3 – 7 Justinian 9:34
The soft light of dawn crept into the room, spilling over the tangled sheets and casting a golden glow across the walls. Ariana sat up slowly, the heaviness of the night still lingering in her chest. She glanced toward Cullen, who was already awake, propped on one elbow, watching her with a mix of tenderness and reluctance. His hair was tousled, his face softened by the faint traces of exhaustion from a night spent talking about everything they rarely dared to speak aloud.
“You don’t have to go yet,” he murmured, his voice rough with the weight of the morning. He reached for her, his fingers brushing lightly against her arm. “Stay a little longer.”
Ariana smiled faintly, the corner of her mouth quirking upward. “If I stay, I’ll never leave,” she said, her tone warm but laced with an undercurrent of truth.
“I wouldn’t mind that, we still have plenty of time,” Cullen replied, the teasing edge in his voice unable to mask the deeper emotion behind it.
She laughed softly, the sound breaking through the heaviness like sunlight piercing a cloud. “You’re impossible,” she said, leaning down to kiss him. It was slow and deliberate, a moment she wanted to stretch forever.
When she pulled away, his hand lingered on her wrist, his grip gentle but firm. “Be careful,” he said, his hazel eyes locking onto hers. The words were simple, but the weight behind them was anything but.
Ariana nodded, pulling herself out of bed and crossing the room to gather her travel clothes. She donned the modest tunic and pants laid out from the previous evening, securing her boots with deft fingers. Finally, she threw on a dark blue cloak, its hood resting against her shoulders.
As Ariana pulled her cloak around her shoulders, she glanced back at Cullen, his hair tousled, his expression soft in the morning light. A part of her yearned to stay, to let herself slip fully into the life they’d begun to build together. But another part, the part that burned fiercely beneath her calm exterior, couldn’t let go of the White Wolf. She didn’t want to. That part of her wasn’t just a duty—it was her freedom, her power, her purpose.
The thought tugged at her like a half-forgotten melody, familiar and insistent. She loved Cullen deeply, but the quiet life he offered was only half of who she was. The other half lived in the shadows, where the White Wolf’s name still carried weight. She couldn’t give that up—not yet.
Her smile wavered as she met his eyes, but she quickly steadied herself. This is who I am, she reminded herself. Both halves. He just doesn’t see all of me yet.
She turned to face him, her smile soft but resolute. “I’ll be back in a few days,” she said lightly, though the ease in her tone felt like a lie even to her own ears.
Cullen sat up fully, leaning against the headboard, his gaze following her every movement. “Promise me,” he said, his voice quieter now, “that you’ll take care of yourself. I need you to come back in one piece, Ari.”
Her heart twisted at the way he said her name, at the vulnerability in his tone that he so rarely showed. She crossed the room in two steps, pressing a hand to his cheek and brushing a kiss against his temple. “I promise,” she whispered.
When Ariana stepped closer to kiss his temple, Cullen caught her wrist before she could pull away, his grip gentle but firm. His thumb brushed over her pulse, lingering as though memorizing the beat. “I mean it, Ari,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Take care of yourself.”
She felt the slight tremor in his hand and met his gaze, her heart clenching at the unspoken fears reflected there. He didn’t ask where she was going or what dangers lay ahead; he never did. But the questions were in his eyes, the ones he didn’t want to voice because he feared the answers.
“I will,” she whispered, covering his hand with hers. For a moment, they stayed like that, suspended in the quiet. Then, as if reminding himself, Cullen let her go, his hand falling back to his side reluctantly.
She turned and stepped out the door, the weight of the moment pressing against her chest. By the time she reached the stairwell, her mask was firmly in place, but her heart still ached with the truth she couldn’t bring herself to tell him.
The White Wolf had a mission, and the world outside demanded her focus, no matter what she left behind.
~~~
They reached the mage transport by nightfall, the darkened sky shrouding their approach. Ariana crouched low among the trees, her dark blue cloak blending with the shadows as she surveyed the camp. A small fire crackled in the center, its light casting flickering silhouettes of armored figures. Ten Templars. Two chained mages. It was all as expected.
Ariana’s breath caught as her gaze fell on the mages. They sat huddled together, their chains glinting in the firelight, their youth unmistakable. It wasn’t the Circle she resented—not entirely—but the inevitability of what awaited them in Kirkwall. Meredith’s shadow loomed too large, her paranoia suffocating. These mages wouldn’t find guidance or stability there; they’d find fear, and fear bred desperation.
