should come,” he admitted, his voice low as he crossed the room to stand before her. “But I needed to see you.”
Ariana’s smile faltered for a moment as she searched his face. His golden eyes held a storm of emotions—conflict, worry, and something deeper that she couldn’t quite name. She set her glass down and reached for his hand, her touch gentle but firm. “You’re here now,” she said, her voice a quiet reassurance.
Cullen exhaled slowly, his shoulders relaxing under her touch. “I couldn’t stop thinking about our conversation earlier… about Meredith, the White Wolf,” he began, his tone hesitant. “It’s all… complicated.”
“It is,” Ariana agreed, her fingers tightening slightly around his. She guided him toward the seating area, the soft glow of the fireplace casting flickering shadows on the walls. “But for tonight, let’s not think about Meredith or Kirkwall. Just for tonight.”
Her words hung in the air, a quiet plea that Cullen couldn’t ignore. He nodded, allowing her to pull him down onto the plush settee beside her. Silence settled between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the kind of quiet that spoke of shared burdens and unspoken understanding.
“Ari,” he said after a moment, his voice softer now, edged with a fragile intensity. “I can’t lose you. Promise me you’ll be careful, that you’ll never do something like that again.”
She turned to him, her hazel-green eyes shimmering in the firelight, reflecting a quiet conflict. “You know I can’t promise that,” she said softly, her hand coming up to rest against his cheek. “But I’ll try.”
His breath hitched as he leaned into her touch, his eyes searching hers as though grounding himself in her presence. His voice dropped, raw and sincere. “I need you, Ari. More than you know. I can’t—” He broke off, his throat tight, the weight of his fears unspoken but palpable. “Please, just… stay safe.”
Her heart ached at his vulnerability, her fingers brushing lightly along his jaw. “I’ll do my best,” she promised, her voice steady despite the storm within her. “But Cullen, I need you to trust me. Even when it’s hard.”
He nodded slowly, his thumb brushing against her cheek as though committing the moment to memory. “I do,” he murmured. “And that’s what terrifies me.”
Her breath caught as she considered the words forming on her lips, her heart hammering against her ribs as she grasped the magnitude of what she was about to ask. This wasn’t just a plea for comfort—it was a step into something uncharted, an admission of her deepest longing, and the fragile hope that he would understand. “Stay with me tonight,” she whispered, her voice trembling with quiet vulnerability, each word carrying the weight of her longing. “Let’s forget everything else… just for tonight.”
Her words hung between them like a fragile thread, connecting their shared fears and unspoken desires. Cullen’s gaze softened, his hand cradling her cheek as though grounding them both in the gravity of the moment. Cullen’s gaze softened, his thumb brushing gently along her cheek. “Ariana,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion, “are you sure?”
The way Cullen said her name had never changed—it carried a weight, a reverence, and a sensuality that sent shivers down her spine every time. Ariana’s heart raced as Cullen’s words lingered in the air between them. His hesitation, though brief, was clear in the way his hand rested against her cheek.
But she was certain. More certain than she had ever been about anything in her life. “Cullen, I love you. I’m sure,” she said softly, her resolve clear. “I want this. I want you.”
Cullen’s eyes met hers then, his golden gaze filled with a tenderness that stole the air from her lungs. She felt the faintest tremor in his hands, a reflection of the storm swirling within her own chest. His lips met hers with a tenderness that carried the weight of every unspoken word, every moment they had held back. The kiss was slow and deliberate, a quiet affirmation of the love that had always been there, waiting for the right moment to bloom. It was slow, deliberate, yet filled with a passion that had been held back for far too long.
Ariana’s fingers slid up, weaving into the hair at the nape of his neck as she pressed herself closer, her body responding instinctively to his touch. Every sensation was heightened—the roughness of his stubble against her skin, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her palms, the way his breath hitched as her lips moved against his. She felt as though she were on the edge of something vast and uncharted, her body alight with a sensation she had never known.
