5 Harvestmere 9:35 – 16 Wintermarch 9:36
Cullen sat at his desk, carefully weighing each word as he drafted the note. The flickering candlelight cast long shadows across the room, but his focus remained steady. He leaned back, tapping the pen against his chin as he tried to recall the memory he cherished most vividly. It had been years, but the details were etched in his mind like a finely drawn map—her laughter echoing against the ruins, the sunlight catching in her hair, the sound of sparring swords mingling with the distant crash of waves.
Ari,
Meet me by the ruins on the cliffs at dawn tomorrow. Bring whatever you might need for the day—and perhaps be ready for anything.
I’ll be waiting.
—Cullen
He read the note over again, smiling faintly before carefully folding it. For a moment, he allowed himself the luxury of imagining her expression when she read it. Would she remember that day near Lake Calenhad? Would it bring her the same comfort it brought him?
Then, as quickly as the warmth settled over him, doubt crept in. Cullen’s hand lingered on the parchment. Was this enough? Could a simple gesture—an echo of the past—bridge the growing gap between them? He’d seen her struggle, the weight she carried, and he wondered if this memory held the same meaning for her as it did for him. Still, he pushed the thought aside. It doesn’t need to be perfect. It just needs to be real.
He grabbed his cloak and made his way to Hightown, the cool evening air brushing against his face as he navigated the quiet streets. The sky was deepening into twilight, and the distant hum of the city felt muted, almost reverent.
When he reached the Trevelyan estate, Isabel greeted him at the door, her usual knowing smirk firmly in place.
“Cullen, are you here for Ariana?” Isabel asked, her tone teasing as her green eyes sparkled with curiosity.
“Not tonight,” Cullen replied, holding out the folded note. “Can you leave this on her bed? It’s a surprise for tomorrow.”
Isabel raised an eyebrow as she took the note, her expression shifting slightly. “A surprise, you say? For her birthday?”
Cullen hesitated, his tone softening. “It’s… a reminder. Of a simpler time.”
Isabel studied him for a moment, her smirk fading into something gentler. “A simpler time, hmm?” she said, her voice tinged with both amusement and understanding. “You know, Cullen, she might not say it, but she’ll appreciate the effort. She always does.”
He smiled at that, grateful for her reassurance. “Thank you, Isabel.”
She nodded, her smirk returning as she stepped back. “Now, go get some rest. I’m sure you’ll need it for whatever you’re planning.”
The ruins the next morning were everything Cullen had hoped for—quiet, timeless, and serene. The faint sound of waves crashing against the cliffs mingled with the distant calls of seabirds. A cool breeze carried the scent of salt and damp stone, and the rising sun painted the sky in shades of pink and orange.
Cullen had prepared everything: the training swords leaned against a moss-covered pillar, a basket of food rested on a nearby stone, and a small stack of books sat carefully wrapped in cloth. He glanced toward the horizon, his breath visible in the crisp morning air.
It wasn’t extravagant, but it didn’t need to be. It was a memory brought to life, a gift meant to remind her of the bond they’d forged long ago—and perhaps, to remind her of the man who would stand beside her through whatever lay ahead.
~~~
The words in the note made Ariana’s heart skip a beat. She recognized them instantly, the memory flooding back with startling clarity. That first birthday near Lake Calenhad had been one of the happiest days of her life—a day filled with laughter, light, and the ease of simply being together. She smiled to herself, tucking the note into her pocket. It was such a Cullen thing to do—to remember something so small yet so meaningful. It reminded her of the man she fell in love with, the man who still made her heart ache with both joy and longing.
She left the estate before dawn, wrapping herself in a cloak against the morning chill. The streets of Kirkwall were silent, the faint glow of lanterns guiding her steps as she made her way toward the cliffs. As she approached the ruins, the sight of the two training swords leaning against the pillar brought a wave of nostalgia so powerful it stole her breath. She paused, her gloved hand brushing the rough stone of the pillar, the memory of that long-ago day playing vividly in her mind.
Her eyes swept the ruins, searching for him. Cullen was nowhere to be seen, but she felt his presence lingering in the air, like a familiar warmth.
A faint shift of rocks to her left caught her attention. She smiled to herself, pretending not to notice.
When Cullen lunged from behind the pillar, wrapping his arms around her, she let out a surprised laugh, her heart leaping as she turned in his embrace to face him.
“You remembered,” she said softly, her voice tinged with emotion as she leaned up to kiss him.
“I’ve never forgotten,” he replied, his voice warm and steady, his hazel eyes filled with affection. He cradled the back of her head, holding her close as if anchoring himself in the moment. Then, with a playful grin, he stepped back, bending to grab the training swords. Tossing one to her, he said, “Now, let’s see if you can keep up.”