She adjusted her gloves, the leather creaking softly as she pulled them tighter. Her gaze swept the camp again, noting the positions of the guards, the patterns of their movements. Years of training had taught her to notice the smallest details—the way one Templar seemed to linger too long near the fire, the slight hesitation in another’s stride. These were not hardened warriors; they were soldiers following orders.
Krieger’s voice echoed in her mind, sharp and commanding: “I can count on one hand the number who see the field the way you do”
Valentina crouched beside her, whispering the latest report. “Keys are with the Knight-Lieutenant. The usual setup—two on patrol, the rest rotating in shifts. Mages are chained but calm. No sign of resistance.”
Ariana nodded, her eyes never leaving the camp. “We wait until they’re asleep,” she said quietly. “We take the mages first. Disable the Templars—no killing.” Her voice was firm, leaving no room for argument.
Valentina raised an eyebrow. “And if they fight back, Wolf?”
“Disarm them, you’re good at that.” Ariana replied, her tone clipped. “Most are just doing their jobs. They’re not bandits or slavers. They don’t deserve to die for this.”
The plan unfolded smoothly. By the time the first Templar stirred, the mages were already being escorted to safety, their chains unlocked with barely a whisper of sound. The Rangers moved like shadows, disabling their opponents with practiced precision. A quick strike to the back of the knee, a twist of an arm, and the Templars fell one by one without drawing their weapons.
The Knight-Lieutenant’s eyes locked onto her, his sword half-raised. “The White Wolf,” he murmured, the disbelief in his voice giving way to guarded curiosity. Ariana tensed, her hand hovering near her dagger. Her heart pounded, her mind racing through contingencies. But then he lowered his weapon, the weight of his choice evident. “I’ve heard of you,” he said, his voice softer now. “You protect them.”
Ariana’s daggers gleamed in the firelight as she stepped forward, her posture calm but commanding. “Who’s asking?,” she questioned, her tone even.
For a moment, he hesitated, his grip on his sword faltering. Then, slowly, he lowered his weapon.
“I’ve heard about you,” he said quietly. “They say you protect mages. That you’re… different.”
Ariana’s expression didn’t change, but his words struck a chord. “If you know who I am, then you know this doesn’t have to end in bloodshed,” she said. “Help me get them to safety.”
The Knight-Lieutenant’s shoulders sagged, and he nodded reluctantly. “Very well,” he said. “Meredith’s orders… they don’t sit right with me anymore.”
Once the mages were safely escorted to the tree line, the Knight-Lieutenant and a younger Templar approached Ariana cautiously. Their weapons were sheathed, their hands raised in a gesture of peace, but their faces bore the weight of something much heavier: shame.
“We want to help,” one of them said, his voice steady but quiet, as though he wasn’t quite sure the words were his to say.
Ariana turned to face them fully, her cloak shifted lightly with the breeze, and the firelight from the camp cast long shadows across her face. Her gaze flicked between them, warm but piercing. “What?” she asked, her tone even but laced with suspicion. “Why now?”
The Knight-Lieutenant stepped forward, his jaw set but his eyes conflicted. “Because we can’t keep pretending this is right,” he said, his voice hoarse. “We joined to protect people, not to shackle them, not to drag them to their deaths because of some Knight-Commander’s paranoia.” He gestured toward the camp, and his voice grew quieter. “This isn’t what the Order was meant to be.”
Ariana studied him, her expression unreadable, before her gaze shifted to the younger Templar. He couldn’t have been much older than her. His hands trembled faintly at his sides, though he tried to hide it.
“And you?” Ariana asked sharply. “Do you believe this, or are you just following him?” Her eyes darted toward the older Templar, and there was no warmth in her tone. “Because if you hesitate for even a second, you’ll be putting my people at risk.”
The younger man’s throat worked as he swallowed, his voice soft but resolute when he spoke. “I believed in the Order,” he said, his words tumbling out. “I still want to. I thought we were doing good. I thought we were protecting people, keeping them safe. But… it’s not true anymore. Not here. Not under Meredith.” He shook his head, his voice cracking. “It’s not right. And I can’t be part of it.”
Ariana observed them both for a moment. It was evident that this was a decision they had just made. Not a plan. “And what will you do after this?” she asked, her tone still sharp. “Desert the Order? Become fugitives? A Templar once told me it’s not that easy to leave the Order.”