Cullen’s hands moved to cradle her face, his thumbs brushing gently over her cheekbones as he deepened the kiss. His care, his reverence, was palpable, and it sent a shiver down her spine. When they finally broke apart, both breathing heavily, his forehead rested against hers again, and he whispered, “Tell me if you want me to stop.”
“Don’t stop,” she replied without hesitation, her voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions coursing through her.
His lips curved into a faint smile before he kissed her again, slower this time, as though savoring every moment. His hands slid down to her thighs, his grip firm yet tender as he lifted her effortlessly. Ariana let out a soft gasp as he carried her to the bed, her arms wrapping instinctively around his neck. The world beyond the walls of her room faded into insignificance; there was only Cullen, only the way he looked at her as though she were the only thing that mattered.
He set her down gently, his hands lingering on her waist. Her body responded to his touch, a warmth spreading through her that chased away any lingering nerves. She reached for him, her fingers brushing against his jaw as she guided him down to her, their lips meeting once more in a kiss that left her breathless. His lips traced a deliberate path from her mouth to the curve of her jaw, lingering just enough to draw a soft sigh from her, before descending to the sensitive skin of her neck, where each kiss ignited a fresh rush of warmth that left her breathless. Each touch sent a surge of heat through her, her body responding in ways that felt both unfamiliar and intoxicating. She felt weightless, untethered, yet grounded by his steady presence—the quiet strength in his arms, the way his heartbeat thrummed steadily against her, anchoring her in the moment. His lips curved into a faint, almost shy smile before he leaned in to kiss her again, this time with a deeper intensity. They sank onto the bed, their movements unhurried as they explored each other. Every touch, every kiss, was a revelation to Ariana, her body coming alive beneath his hands. She felt as though she were discovering herself anew, guided by the unspoken language between them.
Cullen’s touch was everywhere—firm yet tender, deliberate yet reverent. He seemed to memorize every inch of her. Her breath hitched with every kiss, every caress, her body arching toward his as though drawn by an invisible force.
For Cullen, it was as though every barrier that had ever stood between them had melted away—the weight of his guilt, the fear of failing her, and the unspoken doubts that had lingered in the quiet moments of their lives. With her in his arms, all those walls crumbled, leaving only the undeniable truth of their love. His love for her was a palpable thing, a steady flame that burned brighter with every sigh, every whisper of his name that fell from her lips. He held her as though she were a treasure that could never be replaced, unyielding in her strength yet deserving of the gentlest touch, his every movement a careful balance of passion and restraint.
As the night wore on, the room was filled with the soft rustle of sheets, the gentle cadence of their breathing, and the quiet murmurs of affection exchanged between kisses. Their movements were seamless, a dance of two souls who had waited years for this moment.
Ariana had never felt anything like it—the way her body responded to Cullen, the way her heart seemed to beat in time with his. She felt safe, cherished, and utterly alive. Every touch, every kiss, carried a weight of love and longing that made her ache in the best possible way.
When they finally lay entwined beneath the covers, the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the curtains, Ariana rested her head against Cullen’s chest. His fingers traced lazy patterns along her back, his other hand gently combing through her hair. She felt a peace she hadn’t known was possible, her body sated and her heart full.
Cullen pressed a kiss to her hair, lingering there as though savoring the moment. “Are you all right?” he murmured softly, his voice a low rumble in the silence.
“Better than all right,” she whispered, her voice soft against his skin.
Cullen tightened his hold on her slightly, as if to remind himself she was real—that this moment was real.
“I love you,” he said again, his voice rough but steady.
She smiled as she pressed a kiss to his chest before settling against him once more. “I love you too,” she murmured, her voice carrying the same quiet certainty it had earlier, her eyes growing heavy with the pull of sleep. In his arms, she felt whole, and as her eyes drifted closed, she knew with unwavering certainty that he was her home.
~~~
Ariana woke to the soft glow of dawn breaking through the curtains, the golden light warming the room. For a moment, she simply lay there, in his arms, the steady rise and fall of his chest grounding her. She felt a sense of peace, of safety, she had never known—like an anchor amidst a storm. The events of the night before lingered in her mind, bringing a small, genuine smile to her lips.
