10 – 30 Drakonis – 9:37
Cullen stood outside Knight-Commander Meredith’s office, the weight of his decision pressing heavily on his shoulders. His thoughts churned as he stared at the worn wooden door, his mind replaying the countless moments that had led him to this point. Each memory brought a fresh wave of doubt and resolve, a battle waged within as he steeled himself for the confrontation ahead. The stakes were clear: his future with Ariana. His breath hitched as he fought to calm the storm raging within, knowing there was no turning back now. The formal request to marry Ariana had been delivered weeks ago, and he knew the conversation awaiting him would be far from pleasant. Still, he was unprepared for the cold fury that awaited him when he stepped inside.
Meredith set the parchment down on her desk with a deliberate motion, her expression carved from stone. The document bore the formal seal of his office, its contents clearly outlining Cullen’s intentions. “This is… unexpected,” she began, her tone clipped. “Though perhaps I should not be surprised, given your increasing lack of focus in recent years.”
Cullen clenched his jaw, refusing to rise to the bait. “Knight-Commander,” he said evenly, “my request is made with full acknowledgment of my duties and the Order’s expectations.”
Meredith’s lips pressed into a thin line as she leaned forward, folding her hands on the desk. “A formal request to marry? I had hoped this ‘casual distraction,’ as I generously described it, would have run its course by now. But it seems I have indulged you far too long.”
“It is not a distraction,” Cullen said, his voice tightening. “Lady Trevelyan—Ariana—is—”
Meredith cut him off with a sharp wave of her hand. “Enough. Do not delude yourself into believing this is anything more than a lapse in judgment. You know what we are, Knight-Captain. What we sacrifice. This… indulgence… is an affront to everything the Order stands for.”
Her words struck like a whip, but Cullen kept his expression controlled. “Lady Trevelyan is not a distraction,” he said evenly, though his voice carried a faint edge. “She is—”
“She is a complication,” Meredith cut in sharply. “One that you have allowed to cloud your judgment and divide your loyalties. This has gone far enough.”
Cullen’s jaw tightened, his hands clenching briefly before he forced himself to relax. “With respect, Knight-Commander, my loyalty to the Order has never wavered.”
“Has it not?” Meredith’s eyes narrowed, her tone dripping with disdain. “Perhaps you should ask yourself why these intercepted mage transports and escapes have become so frequent under your watch. You think I don’t see the connection? Your attention divided, your focus elsewhere—it is no coincidence.”
The accusation stung, but Cullen stood his ground. “We have investigated all these incidents thouroughly. My relationship with Lady Trevelyan has nothing to do with this. Nor has my focus been elsewhere during these investigations. There’s no eviden–”
Meredith slammed her hand down on the desk, the sound reverberating through the room. Cullen’s shoulders tensed involuntarily, the sharp crack a blow against his carefully maintained composure. His fingers twitched at his sides, clenched into fists as he drew in a steadying breath, forcing himself to remain still despite the impulse to react. “Do not speak to me of evidence, Knight-Captain. These mercenaries grow bolder because they sense weakness in the Order. Your weakness.”
Cullen took a sharp breath, the weight of her words settling heavily on him. He had come here prepared for resistance, but this—this was something else entirely.
Meredith’s voice turned cold, almost mocking. “You are not the first Templar to seek solace outside the Order, Knight-Captain. But this… romantic delusion you cling to? It is unbecoming of your station. If you have needs, I suggest you do as others do and frequent the Blooming Rose. At least then you would not disgrace yourself with such frivolity.”
Cullen’s stomach tightened, the venom in her tone cutting deeper than he anticipated. Her words twisted in his mind, igniting a familiar conflict: the relentless duty to the Order and the undeniable pull of his love for Ariana. He could feel the heat rise to his face, not from shame but from a searing anger he struggled to keep in check. How dare she reduce something so profound to a mere indulgence? “Ariana is not some fleeting desire. She is the woman I love, and I will not debase her—or myself—with such comparisons.”
Meredith’s eyes narrowed dangerously, her voice lowering to a chilling tone. “Careful, Knight-Captain. Your emotions are showing.”
For a moment, silence hung between them, the tension so thick it seemed to suffocate the room. Cullen took a deep breath, forcing himself to step back. He couldn’t afford to lose control—not here, not now.
Meredith rose from her chair, her presence as imposing as the cold steel of her blade. Cullen felt his breath catch, his body stiffening as a wave of unease rippled through him. The weight of her gaze bore down on him, a silent reminder of the power she wielded—and the danger of opposing her. “You need to decide, Knight-Captain,” she said, her voice quiet but cutting. “The Order or Lady Trevelyan. Your future cannot include both. She is a weakness.”