The Knight-Lieutenant’s shoulders sagged slightly, the weight of her words pressing down on him. “We don’t know,” he admitted. “But we can’t go back. Not after this. We’ll be hanged, we know that.”
Ariana felt a wave of something she couldn’t quite name—empathy, perhaps, though it was intertwined with bitterness. She understood what it was to walk away from something that had once defined you. To abandon everything you’d been taught to believe in and carve out a new path, not because it was easy but because it was the only thing you could live with.
For a long moment, she said nothing, her eyes scanning their faces. There was fear there, yes, but also something stronger. Resolve. She exhaled slowly, the tension in her chest easing just slightly.
“You’re right about one thing,” she said at last. “You can’t go back. And if you stay here, if you stay in Kirkwall, Meredith will destroy you. But if you’re serious—if you’re ready to fight for something better—you have a place among the Silver Rangers.”
The younger Templar’s eyes widened slightly, and he exchanged a quick glance with the older man. “The Rangers?” he asked hesitantly. “You mean… you’d take us?”
“We protect people,” Ariana said simply. “Mages, innocents, anyone who needs it. If you’re willing to put your past behind you and fight for something better, we’ll take you.” She folded her arms, her eyes narrowing slightly. “But don’t mistake this for a reprieve. If you betray us, if you endanger the people we protect, there will be no second chances.”
The older Templar nodded slowly, his expression grim but resolute. “We won’t betray you,” he said. “We wouldn’t be here if we weren’t ready to stand against her.”
The younger Templar hesitated for a moment, then spoke, his voice quieter. “And… the lyrium?” he asked, the question clearly weighing on him. “If we can’t go back, we… we can’t function without it. Not for long.”
Ariana nodded, her voice firm. “We’ll provide it. But know this: we don’t fight for coin or power. If you join the Rangers, you fight for the people who can’t fight for themselves. You fight to make things right.” She met their gazes steadily. “If that’s not something you can believe in, then walk away now.”
The younger Templar’s shoulders straightened, and for the first time, there was a glimmer of hope in his eyes. “We’ll fight,” he said, his voice steady. “We’ll fight for something better.”
The older man nodded in agreement, his voice low but sincere. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “For giving us a chance.”
Ariana’s lips curved into a faint smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Don’t thank me yet,” she said. “You’re in for a long road. When this is done, head to Redcliffe. I’ll send word ahead. There’s a place for you there.”
The Templars exchanged a glance, then nodded in unison. As they turned to join the others, the older man hesitated. His hand lingered on the hilt of his sword, not in hostility but in thought. Finally, he turned back to Ariana, his expression shadowed with something deeper than regret.
“There’s something you need to know,” he said, his voice low but steady. The other Templar paused mid-step, glancing between him and Ariana with wide eyes. “Consider it proof of our intentions… and a warning.”
Ariana tilted her head, studying him with narrowed eyes. “Go on,” she said, her tone cautious.
The Knight-Lieutenant’s shoulders straightened, the remnants of his former discipline still evident in his stance. “There’s a group,” he began, choosing his words carefully. “Templars and mages, working together. In secret.”
Ariana’s heart skipped a beat, though she kept her expression neutral. “For what purpose?” she asked, her voice carefully measured.
“To overthrow Meredith,” he said simply. “They believe the Gallows needs to return to what it was meant to be—a place of protection, not oppression. The mages want to remain in a Circle, but one that isn’t ruled by fear. And the Templars… we’ve seen what she’s become. What she’s turned us into.”
“You’re telling me there’s a resistance within the Gallows?” Ariana’s voice was sharp, her mind already working through the implications. She crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing. “How do you know this isn’t a trap? How do you know Thrask can be trusted?”
The Knight-Lieutenant held her gaze, unflinching. “I can’t give you guarantees, Wolf. But I’ve seen the way he looks at the mages. He doesn’t see prisoners—he sees people. He’s not like the others.”
The Knight-Lieutenant nodded. “Yes. But it’s young, cautious. Everyone’s afraid—afraid of spies, of Meredith’s wrath, of what happens if they fail. They’ve been gathering information, slowly, but they haven’t taken action. Not yet.”
“And how do you know this?” Ariana pressed.
“I was approached,” he admitted. “Before this assignment. They wanted to know where I stood. I couldn’t commit—not then. But after tonight…” He glanced back at the other Templar, who nodded in quiet support. “I’ll vouch for them. They’re genuine. They want change, not chaos.”
