14 Bloomingtide – 3 Justinian 9:34
Ariana was up before dawn most mornings now. It wasn’t just about training—it was about reclaiming the parts of herself she’d felt slipping away. The White Wolf couldn’t afford to fade, not when the world around her continued to grow more uncertain. The Silver Rangers needed their leader present, not tucked away in an estate pretending to be someone she wasn’t. And truthfully, she needed them too.
Then, there were mornings like this one. Whenever Cullen stayed over, she never knew what the morning would look like. She certainly wouldn’t make it to the warehouse before dawn. Sometimes, they would still train together in the courtyard. She enjoyed training with him. It was different than with the Rangers. Certainly not as grueling, but aside from just getting to spend time with him, his skills were completely different and it pushed her in different ways. Even if she never let Cullen fully see the extent of her abilities.
Then there were morning like today. The kind where he refused to let her leave the bed, not ready to let her go. They allowed themselves to get lost in each other’s embrace, sipping their coffee, just being who they were. Talking and teasing each other. Briefly allowing themselves to forget the world outside her window.
Still, for the most part, she made a point to try never be too late to the warehouse. She wouldn’t give Valentina, Linnea, or Lamberto the satisfaction of teasing her—well, not more than they already did.
When she finally made it to the warehouse, she found Valentina and Linnea sparring, the sharp sound of strikes echoing through the room. Lamberto was organizing equipment, though he gave her a brief nod when she walked in. It felt like stepping back into her old life, the one she missed more than she cared to admit.
After a round of sparring with all three of them—a grueling session that left her ribs aching—Ariana found herself perched on a stack of crates, catching her breath. She wasn’t out of shape anymore, not like when she’d first started back up, but Maker, they were good.
“Wolf, you daydreaming again?” Linnea’s voice cut through her thoughts, teasing but lighthearted.
Ariana blinked, snapping out of her reverie. She leaned back against the crate, smirking. “Yes, well, after taking on all three of you today, I think I’ve earned a little daydreaming. Besides, I’m sitting right here. It’s not like anyone’s needed me for anything.”
Linnea walked over, crossing her arms. “How’re the ribs feeling?”
Ariana waved a dismissive hand. “Fine now.” She glanced around, her expression shifting to something more mischievous. “Are we going to eat soon? I’m starving.”
“Are you ever not hungry, Wolf?” Linnea quipped, leaning against the crate beside her.
“Sure,” Ariana replied without missing a beat. “Whenever I haven’t done anything all day, which hasn’t been the case for weeks.”
“You getting tired yet?” Valentina chimed in from across the room, her tone smug. “Thinking about going back to the easy life of a noble?”
Ariana shot her a mock glare, her lips twitching into a grin. “No. I am thinking we need to keep more food here. When did you all become so insubordinate?”
“We’ve always been insubordinate,” Valentina said with a smirk. “You just got soft.”
Ariana shrugged, unable to argue the point. She stretched her arms above her head, wincing slightly at the pull in her ribs. “But really, I’m starving. Can someone find some food anywhere in Lowtown?”
Linnea raised an eyebrow, her tone laced with amusement. “You could just walk to the Hanged Man, you know. Varric’s probably there, and I’m sure Corff would be happy to feed you.”
Ariana sighed dramatically, hopping down from the crates. “I miss Riley. You’re all terrible. Riley fed me without complaints.”
Valentina and Linnea burst into laughter as Ariana grabbed her satchel and threw it over her shoulder.
“Where are you going now?” Valentina called after her.
“To find food and people who appreciate me,” Ariana called back over her shoulder, her tone teasing.
“I’ll come with you,” Valentina said rushing after here
As the door swung shut behind them, Lamberto and Linnea exchanged grins. It was good to have their commander back on a more regular basis. Ariana wasn’t just their leader—she was family. And for the first time in a long while, it felt like they were getting that family back.
Ariana chuckled “So now that I’m leaving you want to come with me”
“What can I say… I was hungry too.” Valentina quipped
“And you couldn’t just get me the food and get yourself food?” Ariana chastised, though she didn’t truly mean it
“You’ve gone soft, Wolf. Someone has to remind you what life is like” Valentina shot back
The morning’s sparring session had been grueling but satisfying. Ariana exited the warehouse, rolling her shoulders to ease the tension in her muscles. Valentina walked beside her, her usual smirk in place as they made their way through Lowtown. The sun was climbing steadily, its golden light casting long shadows against the stone walls.