Ariana caught the sword with practiced ease, her eyebrow arching. “Are you sure you want to do this, Knight-Captain?”
“Are you ready to be bested, Lady Trevelyan?” Cullen retorted with a smirk, his playful challenge setting her heart alight.
They sparred as the sun rose higher, its golden rays casting long shadows across the ruins. The clash of wood against wood echoed in the crisp morning air, mingling with the distant sound of waves. Ariana moved like water, her strikes fluid and precise, her footwork light and agile. Cullen was relentless, each strike carrying the weight of his strength, his focus unwavering.
Their laughter punctuated the sparring match, each teasing the other between breaths. Ariana’s breath came in quick bursts as she dodged another heavy strike, her grin wide. “You’ve gotten better,” she remarked, feinting to the left before spinning to tap his shoulder with her sword. “Maybe I’ve taught you too much.”
Cullen laughed, breathless, his stance steady as he adjusted. “And you’ve gotten faster,” he admitted, wiping sweat from his brow.
They continued, each round more intense than the last, neither willing to yield. Finally, after a particularly swift exchange, they called a draw, collapsing onto the grass side by side. Their laughter mingled with the sound of the waves crashing far below, the warmth of their shared moment dispelling the coolness of the morning air.
“I’m impressed, Knight-Captain,” Ariana teased, nudging him lightly with her shoulder. “Not many can keep me on my toes.”
“So it seems,” Cullen replied, his tone filled with quiet admiration. He turned his head toward her, his gaze softening. “You realize just how remarkable you are, don’t you?”
Ariana’s breath caught, her chest tightening at the sincerity in his gaze. She searched for the right words, her emotions tangling in her throat. “You always bring out the best in me,” she managed quietly, her voice carrying a vulnerability she rarely allowed herself to show.
Cullen reached over, his fingers brushing against hers as he smiled. “Then I’ll make sure you never forget how extraordinary you are,” he said softly.
Ariana felt her heart swell, her love for him an ache and a comfort all at once. Beneath the rising sun, surrounded by the ruins that carried echoes of their past, she let herself believe, even if only for a moment, that the weight of their world could be lifted.
~~~
After sharing the food he had packed, Cullen pulled out one of the books, opening it to a marked page. He began to read aloud, his voice steady and calm as he recounted the tale of an Elvhen warrior who defied impossible odds. Ariana rested her head on his lap, her eyes half-closed as she listened, a soft smile playing on her lips.
“Are you sure we can’t run away?” she murmured, her voice wistful, barely louder than the whisper of the waves below. “I could spend the rest of my life like this.”
“Someday, Ari. I promise,” Cullen replied, his fingers gently combing through her hair. His words were tender but resolute, a vow spoken as much to himself as to her.
The sun dipped lower as the day wore on, casting the ruins in warm golden hues. As they sat together, watching the ships in the harbor, Cullen couldn’t help but wonder how he had ended up here. He had met the woman in his arms, the love of his life, six years ago. At that time, she was just a girl running away from a fate that had been decided for her, but she had been strong enough to carve her own path. More importantly, she had chosen to walk that path with him all those years ago—she had chosen him.
Cullen knew full well that the road ahead wouldn’t be easy, but he couldn’t imagine a world where he wasn’t by her side. The weight of his unspoken thoughts pressed against his chest, and he couldn’t hold back any longer. The words escaped him before he had fully thought them through.
“Ari,” he began softly, his voice almost hesitant. She looked up, her hazel-green eyes bright with curiosity. Cullen exhaled, his golden eyes searching hers as if seeking strength. “Marry me,” he said, the words firm but soft, a quiet plea. “Marry me, Ari. Please.”
Her breath hitched, and for a moment, she simply stared at him, her eyes wide with a mixture of disbelief and overwhelming emotion. Her lips parted as if to speak, but no sound came, her hand instinctively rising to cover her mouth as tears began to spill over.
He pulled back slightly, reaching into the pocket of his coat with a faintly nervous breath. “I—” Cullen paused, his voice catching as he revealed the small, simple ring resting in the palm of his hand. It wasn’t ostentatious, but its design held a quiet elegance: the centerpiece was a sapphire, its surface polished to a brilliant gleam, set within a starburst pattern. The star was surrounded by delicate engravings of vines and leaves, their intricate curves etched with painstaking precision. The blue stones that flanked the star glinted like tiny shards of sky, catching the light and drawing the eye to the center.
“The star…” Cullen began softly, his thumb brushing over the engraved lines, “I thought maybe you could follow it one more time.”