Ariana’s mind raced, the implications of his words sinking in. A group like this—inside the Gallows itself—could change everything. If they truly existed, if they were truly committed, it meant that even within Meredith’s fortress, cracks were forming.
But cracks weren’t enough. Not yet.
“Does Meredith know?” she asked, her voice low and urgent.
“Not yet,” he replied. “But it’s only a matter of time. If you decide to get involved, be careful. They need help, but if Meredith finds out, it’s over—for them and for you.”
Ariana nodded slowly, her mind already spinning with possibilities and dangers. “Thank you,” she said at last. “For the warning—and for your help tonight. How do I find this resistance?”
The Knight-Lieutenant inclined his head, his expression solemn. “Find Ser Thrask, tell him I sent you.” he paused for a moment looking to towards the tree line “Thank you, White Wolf. For everything.”
Ariana smiled “Just call me , Wolf. Everyone else does.” bowing her head slightly before continuing “When you get to the manor, look for Malcolm. He’ll understand what you need.”
And with that, he turned and followed the other Templar toward the waiting Rangers. Ariana stood motionless for a moment, her thoughts a whirlwind of strategies and uncertainties. The Gallows, with all its darkness, might finally have a spark of hope within it.
But hope alone wasn’t enough to win this fight. She knew that better than anyone.
As the Rangers prepared to escort the mages and defecting Templars to safety, Ariana issued her final orders. “Take the mages to Markham. Speak to Frederick Decken, he’ll make sure they have a safe place at the Markham Circle—somewhere Meredith can’t reach them. After that, get the Templars to manor. They’ll be safe there.”
Valentina stepped forward, her brow furrowed. “And you?”
Ariana adjusted her cloak, the white fur catching the soft glow of dawn. “I need to get back to Kirkwall,” she said. “If Meredith or Cullen suspect anything, I need to be there to handle it.”
Valentina hesitated, then nodded. “Understood.”
As the group faded into the shadows, Ariana turned toward the forest, her mind heavy with the weight of what lay ahead. The Gallows were a fortress of oppression, but cracks had begun to form. She would find them, widen them, and let the light in. But the path forward was treacherous, and every step would demand precision, resolve, and sacrifice.
The White Wolf had returned—and she wasn’t done yet.
~~~
The familiar sights and sounds of Lowtown greeted Ariana as she walked through its winding streets. Despite the noise of merchants setting up their stalls and the chatter of early risers, an undercurrent of tension pulsed through the air. She felt it like a shadow trailing her—a reflection of the unrest simmering within Kirkwall’s walls. The Gallows loomed in the distance, its silhouette a constant reminder of the growing conflict.
Ariana adjusted the hood of her cloak as she approached the Hanged Man, her steps purposeful but heavy with exhaustion. The raid had been successful, but the events of the last few days weighed on her. Still, she couldn’t afford to pause—not when there was more to unravel. If there truly was a resistance within the Gallows, it could either be the key to unseating Meredith or a spark that set the entire city ablaze.
Inside Varric’s suite, the familiar warmth of the room greeted her. The dwarf sat at his desk, quill in hand, while Hawke lounged on the worn couch with her feet propped up on the table.
“Well, if it isn’t the prodigal pup,” Varric said, glancing up from his work. “What brings you by today? Don’t tell me you missed us.”
Ariana smiled faintly as she closed the door behind her. “Something like that,” she replied, shrugging off her cloak and hanging it by the door. “We need to talk.”
Hawke sat up, her expression shifting from amusement to curiosity. “That doesn’t sound ominous at all,” she said dryly. “What’s going on?”
Ariana moved to lean against the edge of the table, her hazel-green eyes flicking between them. “Have either of you heard about a resistance forming within the Gallows? A group of mages and Templars working together to… remove Meredith from power?”
The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of her words settling over them.
Hawke’s brow furrowed as she leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “A resistance? Within the Gallows?” she repeated, her voice low. “That’s… ambitious, to say the least. Dangerous, too.”
“Very dangerous,” Varric agreed, setting down his quill. “If it’s true, it could be the start of something big—or it could end in a bloodbath.”
Ariana nodded, her expression grim. “That’s what I’m worried about. If Meredith gets even a hint of this, she’ll come down on them hard. And if they fail…” She didn’t finish the thought, but the implication hung in the air.