“Maker, I’m starving,” Ariana muttered, adjusting her satchel. “I need food before I collapse.”
“See? You’re soft,” Valentina teased, nudging her lightly. “A few rounds, and you’re already whining.”
“Whining?” Ariana shot her a mock glare. “I could take you again right now, but I’m choosing not to because I’m gracious. Also, because I’m hungry.”
Valentina laughed. “Sure, Wolf. Keep telling yourself that.”
The banter eased Ariana’s mood, though she remained alert as they navigated the winding streets of Lowtown. She knew the routes well enough to avoid most trouble, but there was always the chance of crossing paths with someone she didn’t want to see at the wrong time—like Cullen.
Her thoughts turned sharply to reality when they rounded a corner and nearly collided with him.
“Cullen,” Ariana said, her surprise barely masked. His sharp hazel eyes swept over her, then to Valentina, lingering with a flicker of recognition. His posture stiffened, and Ariana knew immediately this wasn’t going to be a pleasant encounter.
“I thought you were at the Gallows all day, I hadn’t expected to see you,” she said with a warm smile. Then, with a teasing edge, she added, “Unless you were thinking about coming by earlier today.”
As soon as the Templars that had been with him left, Cullen’s demeanor shifted. He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to grab her arm gently but firmly, guiding her into a nearby alley. His voice, low but edged with tension, cut through the air. “What are you doing here, Ari?”
“It’s not strange for me to be in Lowtown, is it? I was heading to the Hanged Man” she said quickly, her tone light as she attempted to diffuse the tension.
“It’s not where you are,” Cullen replied, his voice clipped. “It’s where you’re coming from.”
Ariana tilted her head, her lips curving into a faint smile. “The warehouse district? You’ve seen me down here before. I’ve told you I check on shipments now and then.”
“And her?” Cullen asked sharply, his gaze shifting to Valentina. “Why is she with you?”
Valentina’s hand drifted toward her daggers, but Ariana motioned subtly, silently urging her to stand down. “She’s a friend,” Ariana said evenly. “One of the people who saved me during the Blight, actually.”
Cullen’s jaw tightened, his sharp gaze cutting back to Ariana. “I’ve seen her before,” he said, his tone laced with suspicion. “At the docks a few months ago and again during the Qunari uprising. Always standing between me and the White Wolf. Now, she’s here with you.”
Ariana’s heart sank, but she kept her expression neutral. “She’s passing through Kirkwall,” she replied, her tone calm. “We’ve kept in touch since the Blight. Is that really so strange?”
Cullen’s eyes narrowed. “So the Rangers have been here in Kirkwall, and you knew?” His voice was low, but the accusation was clear.
Ariana opened her mouth to respond, but Cullen shook his head sharply, cutting her off. “You knew,” he said again, his tone growing heavier with disappointment. “And you didn’t tell me.”
“Cullen,” she said softly, taking a step closer. “It’s not like that. I—”
“Enough.” His voice was quiet but firm, carrying a weight that stopped her mid-sentence. He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. When he spoke again, his voice was softer, but the hurt in it was unmistakable. “Is this what it will always be? Another secret? Something you’re orchestrating, trouble you’re getting into that you won’t tell me?”
Ariana opened her mouth to retort, but he pressed on, his gaze flicking back toward the docks. “I know… I can’t imagine what you did to survive. What it must have taken to make it through a Blight, alone.” His voice cracked slightly, but he steadied himself, meeting her gaze. “I just wish that whatever it was didn’t have to live in the space between us now. Whatever it is, please… just be careful.”
Ariana’s chest tightened. She could see the pain in his eyes, the strain of her lies and half-truths weighing on him. For a moment, she wanted to tell him everything—to explain who she was, what she was doing, and why she had to keep it from him. But the words wouldn’t come.
Cullen studied her in silence, then finally shook his head. “Be careful, Ari,” he said, his tone weary but resolute. Without waiting for her response, he turned and walked away, his cloak sweeping behind him as he disappeared around the corner.
Ariana stood rooted in place, watching Cullen’s retreating figure as his words carved into her like blades. Be careful. He might as well have said goodbye.
Her chest tightened as frustration bubbled up, threatening to spill over. She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms as she fought to keep her composure. “Wolf?” Valentina’s voice cut through her spiraling thoughts, sharp but concerned.