She turned her head, her gaze falling on Cullen, still fast asleep beside her. The lines of worry and duty that so often marked his features had softened, replaced by a quiet calm. Her smile deepened as she watched him for a moment, unable to help the warmth that spread through her chest.
Careful not to disturb him, she began to slip out of bed. She glanced around for her clothes but paused when her eyes fell on Cullen’s shirt draped over a nearby chair. Without thinking, she picked it up, the fabric soft and carrying his familiar scent.
This will do. She slipped it on, the shirt hanging loosely over her frame but comfortably. The sleeves fell well past her hands, but that only made her chuckle quietly to herself. It was an odd sort of comfort, yet one that made her feel strangely at ease, as though his presence remained with her.
Padding quietly across the room, she decided to fetch some coffee. The house was quiet in the early morning light, the faint sound of waves in the distance barely audible. Isabel had left a pot brewing in the kitchen, as if anticipating someone would be up before long. Ariana poured two cups, the warm aroma wrapping around her like a comforting embrace. She allowed herself a moment to simply breathe, to steady herself, before making her way back upstairs.
When she returned to the room, Cullen had begun to stir. His brow furrowed slightly, his hand reaching toward her side of the bed as though searching for her. He blinked slowly, his eyes adjusting to the light. Then he saw her standing there, his shirt draped over her, holding two steaming cups of coffee.
“Good morning,” she said softly, setting the cups on the bedside table. “I thought you might need this.”
A soft, drowsy smile spread across his face, chasing away the last traces of sleep.
As he took the coffee, their fingers brushed briefly, and the warmth of the gesture wasn’t lost on either of them. For a moment, they simply enjoyed the quiet intimacy, the morning sunlight filtering through the curtains.
Cullen blinked as Ariana straddled his lap, her movements confident, yet playful. He couldn’t help but smile, the warmth of her presence instantly dispelling any lingering grogginess. His hands rested lightly on her hips, his coffee momentarily forgotten on the bedside table.
“Good morning to you, too,” he replied, a chuckle escaping as he met her mischievous gaze. There was something about the way her eyes sparkled when she was like this—completely at ease, completely herself—that made his chest tighten in the best possible way. “You… look good in my shirt,” he said, the words slipping out before he could stop them.
Ariana chuckled softly, “I’ll keep that in mind, or more likely just keep the shirt,” she teased.
“Last night,” she began, her voice carrying a teasing lilt, “was better than anything I certainly could have imagined.” Her hands rested on his shoulders, her fingers tracing the lines of his muscles. “I do not know how you are still here after all these years, but… I am glad you thought I was a runaway mage when you met me.”
Cullen let out a laugh, shaking his head. “That’s what you’re thinking about this morning?” he teased, his hands instinctively pulling her just a bit closer. “I’ll admit, I was pretty convinced. A girl like you, alone in the middle of the Fereldan wilderness? You walked into The Spoiled Princess like you had nowhere to go, exhausted but guarded. It didn’t exactly say ‘noble girl running from her obligations.’”
She tilted her head, raising an eyebrow. “I suppose that’s a good thing. You might not have come to my table if you had realized I wasn’t a mage. You might not have fallen for a noble runaway.”
Cullen smirked, his voice dropping to a softer, more sincere tone. “I fell for you, Ariana. Noble or not, mage or not—it wouldn’t have mattered. I was doomed the moment you smiled at me back then.”
Her cheeks warmed at his words, and for once, she found herself momentarily at a loss for words. Instead, she leaned in, her forehead resting against his. “And you had me the moment you asked to join me,” she replied softly, the playful edge in her voice giving way to something deeper, more vulnerable.
They stayed like that for a moment, the quiet intimacy of the morning wrapping around them like a warm embrace, as memories of their first meeting blended seamlessly into the present.