Hawke’s gaze sharpened. “How much do you know about this group?” she asked. “Do they have numbers? Leadership? A plan?”
“Not much yet,” Ariana admitted. “Just whispers from the Templars we encountered on the road. But the fact that they exist at all is… significant.”
Varric leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. “Significant, sure. But also risky. If they pull it off, great—Meredith’s out, and maybe the Gallows can start to recover. But if they don’t? Meredith will use it as proof that both mages and Templars need even tighter control.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Ariana said quietly. “Which is why I need your help. I need to know more about this group—who’s involved, what they’re planning, if they’re even capable of succeeding.”
Hawke arched an eyebrow. “And how do you propose we do that? March into the Gallows and start asking questions?”
“Not exactly,” Ariana replied, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. “I did get a name—Ser Thrask. He was the one who approached the Knight-Lieutenant that told me about this. Start with him?”
Hawke’s brow furrowed, her expression shifting from curiosity to recognition. “Thrask?” she repeated, her surprise evident. “Of course, that makes sense.” Her tone carried an edge of resignation, as though the realization came with an unwelcome weight.
“It does?” Ariana asked, raising an eyebrow. “You know him?”
“It’s a long story,” Hawke said, exhaling sharply. “But yes. He’s helped us on a few occasions, and we’ve helped him. His daughter was a mage, and he hid her from the Circle. She…” Hawke paused, her voice faltering briefly, the memory clearly heavy. “I couldn’t save her.”
The regret in Hawke’s eyes was stark—an unspoken burden that lingered in the quiet that followed. It wasn’t a look Ariana often saw on her face, but it was one she recognized well. It mirrored the weight she carried herself, the regret of failures that never truly faded.
“If you couldn’t save her, no one could have,” Ariana said softly, her voice steady but gentle.
Hawke’s eyes flicked to her, and for a moment, their shared understanding passed unspoken between them. Varric, ever the observer, broke the silence with a quiet sigh.
“Thrask, huh?” he said, leaning back in his chair. “That complicates things, but it also makes them interesting. The man’s got convictions, I’ll give him that.”
Hawke nodded, her expression hardening. “I’ll see what I can find out,” she said firmly. “If he’s involved, he’ll know what’s happening inside the Gallows.”
“And if he’s not?” Varric asked, his tone light but his eyes sharp.
“Then we’ll know where we stand,” Hawke replied. “And we’ll find another way.”
Ariana pushed off the edge of the table, her posture straightening as she prepared to leave. “Good,” she said. “For now, I’ll leave this in your hands. But if you need me—or the Rangers—you know where to find us.”
“Always a pleasure, Pup,” Varric said with a faint smirk. “Try not to get into too much trouble before we call.”
Ariana’s lips quirked into a wry smile. “No promises,” she replied before turning to Hawke. “You’ll let me know what you find?”
“Of course,” Hawke said, her tone lighter now. “But don’t think this gets you off the hook. If we’re jumping into the fire, you’re coming with us.”
Ariana chuckled softly, the tension easing just slightly. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
As she pulled her cloak around her shoulders and stepped toward the door, she felt a flicker of something akin to hope. Whatever Thrask’s role in this resistance, Hawke and Varric would find the truth. And if the time came for the White Wolf to step out of the shadows again, she would be ready.
~~~
The early morning light spilled across Cullen’s desk, catching on the scattered reports and glinting off the edge of his helmet resting nearby. He rubbed his temples, the fatigue pressing heavy against him. He hadn’t slept well—not last night, not for the last few days. In truth, sleep rarely came easy when he was alone. The nightmares never really left him. They lay in wait, clawing their way back into his mind the moment Ariana wasn’t there.
With her, the nights were quieter. The haunting images of the demons and the screams that once felt inescapable seemed more distant when she was beside him. He could feel her warmth, hear her steady breathing, and know—without question—that she was safe, alive. That none of what the demons had shown him could touch her. But without her, the shadows closed in again.
He exhaled, leaning back in his chair. The tension he’d carried during her absence had lessened when he received word late last night that she had returned to Kirkwall. The knowledge brought relief, but not enough to banish the gnawing worry that had taken root since she’d left for Starkhaven.
He smiled faintly at the thought of seeing her tonight. He needed to hold her, to see for himself that she was unharmed. The mere thought of her was enough to ease the tightness in his chest—until the sharp knock at the door shattered his brief moment of peace.
“Enter,” he called, straightening in his chair.