“I’m fine,” Ariana replied, her voice taut. “Let’s just go.”
Valentina fell into step beside her, quiet but watchful. As they wove through the winding streets of Lowtown, the city’s usual hum of life felt distant, muted. The weight of Cullen’s disappointment clung to her, each step heavier than the last.
She hadn’t meant for this to happen. Maker, she hadn’t wanted this—this growing chasm between them, built on half-truths and omissions. Yet every time she tried to protect him, she seemed to push him further away.
As they neared the warehouse, Valentina broke the silence, her voice low but firm. “You know this can’t last, right?”
Ariana glanced at her, her brow furrowing slightly. “What can’t last?”
Valentina shrugged, her smirk softened by a rare note of seriousness. “Playing both sides. Hightown noble one day, White Wolf the next. Sooner or later, the walls between those lives are going to come crashing down.”
Ariana’s steps faltered for a fraction of a second, her jaw tightening. “I’ve managed so far,” she said evenly, her tone guarded.
“For how much longer?” Valentina countered, her gaze sharp but not unkind. “You’re good, Wolf, but even you can’t keep this up forever. You knew that when you started.”
Ariana didn’t answer, her lips pressing into a thin line as they reached the warehouse door. She hesitated for a moment, Valentina’s words cutting deeper than she wanted to admit.
“I’ll deal with it,” she said finally, her voice quieter now, but resolute.
Valentina sighed softly, stepping past her and pushing the door open. “You’d better,” she said over her shoulder. “Because the longer you wait, the harder it’s going to hit when it all comes crashing down.”
Ariana followed her inside, the familiar scent of wood and steel offering a fleeting sense of comfort. But as the door shut behind them, Valentina’s words lingered, heavy in the air.
She had always known the truth of it, even if she hadn’t wanted to face it. The life she was leading wasn’t sustainable. And the cracks in the facade were already beginning to show.
~~~
Cullen’s boots echoed against the cobblestones as he made his way back to the Gallows, his thoughts heavy and tumultuous. The usual bustling noise of Kirkwall seemed distant, muffled by the weight of the conversation he’d just had with Ariana. The cool morning air did little to clear his mind, his focus consumed by the unsettling questions she had left behind.
It wasn’t just Ariana’s evasiveness—it was the stark realization of how much he didn’t know. He’d long suspected she kept secrets, but now the depth of them loomed before him like a shadow he couldn’t outrun.
She rarely spoke of her time in Ferelden, and when she did, her stories were little more than fragments—a vivid inn she had stayed at, a chance meeting with a wandering merchant. They were safe, fleeting glimpses that skirted the edges of what he truly wanted to know: how she had survived the Blight, and who she had become in its shadow.
She had been just a girl when he last saw her at Lake Calenhad. Scared, defiant, and determined not to let her life be dictated by anyone. And yet, when she arrived in Kirkwall years later, she was so different. That determination was still there, but it had sharpened into something more focused, more relentless. Reckless, he might have said before—except recklessness didn’t quite fit.
Recklessness implied a lack of thought, a disregard for consequences. But Ariana wasn’t reckless. She was deliberate, calculating even, and Cullen couldn’t decide if that made her actions more or less dangerous.
And today, with that woman at her side…
Cullen’s jaw tightened. He had seen her before, during the Qunari uprising, standing between him and the White Wolf. And again at the docks, her sharp eyes tracking him like a hawk. The way she moved today, walking beside Ariana with the ease of a trusted companion, spoke volumes. This wasn’t just someone passing through Kirkwall.
He clenched his fists, the memory of their last encounter flashing through his mind. The slavers on the Wounded Coast. Ariana had been unarmed, yet she moved like a predator, her strikes efficient and lethal. She hadn’t hesitated. There had been no doubt in her movements, no fear. Just precision.
That wasn’t something one learned from mere survival.
Those moments had shown him how capable she was—but they had also left him wondering. Who had taught her to fight like that? Who had turned a frightened, defiant girl at Lake Calenhad into someone who could stand shoulder to shoulder with the likes of Hawke and Varric?