Cullen met her gaze, despite the storm raging within him. The fury and frustration that burned in his chest, clashing with the ache of loyalty he could not shake. Every fiber of his being demanded he push back, but the weight of his oaths and the love he refused to relinquish pulled him in opposing directions, forcing him to maintain a fragile, defiant calm. “That is not a choice you can demand of me,” he said slowly, his voice trembling with suppressed anger, “I will not abandon her.”
Meredith’s lips twitched into a faint, humorless smile. “You mistake my meaning. Consider this your final warning, Knight-Captain. Let go of this foolishness, or I will do it for you.”
The words hit Cullen like a blow, and for a moment, he stood rooted to the spot. His mind churned with a whirlwind of emotions: fury, dread, and a fierce determination that eclipsed them both. The very thought of Meredith threatening Ariana sent a cold shiver down his spine, but it also stoked the embers of his defiance. His fists clenched at his sides as he forced himself to breathe steadily, knowing that any outward reaction would only give her more ammunition. Yet, beneath the surface, his resolve hardened—he would find a way to protect Ariana, no matter the cost.
Without another word, Meredith sat back down, dismissing him with a pointed glance at the door. Cullen stood there for a moment, his heart pounding in his chest, before turning sharply on his heel and walking out.
As the heavy doors closed behind him, his mind raced. Meredith’s ultimatum loomed over him like a sword poised to fall. But even in the face of her threats, one thought burned brighter than all the rest: I will not let her take this from me. Not Ariana. Not our future.
For the first time in years, Cullen felt a flicker of something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in the Gallows: defiance. It surged through him like a spark in dry tinder, igniting a resolve that hinted at the choices he might soon have to make—choices that could risk everything he held dear.
~~~
The evening air was cool, the fading light casting long shadows along the cobblestone streets of Hightown. Cullen walked beside Ariana, his steps slow and deliberate, his usual measured gait somehow heavier. Ariana stole a glance at him, noting the furrow in his brow and the way his hands occasionally clenched into fists before relaxing again. He was troubled, and while he hadn’t said as much, his silence spoke volumes.
“Cullen,” Ariana said softly, breaking the silence as they approached the estate. “You’ve been quiet since we left the Gallows. What’s wrong?”
“It’s nothing for you to worry about,” he replied, his voice steady but distant.
“Don’t do that,” she said, her tone tinged with gentle insistence. “If you’re worried, then I do need to worry. Talk to me.”
He hesitated, his jaw tightening as he stared at the path ahead. Finally, he exhaled deeply, his voice quieter when he spoke. “As we expected, Meredith has denied my request to marry you.”
Ariana nodded, unsurprised. They had anticipated as much. “And?” she pressed, sensing there was more.
Cullen stopped walking, turning to face her. His expression was a mix of frustration and unease, emotions he rarely let show so openly. “It wasn’t just a denial, Ariana. Her tone… it was more than that. It felt like a threat. As if she’s… considering taking action against you.”
Ariana’s heart tightened, though she kept her expression calm. She wasn’t afraid of Meredith—she had faced worse threats in her life. But the thought of Meredith turning her focus more directly on her was troubling. If Meredith came for her, it would be impossible to hide who she truly was.
Cullen’s voice softened, his concern evident. “I don’t know what she’s planning, but I won’t let her hurt you. I’ll find a way to stop this, I swear.”
Ariana placed a hand on his arm, offering a reassuring smile despite the turmoil inside her. “We knew this wouldn’t be easy, Cullen. But we’ll face it together. She doesn’t scare me.”
“You should be scared,” he said, his voice nearly breaking. “She’s more dangerous than you realize.”
“I know exactly how dangerous she is,” Ariana replied firmly. “And I’m not going anywhere.” She tilted her head slightly, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “Besides, I’ve got the Champion of Kirkwall on my side. What’s Meredith got? A shiny sword and an attitude?”
Cullen’s mouth twitched, his half-hearted chuckle breaking through the tension. “You’re impossible,” he murmured, though his voice carried a hint of fondness.
“And yet, you’re still here,” Ariana quipped, her smirk softening into a reassuring smile.
He held her gaze for a long moment, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “Let’s just get inside,” he said quietly, gesturing toward the estate.
They reached the estate doors, the familiar warmth of home beckoning them inside. However, as they stepped into the kitchen, the scene that greeted them stopped Ariana in her tracks.