A Templar stepped inside, saluting sharply before speaking. “Knight-Captain, there has been an incident with the mage transport from Starkhaven.”
The words cut through Cullen like a blade. His breath stilled for a moment, and his mind raced ahead to the worst possibilities. Starkhaven… “What incident?” he demanded, his voice sharper than he intended.
The Templar fumbled with a report in his hands, clearly uneasy. “They were intercepted… by a group of warriors. They freed the mages.”
Cullen rose to his feet, his expression hardening. “What?” he said, gesturing for the document.
As he read, the knot in his stomach tightened. The details were vague but damning. A well-armed group had executed the ambush with precision. The Templars guarding the transport were disarmed and restrained, though not so securely that they couldn’t free themselves after a short time. The mages had been freed without incident. Worse, two Templars had reportedly assisted the attackers and defected.
The report described they were led by a woman in a dark cloak. None of the Templars could provide a name or a clear description of her face. What stood out, however, was her skill. The leader had never drawn her weapons, disarming or incapacitating her opponents with pure speed and precision.
“Dismissed,” Cullen said, waving the nervous messenger away.
The Templar’s relief was evident as he exited swiftly, leaving Cullen alone with the weight of the report.
Cullen set the document down, his hand running through his hair as frustration bubbled to the surface. The defection of Templars was a direct attack on the Order’s morale, a wound that could fester if not addressed. If Templars lost faith in their mission, what hope did they have to hold their position in Kirkwall, let alone in the Gallows? It wasn’t just a logistical failure—it was a symbol of the Order’s fraying integrity.
But as troubling as the raid was, another thought gnawed at the edges of his mind: the timing. The transport had been coming from Starkhaven. Ariana had just returned from there, supposedly on business for Varric. It was too convenient.
Could she have been involved? Could the warriors have been Rangers?
Cullen clenched his fists, forcing himself to breathe. He hated that the thought had crossed his mind, hated the tiny part of him that couldn’t dismiss the possibility outright. He still didn’t know the extent of her involvment with the White Wolf or the Silver Rangers. She claimed to have friends among them but could it be more than that?
The thought twisted in his chest, sharp and unrelenting. He needed to see her, needed to ask her directly. Even as guilt clawed at him for suspecting her, he knew he couldn’t let this lie.
He despised himself for even considering the thought, but doubt crept in like a shadow he couldn’t shake. She had told him she wasn’t involved, but how much of her life had he truly seen? Was it his duty to ask, or was it betrayal to even wonder?
Cullen rose abruptly, grabbing his cloak. Whatever answers awaited him in Hightown, he had to have them. He needed to know. Not just for the Order, but for himself. And yet, the thought of what he might uncover left a cold knot in his stomach.
~~~
By the time he reached her estate, it was still early. Isabel hadn’t even finished making breakfast yet. “Isabel, where is she?” Cullen’s tone was short, his frustration evident.
Isabel almost flinched at his tone, which just made her cautious “Cullen, good morning” she said pointedly, clearly showing that he needed to correct his tone.
“I’m sorry, Isabel. Good morning.” Cullen said, more softly this time though the edge of frustration still lingered “It’s… important”. He hated feeling this way. He hated the feeling of doubt, that he needed to question the woman he loved. But more than anything, he hated the thought that she could be working against him.
Isabel sighed, studying him for a moment “She’s in the library,” she said giving him a knowing glance “But, Cullen… a conversation, not an argument” she reminded him obviously aware of where this was going.
He took a deep breath, nodding to Isabel. He walked slowly to the library, willing himself to calm down, to let go of the frustration the report had caused him.
Cullen hesitated just outside the library, his hand resting on the doorframe. This wasn’t how he wanted their morning to begin, but the questions clawed at him relentlessly. Every logical part of him screamed for patience, for trust, yet the doubts refused to quiet.
As he reached the doorway, he caught sight of her curled up on one of the chairs by the fireplace, a book in her lap, and a cup of tea in her hand. He let himself just be captivated by her for a moment. Letting the sight of her still him like she always did. She was safe and unharmed.
Almost as if she had heard his thoughts she suddenly looked up, her expression shifting quickly from surprise to joy as she realized it was him. Without warning, she immediately set her tea down and set the book aside jumping up from her chair and crossing the distance to him.
“I didn’t think I’d see you this early” she said as she wrapped her arms around him.