The ring wasn’t grand or extravagant—it was a reflection of him: simple, steady, and deeply meaningful. It was a token of the life they dreamed of, a life beyond the shadows of Kirkwall and the burdens they both carried.
For a moment, time seemed to still. Cullen’s heart pounded as he watched Ariana’s eyes widen, the shock flickering across her face like the first ripple in still water. She opened her mouth, then closed it, her lips trembling slightly as if the words caught in her throat.
Her hands moved instinctively, brushing over the ring he held as if to confirm its existence. Cullen caught the faint hitch in her breath, saw the way her gaze softened even as her brows knit together in a mixture of disbelief and overwhelming emotion.
When her eyes finally met his, they were shimmering with unshed tears. Her lips parted again, this time curving into a radiant smile that seemed to light up the dimming sky. He felt her fingers tremble as they wrapped around his, her grip tightening as if grounding herself in this moment.
“You… you mean it?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, carrying both awe and vulnerability.
Cullen nodded, his voice steady but low. “I’ve never been more certain of anything, Ari.”
Her laughter came softly, a sound that seemed to carry the weight of her joy and relief. “Yes,” she said, her voice breaking slightly, her smile widening. “Yes, Cullen. Of course, yes.”
Relief coursed through him, and as she threw her arms around his neck, he pulled her close, feeling the warmth of her embrace and the steady beat of her heart against his own. He felt her tears dampen his collar as she buried her face into his shoulder, but he knew they weren’t born of sadness. They sat like that for a moment, wrapped in each other, with the cliffs and sea as their silent witnesses.
Cullen pulled back just enough, taking her hand and gently took her hand and slipped the ring onto her finger. The delicate craftsmanship caught the fading light, a tangible symbol of everything they had shared, of the quiet strength that bound them together. She traced the star with her thumb, her fingers trembling slightly. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. She looked up at him, her eyes glistening with love and wonder.
As they sat in each other’s arms, staring out over the cliffs where the horizon kissed the sea, Cullen’s thoughts inevitably drifted back to the shadows that loomed over their lives. Meredith, the Templar Order, the weight of duty—they were ever-present, gnawing at the edges of his resolve. But as he felt the steady beat of Ariana’s heart against his own, he knew this was a battle he would fight. For her. For them.
“She won’t let us, will she?” Ariana’s voice broke through the silence, quiet but heavy with unspoken fears.
Cullen’s jaw tightened as he exhaled slowly, the truth clawing at him. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice low but steady. His arms tightened protectively around her. “But I won’t let her stop us—not forever.”
Meredith’s shadow loomed over every facet of his life, her grip relentless. He had endured her commands, her oppressive methods, her ability to instill fear in others—all in the name of duty. But this? This was a line she would not cross. Not for him. Not for them. Ariana was his light, his home, and he knew, with absolute certainty, that he would not let Meredith take that away.
He pressed a kiss to the top of Ariana’s head, his lips lingering there for a moment. “You will be my wife, Ari,” he said, the words a quiet promise. “No one—not Meredith, not the Order—no one will come between us.”
The ring was more than just a promise—it was his vow that no matter what the future held, nothing would come between them. Not Meredith. Not the Order. Nothing.
For tonight, they allowed themselves to simply exist in this moment, the future awaiting them—uncertain but no longer so daunting.
~~~
Cullen couldn’t sleep that night. Despite the peace of the room and the warmth of Ariana curled against him, his thoughts churned ceaselessly. There had been a small part of him—a cowardly, unworthy part—that had expected her to say no. Maybe even hoped she would. It wasn’t that he didn’t want her—Maker knew he wanted her more than anything. But she was nobility, and he was… who he was.
She deserved more than he could give her. A part of him had whispered that this wasn’t her path, that someone like Frederick, someone of her standing, might make her life easier. Safer. Meredith’s fixation on Ariana as a “distraction” had already complicated her life. What would Meredith do now, knowing they were engaged?
He glanced down at her, sleeping peacefully on his chest. Her dark hair spilled over his shoulder, and her hand rested lightly on his heart, the ring he had given her catching the faint moonlight. The sight of her eased his fears, as it always did, silencing the storm in his mind—if only for a moment.
She had said yes without hesitation, without doubt. And in truth, he had never doubted her love for him. Whenever she said it, he felt the truth of it in her words, in her actions. But still… was it enough? Did he need to be the one to remember who she was, what she had been born into? Did it matter?
He stared at the ring, the tiny sapphire catching the faint light. What if I fail her? The thought clawed at him, unrelenting. He had failed so many—mages, colleagues, himself. How could he be enough for someone like Ariana? She deserved a life free of shadows, of chains. Could he truly give her that?