And then there was the Qunari uprising. Cullen’s chest tightened as he thought of that night. Ariana had nearly died during that chaos. She had thrown herself into the fight without hesitation, as if she didn’t know how to do anything else. One thing he realized now was that he didn’t know just how many Qunari Ariana had cut through. He hadn’t thought about it because of her injuries, but if she fought through Kirkwall alone that night and survived… that was more than most Templars and City Guard had been able to do.
Unless she didn’t face them alone. The White Wolf.
The name echoed in his mind, heavy with suspicion and a growing unease. He remembered the fight at the docks—how the White Wolf moved with precision, their strikes calculated and deliberate. At the time, he had been in awe of their skill, the way they commanded the battlefield without hesitation. But now, those memories intertwined with images of Ariana—her stance during sparring sessions, the way she shifted her weight before striking. Cullen could see it clearly: the echoes of the White Wolf in her stance, her strategy, her calculated adaptability.
It wasn’t just a coincidence.
The movements were too similar, the foundation unmistakable. The White Wolf’s technique was more refined, but he could see the echoes of it in Ariana’s form. If the White Wolf wasn’t a distant figure she admired, then who were they to her? A mentor? A savior?
He stopped in his tracks, his breath catching as the pieces began to fall into place. If Ariana had trained under the White Wolf, then she wasn’t just connected to the Rangers—she was deeply entwined with them. The woman he loved, the one who had fought beside him and shared his bed, had a life he could barely comprehend. And yet, she had kept it from him.
Why?
Mercenaries can’t be trusted.
His own words echoed in his mind, sharp and unforgiving. He had dismissed her, challenged her convictions, and unknowingly reinforced the wall she had built between them. She had tried to tell him, to bridge the gap, but his reaction had likely driven her further into secrecy.
His chest tightened as guilt seeped in. He had wanted to protect her, to keep her from danger, but in doing so, had he only pushed her away? Had he made it impossible for her to trust him with the truth?
If Ariana had trained under the White Wolf, then her connection to the Rangers ran far deeper than he had realized. And if she truly was a part of that world, he didn’t know how to reconcile it with the woman he loved.
But one thing was clear: she wasn’t just the defiant girl he had saved all those years ago, nor was she simply the woman who had stolen his heart. She was something more—someone shaped by battles and shadows, by alliances he could barely comprehend.
And as much as it scared him, Cullen knew one thing with certainty: he couldn’t lose her again. But to protect her, he needed to understand her.
Even if the truth unraveled everything he thought he knew about her—and himself.
~~~
The warehouse was quieter than usual when Ariana stepped inside, her footsteps echoing faintly in the cavernous space. She didn’t stop to greet anyone, her gaze locked ahead. Her heart felt like a lead weight, her mind a whirlwind of anger, frustration, and pain. The memory of Cullen’s disappointment was fresh, and it stung sharper than any blade. But it wasn’t just him—she was furious with herself. For the lies, for the carelessness, for the pain she had caused.
Without a word, she crossed the room to the training area, her hands moving with mechanical precision as she grabbed three wooden swords from the rack. Linnea and Lamberto, standing nearby, fell silent as they noticed her storm past, their conversations forgotten. Valentina, trailing behind Ariana, shot them a knowing glance. Something had gone wrong.
Ariana turned sharply, throwing a sword to each of them before tossing one to Valentina. They caught the weapons on instinct, their expressions shifting from confusion to wary understanding as they registered the fire in her eyes.
“Let’s go,” Ariana said curtly, her voice brooking no argument.
Lamberto raised an eyebrow, exchanging a glance with Linnea. “You’re serious?” he asked, though he already knew the answer.
“Does it look like I’m joking?” Ariana snapped, her tone sharp enough to cut.
Linnea arched an eyebrow, her smirk subdued but present. “You’re angry,” she observed, her voice calm but not without a hint of curiosity. “What’s this about, Wolf?”
Ariana’s hands tightened on the wooden sword, her knuckles white. “Are we doing this, or are you going to stand there all day?” she growled.
Linnea sighed, stepping forward and adjusting her grip on the sword. “Alright, Wolf. But don’t cry when we break you.”
“Try it,” Ariana shot back, stepping into the center of the training area, her stance already shifting into readiness.
The three circled her, each taking measured steps. Lamberto moved first, feinting high before aiming a sharp strike at her side. Ariana didn’t flinch.
Don’t think, Ariana. Act.