Cullen wanted to lose himself in her embrace, but he knew that if he did he wouldn’t be objective. Before she could even kiss him she grabbed her arms setting them back down at her sides “We need to talk.” his tone even but clipped.
He watched as Ariana’s expression immediately turned to one of confusion and something else, fear maybe. He noticed the shift in her breathing, suddenly shorter, heavier breaths.
She tilted her head slightly “Cullen, what’s wrong?” Ariana’s tone was laced with concern and uncertainty. She took a couple of steps away from him almost as if she was suddenly afraid of him, which felt like a knife through his chest.
Cullen exhaled sharply, handing her the report. “A mage transport was intercepted,” he said, his hazel eyes locking onto hers. “By a ‘well-armed group and a woman in a dark cloak’.”
Ariana’s gaze flicked over the report, her fingers gripping the edge a little too tightly. Her eyes moved rapidly, but Cullen caught the momentary pause—too brief for anyone unfamiliar with her to notice—as if she’d found something unexpected.
“And you’ve come to me because…?” she asked, her voice steady, though Cullen caught a faint edge to it—something strained, like the words were harder to keep level than she wanted him to know.
“Because I know you have friends among the Rangers,” Cullen replied, his frustration seeping into his tone. “And because you just came back from Starkhaven. That transport was coming from Starkhaven.”
Ariana’s lips parted slightly, as though caught off guard. “I’m sorry,” she said, walking past him to the table and setting down the report. “Let me see if I understand this. Because I went to Starkhaven, you think I’m involved?” Her face displayed a mixture of confusion and anger.
“I think you know who was.” Cullen said keeping his tone even, trying to avoid escalating seeing the expression on her face.
Tears welled up in her eyes as she put her hands on the table, reading the report over again. She looked up, bliking to seemingly get rid of the tears. “I assume you think the Rangers did this?”
“I do” Cullen replied giving no further explanation.
“I see nothing about the Rangers in this report. But,” she paused a moment as if trying to compose herself “even assuming it was them, why would you think I knew anything about this? My friendship with the Rangers doesn’t mean I know their every move. I know about as much of their operations as I do about your daily duties as Knight-Captain—which is to say, nothing.”
The logic of her words gnawed at him, even as doubt lingered. She was right, of course. Just as she wouldn’t be privy to his reports or the inner workings of the Order, there was no reason she would be privy to every move the Rangers made. But the timing, the location… it felt too deliberate to dismiss. “You expect me to believe that?” he asked, his voice rising slightly. “That you, of all people—”
Ariana interrupted him before he could finish “Yes. I do expect you to believe me.” She said as she turned to look at him, the frustration and hurt in her tone evident “I also can’t help but notice that your report mentions two of your own Templars defected. Doesn’t it make more sense that they orchestrated this?”
Cullen sighed. She was right. The report did indicate the Templars that defected helped them. Maybe if the Templars were that disappointed with the Order, with Meredith, they could have hired help. Or maybe…could the well-armed group have been more Templars?
“Ari, you’re—” Cullen began to apologize but Ariana interrupted him before he could say anything.
Ariana picked up the report from the table and slammed it against his chest as she walked towards the door “Good day, Knight-Captain” she said pointedly as she began walking towards the door “Let me know if there’s any other part of your job I need to do for you.”
Cullen stood frozen as Ariana stormed toward the library door, the soft steps of her bare feet whispering against the rug. She was still in her blue house robe, the fabric trailing around her ankles, loose and familiar. He didn’t mean for it to go like this—Maker, this was not how he wanted to confront her. His heart sank as she reached the doorway.
“Ariana, wait.”
She ignored him.
Before he could think better of it, Cullen strode after her, reaching out and catching her wrist. The motion was firm but careful, his gloved hand wrapping around her smaller one. Ariana stopped abruptly, her body tensing as she turned back to him. Her hazel-green eyes were alight with anger, confusion, and something else—hurt.
“Let me go,” she said quietly, her voice trembling more than he expected. She tugged at her arm, though half-heartedly, as if she wasn’t certain whether she wanted him to release her or not.
Cullen didn’t. “Ariana, please,” he said softly, the edge from earlier gone from his voice. His brows furrowed as he searched her expression. Maker, he hated seeing her like this—tears still shimmering in her eyes, her face pale from the heated exchange. The fact that he had been the one that caused this just made it that much worse.
“I was wrong,” he said after a long pause, the words quiet but earnest. “I’m sorry.”