Without realizing it, his fingers traced lazy circles over her hand, lingering on the delicate ring now gracing her finger. The star engraving and blue crystal had been chosen with care, something simple yet meaningful, like her. But as much as he wanted to believe it was perfect, the doubts remained.
“You’re overthinking things again, aren’t you?” Ariana’s sleepy voice cut through his thoughts, soft and tinged with amusement.
Cullen let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head at himself. “One of us has to,” he teased, though his voice held a hint of guilt.
Ariana propped herself up slightly, her hazel-green eyes catching his in the faint light. “Do you… regret it?” she asked, her tone low and hesitant, as though unsure she truly wanted the answer.
“Maker, Ari… no. Never.” He squeezed her hand, willing her to feel the sincerity in his words. “You’re the only thing in my life I’ve ever been sure of. Even when I didn’t know why, I knew I needed you. It’s just…” His voice faltered as his fingers returned to tracing the ring.
“It’s perfect, Cullen,” she said, her voice steadier now. She sat up slightly, leaning on her elbow to look at him. “I don’t know yet how to figure out everything I am or everything I need to be. But this?” She gestured toward the ring, her lips curving into a soft smile. “This is one of the few things I’m certain of. Who I am, who I’m meant to be—it’s here, with you.”
Her words struck something deep within him, unraveling the knot of worry he had carried since he first slipped the ring onto her finger.
“It reminds me,” she continued, her voice growing gentler, “that you’re the only person who’s ever truly seen me. You’ve always understood me, even when I couldn’t understand myself. Don’t overthink this, Cullen. I never needed or wanted anything grand or extravagant. I would never wear it if it was. This… is the most like myself I’ve felt in a long time.”
She leaned in, brushing her lips against his, and he responded instinctively, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her closer. The kiss was slow and reassuring, a silent promise exchanged between them.
As she settled against him again, her head resting on his shoulder, Cullen felt the doubts start to fade. She was right. She had chosen him—not the life she was born into, not some safer, more predictable path. She had left that behind, ran from it, even. She had stayed in Ferelden during the Blight for him, spent years searching for him.
And she had said yes to him.
He exhaled slowly, the weight on his chest beginning to lift. She had chosen him—not out of obligation, not because it was easy, but because she wanted him, flaws and all. If she can see something worth holding onto, then I’ll fight for us. Always. Cullen pressed a gentle kiss to her hair, his voice firm as he murmured, “I’ll protect this, Ari. I’ll protect us. No matter what.”
In the quiet of the night, with her steady breaths against his chest, Cullen allowed himself to believe that they could make it work. For now, that belief was enough.
~~~
Cullen woke first, the soft morning light filtering through the curtains. Ariana, in a rare moment of peace, was still fast asleep, her features relaxed and her breathing steady. He smiled, taking a moment to commit the sight to memory before slipping out of bed without disturbing her.
As he made his way down the stairs, the familiar scent of fresh coffee and bread baking greeted him. He chuckled quietly to himself, already guessing what scene awaited him in the kitchen.
Sure enough, Emma was perched on the counter, her tiny hands buried in a bowl of flour, streaks of white powder covering her face, her dress, and—somehow—the floor around her. Isabel was nearby, scolding gently but making no real effort to stop the chaos.
The moment Emma saw Cullen, she let out a delighted squeal, holding her arms out toward him. “Cullen! You’re here! You want flour?”
Cullen laughed, “I’d prefer the bread” he said stepping forward to scoop the flour-covered toddler into his arms. She giggled as she wrapped her arms around his neck, promptly transferring the flour onto his shirt.
“Would you stop encouraging the mess she’s making, Cullen,” Isabel teased, walking over with a towel in hand to clean off Emma—and now Cullen.
“It’s alright, Isabel,” he said with a grin, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead before she could swat him away. “I still need to change anyway.”
Isabel raised an eyebrow, clearly noting the unshakable smile on his face. “Well… what’s this then? Someone is in a particularly good mood this morning.”
Cullen hesitated for a moment, then sat down at the kitchen table, settling Emma onto his lap. He looked back at Isabel, his expression softening. “I asked her to marry me, Isabel.”
Isabel froze for a moment, the towel in her hand stilling as her sharp green eyes fixed on him.
“She said yes,” Cullen added, the memory of the night before flooding his mind—the way Ariana’s eyes had lit up, the joy in her voice, the feel of her in his arms as she said the words he hadn’t dared to dream of. His smile widened at the thought, uncontainable.
Isabel’s smile didn’t fully reach her eyes. She set the towel down deliberately, her movements slower than usual. Cullen caught the slight furrow in her brow, the way her fingers lingered on the edge of the table. It wasn’t hesitation born of surprise; it was something deeper, heavier.