The words echoed in her mind, the voice as sharp as ever. Her body moved before her thoughts could catch up, sidestepping the strike and bringing her own sword down to tap Lamberto’s wrist, forcing him to retreat. Valentina lunged in next, her strike more aggressive, but Ariana spun past her with fluid precision, her blade sweeping toward Valentina’s side.
Focus, Ariana. You’ve got the instincts.
The sparring intensified. Linnea joined the fray, her movements sharp and probing, testing Ariana’s defenses. But Ariana wasn’t just defending—she was hunting. Every step, every strike was calculated, her focus honed to a razor’s edge. She blocked Linnea’s strike with a harsh parry, forcing her opponent to stumble back.
You don’t fight to survive, Ariana. You fight to win.
Her breath came in sharp bursts, but she didn’t falter. When Valentina tried to flank her, Ariana pivoted and caught her blade mid-swing, twisting it free and disarming her with a fluid motion that left Valentina scowling. Lamberto came at her again, his movements heavier but powerful. Ariana ducked beneath his swing and swept her leg out, knocking him off balance. He landed with a thud, muttering a curse under his breath.
“Too slow,” Ariana hissed, her voice cold and clipped. Her ribs ached, her muscles burned, but she pushed through it. She needed this. She needed to feel alive again.
Linnea and Valentina exchanged a quick glance, their expressions hardening. They moved in unison, Valentina striking high while Linnea swept low. Ariana’s body twisted, narrowly avoiding the coordinated attack.
What’s the point of speed if you can’t predict your enemy’s next move?
The words drove her forward. She caught Linnea’s low strike with her blade, deflecting it, while stepping into Valentina’s guard and shoving her back with her shoulder. Valentina stumbled, just long enough for Ariana to press her advantage.
“She’s fast today,” Linnea muttered under her breath, her tone laced with a hint of disbelief.
“Fast?” Valentina shot back, picking up her sword. “She’s alive again.”
The heat of exertion blurred the edges of her thoughts, but it wasn’t enough to drown the nagging doubts that clung to her. Cullen’s voice echoed in her mind, the weight of his hurt and confusion pressing against her resolve.
The sparring intensified. Ariana moved with a ferocity and grace that seemed almost otherworldly, her movements a seamless blend of instinct and precision. Every strike she made was calculated, every dodge perfectly timed. Her opponents were holding back initially, worried about pushing her too hard after the past few months.
But it became clear almost immediately that they didn’t need to hold back.
The woman in front of them wasn’t the Ariana Trevelyan who had been growing comfortable in Hightown, grappling with courtly politics and the trappings of nobility. This was the White Wolf, the leader who had carved out a name for herself in blood and fire, the one who had once stood on the edge of death and refused to fall.
Valentina adjusted her stance, lunging forward with a more aggressive strike. Ariana dodged smoothly, slipping past the attack and tapping Valentina’s shoulder with the flat of her hand.
“Try again,” Ariana said, her voice cold and clipped.
Linnea swung in next, testing Ariana’s reactions with a feint followed by a low sweep. But Ariana wasn’t fooled. She leapt over the sweep and retaliated with a sharp jab that forced Linnea to stumble back.
The clash of wood on wood filled the warehouse, each sound a testament to Ariana’s relentless determination. By the end, sweat dripped from her brow, her breath coming in harsh gasps. But her eyes were sharp, burning with an intensity that left no room for doubt. She disarmed Valentina once more, forced Linnea into retreat, and ended with Lamberto on his knees, his weapon knocked to the floor.
Ariana countered everything they threw at her. The sparring match was fierce, but it was clear who was in control.
By the time they stopped, all four of them were breathing hard, sweat gleaming on their brows. Ariana lowered her hands, her chest heaving, but her eyes were sharp, burning with an intensity that made Valentina, Linnea, and Lamberto pause.
“Better?” Valentina asked, her tone cautious but not unkind.
Ariana nodded curtly, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Better,” she said, though her voice betrayed a lingering edge of frustration.
The Rangers said nothing more, their silence filled with understanding. They didn’t need to speak; they could see it. Ariana wasn’t the noblewoman of Hightown or the White Wolf of legend. She was both, and neither, and something in between. But above all, she was theirs—and that was enough.
As she wiped the sweat from her brow and leaned against the training rack, a flicker of clarity broke through the haze of her frustration. She wouldn’t let her doubts or mistakes define her. She had a responsibility—to herself, to the Rangers, and to those who relied on her.