Ariana’s fingers moved idly, tracing the contours of Cullen’s chest and stomach, her touch feather-light yet deliberate, following the ridges of muscles honed by years of training. She wasn’t thinking of anything in particular, just caught up in the quiet intimacy of the moment.
Cullen cleared his throat softly, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he tried to draw her out of her reverie. “Ari,” he said, his voice soft and teasing, though with an edge of restraint, “you’re going to start something neither of us has time to finish.”
Her hand froze mid-trace, and she looked up at him, startled, as if she hadn’t realized what she’d been doing. Her cheeks flushed with color as the weight of his words registered, and she quickly pulled her hand back. “Oh. Right. Sorry,” she said, her voice quieter than usual, the playful edge replaced by an endearing innocence. She shifted, kneeling on the bed beside him instead, her expression a mix of embarrassment and amusement.
Cullen couldn’t help the soft chuckle that escaped him. He reached up, brushing a strand of her hair behind her ear, his hazel eyes warm as they met hers. “Maker…,” he murmured, his voice carrying a quiet reverence. “You really are incredible.”
Ariana blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. She felt her heart flutter, her earlier embarrassment giving way to something far deeper. Her gaze asked the question her lips weren’t voicing, searching his face as if to confirm he truly meant it.
“In every way,” he said, his voice steady, the words falling effortlessly. “You’re strong, brilliant, maddeningly stubborn…” Cullen added, his thumb brushing lightly against her cheek.
Ariana laughed softly, her eyes glimmering with affection. “Maddeningly stubborn?” she teased, though her voice lacked its usual sharpness, softened by the vulnerability of the moment.
He smiled, his own amusement mingling with the sincerity in his expression. “Completely maddening,” he confirmed, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “But I wouldn’t change a thing.”
A knock on the door interrupted the moment, Cullen’s face quickly gaining a mix of confusion and nervousness as the realization struck—he was still completely naked, and Ariana was barely dressed, wearing only his shirt from the night before, clearly oversized for her but no less flattering.
As he turned to her, the mild panic in his expression was met with nothing but her mischievous smile. “Come in,” she said casually, much to his horror.
Cullen turned to her sharply, eyes wide. “Ari!” he hissed, barely able to keep his voice down, his cheeks coloring deeply.
The door opened to reveal a slim elven woman carrying a neatly folded set of clothes. “Isabel has sent a change of clothes for the Knight-Captain,” Nolani said simply, placing them on the chair by the door before giving a polite nod.
“Thank you, Nolani,” Ariana replied, her tone light and unconcerned.
“Isabel would also like to know if you would like breakfast in the courtyard or the kitchen?” Nolani added.
She looked at Cullen as if asking him the question, but it was obvious that he was still processing the moment. “Kitchen is fine, thank you,” Ariana said, chuckling slightly at Cullen’s visible discomfort.
The elven woman left as quickly as she’d come, leaving Cullen sitting there, his mouth slightly open as if to speak but no words coming out. His brow furrowed, and his gaze darted between Ariana and the chair where the clothes now sat.
“She knows I’m here?” he finally asked, his voice tinged with disbelief. “How… how did she even get my clothes?”
Ariana burst into laughter, the sound warm and unrestrained. “If you’re worried she sent someone to the Gallows to collect them, do not be,” she said, her grin widening. “She likely just bought something and had it delivered. Welcome to the life of a noble.”
Cullen opened his mouth to protest, to say something—anything—but found himself completely at a loss. Instead, his gaze dropped to the neatly folded garments, as though they held answers he couldn’t articulate.
Ariana tilted her head, clearly enjoying his discomfort. “Speechless, Knight-Captain? That is a rare sight,” she teased, her voice laced with affection.
He finally managed a faint, dry chuckle, shaking his head. “This… is going to take some getting used to.”
She leaned in closer, her tone reassuring. “Do not worry,” she said softly, brushing her lips against his forehead, her tone playful. “You will manage.”
As Cullen reached for his coffee, a small smile played on his lips. “Maker help me,” he muttered under his breath, earning another laugh from Ariana, who had clearly won the morning.