“Well, of course, she did,” Isabel said, her tone light but carrying a noticeable edge that didn’t escape him. “That girl is in love with you.”
Cullen’s brow furrowed, her response not what he had expected. “But?” he asked, suddenly less sure of himself.
Isabel’s gaze softened, but her voice carried a quiet steel. “You’ve got to understand, Cullen. Ariana’s been through storms most of us wouldn’t survive. She’ll carry that weight alone, even if it breaks her. Not because she doesn’t trust you, but because she’s trying to protect you from it. That’s who she is.”
She paused, her gaze shifting between Cullen and Emma as though carefully choosing her words. “Can you, Cullen, be happy knowing that? Knowing that you may never find out what happened to her during her time in Ferelden? Can you stand by her even then?”
Cullen’s chest tightened. He had always known Ariana carried burdens she didn’t share, but now he felt the full gravity of that truth. There were moments—fleeting, but undeniable—when he caught her staring at nothing, her gaze distant, shadowed. He had told himself it wasn’t his place to pry, that love meant patience.
But was patience enough? He swallowed hard, his thumb brushing absently over Emma’s tiny hand. He now he wondered if he had underestimated the depths of what she carried. Could he be what Ariana needed if he didn’t even know what haunted her? Would love alone be enough to banish those shadows? Or would they always linger, just out of reach?
His chest tightened as Isabel’s words echoed in his mind. *What happened to her during her time in Ferelden?* There was something more there, something Isabel knew and struggled not to reveal.
Cullen’s brow furrowed, her words settling like a weight in his chest. “We all have secrets, Isabel,” he said after a moment, his voice quiet but firm.
Her sharp green eyes narrowed slightly, her expression unreadable as she studied him. “Do you?” she asked, her tone gentle but probing, as though she hadn’t fully expected that answer.
Cullen exhaled, leaning back slightly in his chair. “Kinloch Hold,” he began softly, the name alone carrying a shadow that darkened his features. His fingers instinctively clenched against Emma’s small hand before he forced himself to relax. “No one can imagine what it’s like for a tower to fall to abominations.” His voice faltered, the weight of the memory pressing down on him. “I wouldn’t be here if not for the Hero of Ferelden.”
Isabel’s sharp gaze lingered on him, her expression unreadable. “And you’ve never told her?”
He shook his head, his golden eyes steady but shadowed. “Some things are too heavy to place on someone else’s shoulders,” he replied, his tone quieter now, almost resigned. “Ariana may not know everything about my past, but she’s never demanded I share it. She accepts me as I am, without conditions.”
There was a beat of silence before Isabel leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. “I see,” she said, her voice soft but carrying a thread of something unspoken. “Maybe that’s why it works between you two. You both carry scars, but you don’t demand the other show them.”
As Cullen mulled over Isabel’s words, Emma tugged on his sleeve, her small voice breaking through the weight of the moment. “Cullen, why does your shirt smell like bread?” she asked, tilting her head in earnest curiosity.
He blinked, momentarily startled before a soft laugh escaped him. “Because someone,” he said, booping her on the nose, “decided to cover me in flour.”
Emma giggled, clapping her hands, the sound bright and unburdened. Cullen glanced at Isabel, who watched the exchange with a faint smile, her guarded expression softening briefly.
Isabel’s demeanor shifted instantly, her usual smirk returning. “Well, my child,” she said, walking over to Ariana. “I hear there’s something you need to tell me…”
Ariana looked between them, her expression shifting from confusion to understanding as her gaze landed on Cullen. A smile played on her lips, and Cullen couldn’t help but mirror it.
Before Isabel could respond, soft footsteps on the stairs drew their attention. Ariana appeared in the doorway, her hair tousled and her eyes still heavy with sleep. She paused, her gaze flicking between them as she rubbed her eyes. The subtle glint of the ring on her finger caught Isabel’s sharp gaze, and her expression softened.
“Well, my child,” Isabel said, her tone light but fond, “I hear there’s something you need to tell me.”
Ariana blinked, her hand brushing over the ring as if suddenly aware of it. Her lips curved into a soft smile. “You’ve heard, then,” she murmured, her voice still heavy with sleep.
Isabel stepped closer, gently taking Ariana’s hand and tilting it slightly to catch the light. Her sharp green eyes flicked to Cullen, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “It’s beautiful,” she said simply, her voice unusually soft. “It’s you.”
Cullen’s chest tightened, her words settling over him like a soothing balm. He hadn’t realized how much he’d needed to hear it, the quiet validation grounding him in his decision.