Whatever storm lay ahead, she would face it head-on. The White Wolf wasn’t gone. She was still here. She always would be.
~~~
The warehouse was dimly lit, the faint glow of lanterns casting long shadows across the crates and training equipment. Ariana remained seated at the makeshift planning table, her fingers idly tracing the grain of the wood as she listened to Linnea’s report. She was tired, more mentally than physically, but the thought of returning home—of putting on the facade of Ariana Trevelyan, the noble—felt heavier than the weight of her exhaustion.
“They’re about three days out,” Linnea said, her voice steady but tinged with curiosity. “What do you want to do?”
Ariana leaned back in her chair, exhaling slowly. Her mind raced, calculating routes, estimating time, and considering contingencies. “We need to intercept them as far from Kirkwall as possible,” she replied. “If we leave at dawn, we should be able to reach them by the end of the day—still two days from Kirkwall and any potential Templar reinforcements.”
Linnea nodded, but before she could respond, Lamberto interjected, his arms crossed. “We? You’re not sending out a squad?”
Ariana’s sharp gaze flicked to him, a faint smile playing on her lips. “You said ‘a couple of transports.’ How many Templars are we looking at?”
“Scouts are reporting almost ten,” Linnea answered.
“Then, yes,” Ariana said firmly. “I’ll need a squad.”
Her words hung in the air, heavy with finality. The three exchanged glances, and then Valentina’s grin broke the silence. “So, the Wolf’s finally coming out of her den.”
Ariana chuckled softly, the sound dry but genuine. “Maybe more like peeking. But if you want to frame it that way…” She let the sentence hang, shrugging lightly. “I won’t stop you.”
Linnea tilted her head, her sharp eyes narrowing. “What’s really going on, Wolf? You don’t usually seem this… tense.”
Ariana sighed, leaning forward to rest her forearms on the table. “The shadows,” she said softly, her voice tinged with weariness. “I’m tired of them.”
The words hung in the still air, and no one asked her to elaborate. They didn’t need to. The shadows weren’t just the places they moved through to avoid detection—they were the weight of her secrets, the tightrope she walked between Hightown’s glittering pretense and the deadly reality of the Rangers’ work. They all felt it, but for Ariana, it had become a suffocating burden.
After a pause, she straightened, the faintest edge of determination returning to her expression. “Prep a squad,” she instructed, her tone leaving no room for argument. “Have them meet me outside the Hightown gates first thing.”
Valentina, Linnea, and Lamberto nodded in unison, already moving to gather what they needed. Ariana rose from her seat, grabbing her cloak and satchel in one fluid motion.
“Wolf,” Valentina called after her as she reached the door. Ariana paused, glancing back. “It’s good to have you back.”
Ariana smiled faintly, the expression not quite reaching her eyes. “We’ll see if I can keep up,” she replied, her tone laced with wry humor.
As she stepped into the cool night air, Ariana felt a flicker of relief. The plan gave her something tangible to focus on, a purpose beyond the turmoil in her heart. But as her boots echoed softly against the cobblestones of Lowtown, she knew the hardest part of the night still lay ahead. Isabel would likely be waiting for her, as she always did when Ariana returned late. And tonight, like so many others, Ariana wasn’t sure she could hide the weight of her burdens from the person who knew her best.
~~~
The late-night silence of the Trevelyan estate felt heavier than usual as Ariana rounded the corner into the kitchen, her words rushing ahead of her. “Sorry I’m late. Needed to handle something. Can you pack me a bag? I leave at dawn—”
She stopped abruptly. Isabel stood by the counter, her sharp green eyes fixed on Ariana with a mix of concern and irritation, but it wasn’t just Isabel who made her falter. Cullen sat at the table, his posture rigid, his hazel eyes dark with unreadable emotion. The tension between them was immediate, like a cord pulled too tight.
“Where have you been, child?” Isabel’s sharp tone cut through the tension like a blade.
Ariana hesitated, glancing between the two of them. “The Hanged Man,” she said quickly. “Catching up with Varric.”
“So you ate, then?” Isabel pressed, her brow furrowing as she studied Ariana more closely. It was clear that something wasn’t adding up, and Ariana knew it.
“Not really, no,” Ariana replied, her voice trying for lightness but faltering. “I could still use some dinner.”