Ariana froze. Her breath caught, her body still rigid in his grasp. She blinked, and for a moment, it was as if she didn’t know how to respond. Cullen took a breath, steadying himself. He had to say this right.
“I wasn’t accusing you. Not really. I…” He exhaled sharply, his grip loosening but not releasing her wrist entirely. “I’ve been frustrated. The Order is… it’s fracturing, Ariana. Meredith…” He shook his head, as if even saying her name tasted bitter. “The situation has been spiraling out of control. And after the other day, blaming you was easier than… admitting the truth.”
Ariana’s gaze softened, though her lips were still pressed into a thin line. She looked down, away from him, as if trying to compose herself. When she finally spoke, her voice was quieter, more fragile. “What truth?”
Cullen’s gloved hand slid down her arm until his fingers brushed against hers. He didn’t know how to tell her everything—that he felt helpless in the face of Meredith’s iron grip, that every day his faith in the Order wavered further, or that part of him feared he was losing himself again. But this, he could give her.
“That everything I’ve worked for… everything I’ve believed in… might not survive this city,” he admitted softly, his voice carrying a weight he hadn’t shared with anyone else. “And I can’t—I won’t—lose you too.”
The words hung between them, heavy and raw. Ariana lifted her eyes to meet his again, and this time, the tears he’d seen earlier spilled over silently. She stopped trying to pull away, her shoulders slumping slightly as if the fight had gone out of her.
“Cullen…” Her voice cracked faintly as she said his name, and that was all it took. He stepped closer, slowly, as if afraid she might retreat again. But she didn’t. Instead, Ariana closed the distance herself, leaning into him and letting her head rest gently against the hard plates of his chest armor.
Cullen’s arms encircled her, the coolness of his armor contrasting with the warmth of her body. He felt her shudder slightly as her head pressed against his chest, her breath soft and uneven. The cool leather of his gloves pressed lightly against her back as he pressed his cheek to the top of her head, breathing her in, grounding himself in the warmth of her presence and the familiar scent of cinnamon. For the first time since entering the estate, he felt the weight on his chest begin to ease.
They stood like that for what felt like forever, the silence between them no longer strained but comforting. Cullen ran a hand gently up and down her back, a soothing rhythm he hoped would steady her as much as it did him.
“You’re right, you know,” he murmured after a while, breaking the quiet. “About the report. About… everything. I shouldn’t have brought it to you like that.”
Ariana’s faint smile brushed against his chest. She didn’t lift her head, didn’t pull away, and for that, Cullen was grateful.
“You’re a stubborn man, Knight-Captain,” she said, her voice muffled but tinged with that teasing warmth he had missed.
He huffed a soft, relieved laugh. “So I’ve been told.” He hesitated a moment before adding with a wry smirk she couldn’t see, “Though there are probably parts of my job where I could use your eyes. You’d likely be better at it than I am.”
Ariana lifted her head just slightly, her hazel-green eyes peering up at him with faint amusement. “Are you saying I should take over as Knight-Captain?”
“Maker, no,” Cullen said quickly, a half-chuckle escaping him. “But I wouldn’t mind a second opinion on certain reports.”
Her small smile widened briefly before she leaned back into him again, letting her forehead rest against his armored chest.
Another silence followed, but this one was easy, filled only by the steady rhythm of their breathing and the faint crackle of the fire in the hearth.
“I missed you,” Cullen said at last, his voice barely above a whisper. He hadn’t meant to say it aloud, but he wouldn’t take it back.
Ariana’s arms tightened around him in response. “I missed you too,” she admitted softly.
For a little while, neither of them moved. The early morning light spilling through the tall windows, illuminating the quiet sanctuary they had found within each other’s arms.
Cullen sighed, reluctantly pulling back as much as he could bear. His hands lingered on her arms for a moment longer before he spoke.
“I need to get back to the Gallows,” he said quietly, as if he hated the words himself. “But… I’ll try to be back tonight.”
Ariana looked up at him, her expression still soft but concerned. “You don’t sound confident about that.”
Cullen offered a faint smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m not sure what the outcome of this report will be,” he admitted. “Meredith… will want answers. And she’ll want them now.”
Ariana opened her mouth as if to speak, but she stopped herself, her expression clouded with worry. She nodded, reluctantly stepping back. “Be careful, Cullen.”
“I will,” he promised softly. He hesitated before brushing his gloved fingers against her cheek, lingering for a heartbeat longer than he should have, before turning and walking toward the door.