Ariana’s smile grew, her eyes glimmering with unspoken gratitude as she gently squeezed Isabel’s hand. “Thank you,” she said softly, the weight of the moment shared between them.
Isabel’s usual smirk returned, and she stepped back, waving a hand toward the kitchen. “Now, go on. Sit down before Emma destroys what’s left of breakfast. Maker knows that child gets away with far too much.”
Ariana laughed, the sound light and easy as she moved to Cullen’s side, her hand slipping into his. Cullen felt the tension in his chest ease further, the quiet intimacy of the moment strengthening his resolve.
~~~
Little could temper Ariana’s happiness at being engaged to Cullen. The last time she had been engaged, the feeling had been suffocating—a cage disguised as a promise. She hadn’t realized just how different it would feel to be engaged to someone she truly loved. Now, she found herself smiling at the smallest things, often without realizing it.
Hawke and Varric teased her mercilessly, their banter relentless. Even the Rangers weren’t above joining in—Riley, Valentina, and Linnea all took turns pointing out her uncharacteristic cheerfulness. If she were honest, Ariana didn’t mind the teasing. It felt good to laugh amidst the weight of their lives.
But winter had returned to Kirkwall, a stark reminder of the darkness that hung over the city. Another year had passed. Despite everything they had accomplished—the mages they had saved, the intelligence they had gathered—the Divine’s orders remained unchanged.
Stay invisible. Act subtly. Avoid drawing attention.
The words gnawed at her, a bitter mantra she wanted desperately to reject. How could they remain subtle when the world around them screamed for action? How could she stay silent when delay meant more lives lost to the horrors of the Gallows? More children taken from their families? More people crushed under Meredith’s iron rule?
The mission that morning had been a tipping point.
Linnea’s scouts had identified a transport route along the Wounded Coast, one being used to deliver mages to Kirkwall. Ariana had led the effort with her usual precision, but this time, she had made a choice she knew was reckless. She wore her iconic white cloak. She needed people to know that someone—the White Wolf—was watching, was coming to save them.
The ambush was swift, the Rangers striking with their characteristic efficiency. No casualties, no unnecessary bloodshed—just as Ariana demanded. By the time the mages were freed and the Templars disarmed, the Rangers were already escorting their charges to safety.
But then, three Templars approached, their movements hesitant. Their armor bore the marks of countless battles, and exhaustion clung to them like a shadow.
The youngest of the three—a man barely out of training—stepped forward, his sword still in hand but held low. His voice wavered, but his resolve was clear. “We can’t… we can’t keep doing this,” he said. “We want to help. Please, let us come with you.”
Ariana studied him closely, her hazel-green eyes sharp but not unkind. She saw the guilt in his expression, the same weight Michael had carried when he spoke of the Gallows. Her voice was calm, measured. “Sheathe your weapons.”
The young man obeyed immediately, motioning for his companions to do the same. They complied, each exhaling as though they had been holding their breath for years.
“Why?” Ariana asked softly, her tone carrying the weight of all that was unsaid. “Why leave now, after everything?”
The young man hesitated, glancing nervously at the Rangers flanking her. “Because we’ve seen enough,” he admitted, his voice trembling but resolute. “We’ve heard the whispers, seen the fear in the mages’ eyes. The Gallows isn’t a sanctuary—it’s a prison. And Meredith…” He faltered, his grip tightening on the hilt of his sheathed sword. “Meredith is losing her mind. We can’t be part of this anymore.”
Ariana nodded slowly, her expression softening but still guarded. “You understand what this means?” she asked. Her voice carried no malice, only the weight of truth. “There is no turning back. We will protect you, and we will accept your help gladly. But once you leave the Order, there’s no going back.”
The three Templars exchanged quick glances, a silent conversation passing between them. Then, with quiet conviction, the young man replied, “We are prepared to accept the consequences.”
Ariana allowed a faint smile to touch her lips. “Then you will always have a home and a purpose among the Rangers.” She gestured to Linnea. “She will get you where you need to go.”
With that, Ariana turned and walked away, her white cloak billowing behind her. She didn’t look back, leaving Linnea to handle the defectors.
What she didn’t realize was that not every Templar had been subdued. A single knight, hidden among the rocks nearby, had overheard fragments of the exchange. He hadn’t seen the White Wolf’s face, but the name alone—spoken in hushed reverence—was enough to set events in motion.
~~~
Cullen’s eyes lingered on the report, the words blurring together under the dim light of his office. “A figure in a white cloak. The White Wolf?” The name stirred something deep within him—a mixture of gratitude and suspicion. He thought back to the Qunari uprising, to the moment when that enigmatic figure had saved his life and stood as a bulwark against chaos. Back then, the White Wolf had been a symbol of hope, a hero amidst Kirkwall’s madness. But now, if the reports were true, they had become something else entirely—a force acting outside the boundaries of law and order.