Isabel gave her a hard look but finally nodded. “Very well. Sit down. I’ll get your food ready.” She busied herself in the kitchen, though her gaze flicked to Ariana now and then, still skeptical.
Ariana dropped into a chair across from Cullen, feeling his eyes on her. She tried not to let her unease show, but the way his gaze lingered told her he wasn’t buying her story.
“You’ve been there all day?” Cullen asked, his tone neutral, though there was a sharpness underneath. “Because you look like you’ve been in a fight.”
Ariana’s heart sank, but she forced herself to smile. “Around Lowtown mostly,” she said, her tone breezy. “Not a fight. A few sparring rounds with Isabela…we may have gotten carried away with it. She’s certainly not one to back down.”
The lie burned her more than she expected, and for a moment, she couldn’t meet his eyes. It was subtle, but she could feel the weight of his disappointment.
Cullen leaned forward slightly, his hands clasped on the table. “You’re leaving?” he asked, his voice quieter now, tinged with something she couldn’t quite place.
“Only for a few days,” Ariana said quickly, keeping her tone as soft and reassuring as she could manage. “Just going to Starkhaven.”
“What’s in Starkhaven?” Cullen pressed, though he immediately seemed to regret the question, as if expecting no real answer.
“A favor for Varric,” she lied smoothly. “He needs some support from nobility to close a business deal he’s been working on.”
Cullen’s expression hardened slightly, and before she could say more, he stood abruptly. “I should let you get some rest, then,” he said, his voice strained. “I suppose…I’ll see you when you get back.”
He turned toward the door, and Ariana felt the pain from this morning all over again like a knife her chest. The knot in her throat tightened as she watched him walk away, the man she loved slipping further from her with every step. Isabel turned, catching her eye with a knowing look that spoke volumes without a word.
Ariana bolted up from her seat. “Cullen, wait!” she called, her voice breaking slightly as she ran after him, catching him in the hallway. She grabbed his wrist, stopping him in his tracks.
“Talk to me. Don’t leave like this,” she pleaded, tears brimming in her eyes.
Cullen turned slowly, his expression pained as he met her gaze. “Ari…I…”
“Stay,” she said, her voice softer now, but no less insistent. It wasn’t a question—it was a plea. “It’s too late to go back to the Gallows.”
He hesitated, his eyes searching hers as if weighing his next words. Finally, he nodded, and his hand moved to her waist, pulling her close. Ariana wrapped her arms around his neck, and he rested his forehead against hers. For a moment, neither spoke, the silence between them heavy with unspoken emotions.
“I should have waited for you,” Cullen finally said, his voice barely a whisper. “I should have believed that you were alive.”
Ariana froze, his words catching her off guard. Was he talking about the Blight? Did he blame himself for her years in Ferelden?
“Cullen, you didn’t—” she began, but he cut her off.
“I promised you that we would face it together, and instead I left you to face that alone,” he continued, his voice breaking slightly. “I escaped to Kirkwall. I will never know what it took for you to survive because I wasn’t there. I have no right to demand of you now that you relive it just to tell me.”
Tears spilled over her cheeks, but she wouldn’t let him carry this guilt. She reached up, cupping his face as she kissed him, pouring every ounce of love and desperation she felt into it. At first, he hesitated, but then his arms tightened around her, as if anchoring himself to her.
When they finally pulled apart, she rested her hand against his cheek, her voice steady despite the tears. “And I asked you to survive. You did what you had to as well. If you had stayed behind, there’s no guarantee you would have survived. And I would rather live those years over a thousand times than risk losing you to the Blight.”
Cullen stared at her for a moment, his hazel eyes shining with emotion. Without another word, he kissed her again, this time slower, more deliberate, as if grounding himself in her. Then, without a word, he lifted her effortlessly and carried her toward her room. The door closed softly behind them, and for the rest of the night, they let the world fall away, holding onto the only certainty they had: each other.
~~~
The room was silent except for the sound of their steady breathing, but Ariana’s peace didn’t last long.
In her dreams, she was back there—tied to that post. The biting cold made her shiver, and every nerve screamed in pain. Krieger stood before her, his cruel laughter ringing in her ears as he delivered cut after cut. She tried to scream, to fight, but her voice wouldn’t come. It was unbearable.
Not again. Maker, please, not again.
Ariana startled awake, her body tense as though still bracing for the next strike. Her left arm throbbed, a phantom ache that lingered even as her eyes darted around the dimly lit room, trying to anchor herself to the present. She clutched her forearm, her breathing sharp and uneven, tears silently streaking her face.
“Ari, what’s wrong?” Cullen’s voice broke through the haze. He was already sitting up beside her, his hand reaching toward her but stopping short, unsure if touching her would help or startle her further.
For a moment, she couldn’t respond. The nightmare had a grip on her, and the line between dream and reality blurred. Her breaths came fast and shallow, and her eyes darted around the room as if searching for threats.
“Ari,” Cullen said again, his voice steadier now but still laced with concern.
Slowly, her eyes met his, and the shadow of panic began to fade, replaced by the warmth of his steady presence. “Cullen?” she managed, her voice trembling as she started to ground herself in the present.
“I’m here,” he assured her gently, his hazel eyes fixed on hers. “Are you alright?”
“I…” Ariana shook her head as if trying to physically dislodge the nightmare’s lingering hold. “It was…nothing. Just a nightmare.”
Her voice was unconvincing, and they both knew it, but Cullen didn’t press. Instead, he opened his arms, and Ariana leaned into him, letting his steady presence anchor her. His arms wrapped around her protectively, and his hand stroked her back in slow, soothing motions. Slowly, her breathing began to even out, and the phantom pain in her arm started to fade.
Cullen held her in silence for a while, allowing her to settle. He didn’t ask, but his mind raced with questions. He recognized the signs—the way her body trembled, the tears she tried to hide. He knew the torment of such nightmares too well. But what haunted her? What memory had surfaced to cause her such pain?
Cullen’s gaze flicked to her hand as it continued to press against her forearm. There was no visible scar, no mark of what had caused the pain. He wanted to ask, to understand, but he held back, afraid that pressing her now would only deepen her distress.
After a while, he spoke, his voice soft and hesitant. “Ari… I’m here if you ever want to tell me.”
Her response was distant, her tone almost detached. “I know.”
Ariana shifted slightly against him, her eyes fixed on the far wall. The nightmare had left her wide awake, and though her breathing had calmed, the weight of the memories lingered.
“The Blight was…difficult, yes, but it wasn’t just the darkspawn,” she began quietly, her voice trembling despite her best efforts.
“Ari,” Cullen interrupted gently, “you don’t have to—”
“I’m not sure I could ever tell you everything that happened,” she said, her voice firmer now. “The days blurred together. There were times I couldn’t tell where one ended, and the next began. I couldn’t always afford to sleep—it wasn’t safe. There was no one else to stand guard.”
Cullen’s arms tightened around her as if to remind her she wasn’t alone anymore. He rested his chin against her head, offering silent comfort as she continued.
“I made mistakes,” Ariana admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “Some of them almost got me killed. There are things I’ll never forget, no matter how much I want to. Memories have a way of stringing together, one pulling another along until they’re impossible to ignore. That’s why I don’t talk about it. If I bring one memory forward, the others follow.”
“I’m sorry,” Cullen said softly, kissing her temple. “I shouldn’t have pressed. I don’t want to hurt you. I just… I regret not being able to protect you from all of it.”
Ariana pulled back slightly, meeting his gaze. Her hazel-green eyes were warm despite the lingering sadness. “And so now you try to protect me from everything,” she said gently, her voice touched with both gratitude and sorrow. “You’re afraid that I’ll be left alone again.”
Cullen looked at her, his expression a mixture of guilt and affection. “No,” he said quietly. “I’m afraid that I won’t be able to protect you, even if I’m here.”
Tears welled in her eyes again, but this time, they weren’t just from the pain. Without a word, she kissed him, pouring every ounce of love and reassurance she could into it. Cullen responded instantly, his arms pulling her closer, as though he could shield her from every ghost of her past.
When they finally pulled apart, Ariana rested her forehead against his. “Cullen,” she whispered, her voice steady now, “we can’t protect each other from everything. But we can try. And we can be here for each other when the ghosts come.”
A faint smile touched his lips, and he kissed her again, softer this time. Neither of them slept for the rest of the night, but instead, they stayed in each other’s arms, talking in hushed voices about fears, regrets, and the hopes they rarely voiced aloud.
By morning, the tension that had hung between them felt lighter, replaced by something deeper—an unspoken understanding that, no matter what came next, they would face it together.