The knock on his door jolted him from his thoughts. He glanced up, tension already tightening in his chest. “Come in,” he called, his voice sharper than intended.
The door opened, and Ariana stepped inside, her presence a beacon of warmth amidst the cold stone walls. For a fleeting moment, his shoulders relaxed at the sight of her. Even here, in the heart of the Gallows, she could still bring him a sense of calm.
“You’re here,” he said, gesturing to the chair across from him.
“I’m not fond of visiting the Gallows,” she said with a small, teasing smile, settling into the chair. “But for you… anything.”
Her words, meant to soothe, struck a dissonant chord. His fingers tightened around the edge of the report, and he hesitated before speaking. “There’s something I need to talk to you about.”
Her smile faltered, replaced by quiet concern. She leaned forward slightly. “What is it?”
Cullen leaned forward as well, his elbows resting on the desk, fingers laced together as though bracing himself. “There’s been a report… about the White Wolf. It seems they’ve resurfaced in Kirkwall.”
He watched her closely, searching for any crack in her composure. Her expression remained steady, though he thought he caught the faintest flicker of something—surprise, perhaps, or was it something more carefully veiled? “The White Wolf? Here?” she asked, her voice calm, curious. “What makes you think that?”
“The transport ambush this morning,” he explained, keeping his tone even despite the storm inside him. “Three more Templars defected. One of the knights overheard an exchange—a mention of the White Wolf. And then there’s the description: a figure in a white cloak.” He paused, letting the words hang heavily. “Do you know if the Silver Rangers are involved?”
She hesitated—a heartbeat’s pause, but enough to set his nerves on edge. “You’ve asked me about their activities before, Cullen,” she said, her voice steady but firm. “Why would my answer be different now?”
The deflection gnawed at him, though he couldn’t pinpoint why. He leaned back, exhaling deeply, his fingers tapping against the desk. “The last time I saw the White Wolf, they saved my life,” he said, his voice quieter now. “Why would they turn to this? Why intercept mage transports now?”
Her eyes softened slightly, though her voice carried a quiet strength. “Perhaps they believe the mages need saving. Would you disagree?”
The question struck harder than he anticipated. He wanted to disagree, to hold firm to his convictions, but the truth gnawed at the edges of his resolve. “No,” he admitted, frustration bleeding into his tone. “But mercenaries involving themselves in a Templar matter is not the answer. Why are they doing this? Who are they working for?”
Her gaze didn’t waver, her tone unwavering. “If it’s them… I’m sure they believe in what they’re doing.”
The response felt like a wall he couldn’t breach. “You think mercenaries are the answer?” he pressed, his voice rising slightly. “That they can be trusted to do what’s right? Their loyalty is bought, Ariana. It shifts with the wind.”
“Sometimes, Cullen,” she replied, her tone sharpened like a blade, “the people in the shadows act because the light has failed them.”
The words cut through him, leaving him grappling with their implications. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply as he looked down at the report. “If the White Wolf and the Rangers are involved… I need to know. The Order will not look the other way. I can’t look the other way.”
Her voice softened, though it carried a weight he couldn’t ignore. “And if I do find out something?” she asked. “What would you do with that knowledge?”
The question stopped him cold. What would he do? His duty demanded action, but his heart faltered at the thought of betraying her trust—or asking her to betray those who had cared for her. He struggled with the thought of those people protecting her in ways he couldn’t. “I need to know, Ari,” he said, his tone firm but carrying a note of desperation. “The Order demands justice.”
Sadness flickered in her eyes, though she kept her composure. “Then it would be best if I don’t involve myself. I can’t be the one to help you capture the only people trying to help.”
Her words hit him like a blow. She wouldn’t choose him in this. She wouldn’t choose the Order. “Ariana,” he said slowly, disbelief tinging his voice. “This is serious. If you know anything, I need to know.”
She reached across the desk, her hand resting briefly on his. “You’re asking me to betray the people who cared for me when I was alone. For what? For Meredith?”
He pulled his hand back, his jaw tightening. “It’s not Meredith,” he said, though the words felt hollow. “It’s about justice. It’s about what’s right.”
“Justice looks different depending on where you stand,” she said softly, her gaze unwavering.
Cullen stared at her, his chest tightening as doubt and frustration warred within him. Do I trust her enough? Or do I trust her too much?
When she finally rose to leave, her expression calm but unreadable, he felt the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on him. As the door closed behind her, Cullen stared at the report once more, the words blurring as his thoughts spiraled into uncertainty.
~~~
Ariana’s mind churned with the weight of her conversation with Cullen as she walked back to Hightown. Each step felt heavier than the last as she replayed his words and her own. Had she lied outright, or merely danced around the truth? The distinction felt meaningless. Every step she took deeper into the Rangers’ work, every intercepted transport, every secret she kept from him, pulled her further from the man she loved.
How can I marry him when I keep lying to him?
The thought clawed at her until a familiar voice broke through the storm.
“I hear we have a wedding to plan…”
She froze, her head snapping toward the sound. A smile broke through unbidden as she spotted Frederick leaning casually against a wall, his arms crossed, his expression warm but laced with quiet understanding.
“Fred,” she whispered, her voice cracking as she ran to him, throwing her arms around his neck. “I’d ask what you’re doing here, but…” Her voice softened, her grip tightening. “I’m just happy to see you.”
Frederick’s arms enveloped her with a steadiness she hadn’t realized she needed. “Well,” he said lightly, “I expected the bride-to-be to seem happier…”
His teasing tone carried an undercurrent of concern that made her throat tighten. She pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, her hazel-green eyes glassy. “I could use a friend.”
“Then let’s talk,” he said simply, offering his arm in the familiar way that always made her feel like a girl again.
The familiar comfort of the Trevelyan estate offered a small reprieve. She led him to the sitting room, where the fire crackled softly, casting warm light against the cool stone. She sank onto the couch, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, her vision blurring as tears pricked her eyes.
“Will you just sit here with me for a while?” she asked, her voice trembling.
Frederick didn’t hesitate. He shed his cloak, kicked off his boots, and settled beside her, draping an arm around her shoulders. Without a word, she leaned into him, letting his steady presence anchor her.
For a while, they sat in silence, the only sound the crackling of the fire.
“You want to tell me what this is about?” Frederick’s voice was gentle but probing. “Or does being engaged just not suit you?”
Ariana let out a soft, shaky laugh, grateful for his attempt to lighten the mood. “I love him, Fred,” she said quietly, her voice wavering. “More than anything. But…” She trailed off, her breath catching as the words she had tried so hard to bury spilled out. “I know I’m going to lose him.”
Her tears came then, slipping down her cheeks as the admission hung in the air like a blade poised to fall.
Frederick tightened his hold on her, his voice low and soothing. “I doubt that. I watched the way he looked at you, Ari. I’ve never seen a man more in love. Tell me what’s happening.”
She shook her head, her sobs subsiding into uneven breaths. “It’s… it’s the life I have to keep from him. The lies I have to tell…”
Frederick’s silence was thoughtful. When he finally spoke, his voice was calm. “You mean the mages you’re helping? He doesn’t know yet, does he?”
She shook her head again, unable to speak.
“I suppose that makes sense,” Frederick said, his tone far gentler than she expected.
She looked up at him, searching his face for any hint of judgment. “You don’t think I should have told him?”
Frederick shook his head, meeting her gaze steadily. “No. Not yet.”
“But why—”
“Because,” he interrupted gently, “you’d be putting him in an impossible position. If you tell him everything, you’re asking him to keep secrets from the Order—secrets that could destroy his career, his life. Cullen’s a good man, Ari, but you know how much his duty means to him. Could you live with yourself if it tore him apart?”
Ariana’s lips parted as if to argue, but no words came. She dropped her gaze, her fingers twisting together. “What if I lose him when he finds out? What if he’s angry?”
Frederick sighed, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Then he wasn’t the man you thought he was.” He paused, his voice softening further. “But I don’t think that’s the case. He loves you, Ari. He just doesn’t know how to bridge the gap between who he thinks you are and who you truly are.”
Her voice barely above a whisper, she asked, “How did you bridge that gap?”
Frederick chuckled softly, the sound tinged with regret. “I lost you, remember?”
Ariana’s heart sank. Is that what it would take? Did she need to risk losing Cullen and simply hope he would forgive her in time? The thought terrified her, but Frederick’s words carried an undeniable truth.
“I don’t want to lose him,” she said softly, her voice trembling with emotion.
“You won’t,” Frederick said firmly, his hand brushing her hair back gently. “But he needs to understand you fully, just as you’ll need to understand him. That kind of love… it takes time. And sometimes, it takes losing something to truly see its worth.”
His words settled over her, sinking deep into the cracks of her fear. She leaned into him again, the weight of her secrets still heavy but no longer crushing.
For now, she wasn’t alone.
And for the first time in years, she allowed herself to hope that maybe, just maybe, this wouldn’t break them apart.