Her father, Charles, was seated at the table, his usual calm and dignified presence filling the room. But it was the woman sitting beside him that caught Ariana completely off guard.
“Mother…” Ariana whispered, instinctively stepping back, pressing herself closer to Cullen. His arm shifted protectively around her, grounding her as her mind raced. The last time she had seen her mother, Elara had tried to take her from Kirkwall by force, barely acknowledging her as more than a disobedient daughter. And yet, here Elara sat, her posture calm, her gaze filled with something Ariana couldn’t quite place.
Her mother stood there, looking nothing like the woman Ariana had always known. Elara’s elegant posture and noble bearing were still present, but her attire was simpler, more practical—a modest blue gown with soft embroidery at the cuffs, its fabric free of the intricate embellishments Ariana had come to associate with her. It was as if she had shed the armor of formality, allowing a gentler version of herself to emerge. There was a quiet humility about her that Ariana had never seen before. She seemed… human.
Ariana’s gaze flickered to Isabel, who was standing at the counter with a faint smile. The sight was nearly as unsettling as seeing Elara herself. Were they… chatting? How could these two women, who seemed as different as fire and ice, look so at ease with one another?
A knot tightened in Ariana’s chest, suspicion prickling at the edges of her thoughts. Her father’s calm smile, Elara’s softened demeanor, and Isabel’s serenity—it all felt wrong. This wasn’t just a casual visit; it couldn’t be. She knew her father would never risk bringing Elara here without good reason. Yet, for the life of her, Ariana couldn’t imagine what that reason could be.
“Ariana,” Charles said, his voice breaking the silence. He rose from his seat, a warm smile spreading across his face. “You’re home.”
Ariana’s gaze flickered between her parents, her confusion and frustration swirling. “What’s going on here?” Her voice wavered, her usual sharp edge dulled by the uncertainty pressing against her chest. Was her mother here to undermine her engagement, to weave some scheme that would force her back into a life she had fought so hard to escape?
Charles glanced at Elara, his smile faltering slightly. “I know I promised no one would visit without your approval, but… I thought this might be an exception.”
Elara turned to face Ariana fully, her expression soft and hesitant—an almost foreign look on her once-imperious face. “Ariana,” she began, her voice trembling slightly, “may I speak with you?”
Ariana blinked, the words catching her off guard. She couldn’t remember the last time her mother had asked her for anything, let alone permission to speak.
Elara’s gaze softened further, and for the first time in years, there was no trace of judgment or disappointment in her eyes. Only something that looked startlingly like regret. “I know I have no right to ask this of you, but… please.”
Ariana’s eyes darted back to Isabel, who regarded Elara with an almost serene understanding. Isabel crossed the room, her movements deliberate and calm. She placed a hand on Ariana’s arm, her touch steadying. “It’s alright, my child,” she said softly, her voice filled with warmth. “You should let her speak. I believe you’ll want to hear what she has to say.”
Ariana hesitated, her heart pounding in her chest. Isabel’s reassurance meant everything, but the knot of uncertainty remained. She turned to Cullen, seeking his face, his approval, his guidance.
Cullen’s hand moved to her cheek, his touch gentle. “Go,” he said softly, his golden eyes filled with quiet understanding. “I’ll be here if you need me.”
Ariana swallowed hard, her emotions a swirling mix of fear, anger, and fragile hope. She took a tentative step forward, her eyes never leaving her mother’s. Elara extended a hand, her movements slow and unassuming.
“May I?” Elara asked, her voice trembling with vulnerability.
Ariana hesitated, her mind racing with memories of a colder, harsher woman. Yet now, the person before her seemed entirely different. Cautiously, she placed her hand in her mother’s, feeling the warmth of her touch. Elara’s fingers closed gently around hers, and for the first time in years, Ariana didn’t pull away.
Elara led her toward the courtyard, the soft rustle of their footsteps the only sound in the quiet house. Ariana’s mind churned with a storm of emotions. Fear lingered at the edges, a reflexive response to the uncertainty of her mother’s intentions, but it was overshadowed by a cautious curiosity. She struggled to untangle the conflicting feelings of resentment and fragile hope—could her mother truly be different now? Her thoughts flickered to Cullen and Isabel behind her, their quiet encouragement grounding her. Whatever her mother had to say, she resolved to face it with strength, but the question of what lay ahead still sent a chill through her.
~~~
The evening air had taken on a chill as Ariana followed Elara into the courtyard. The soft glow of lanterns lit the garden paths, casting flickering shadows on the stone walls. Ariana’s hand rested in her mother’s, the gesture foreign and tentative, as though neither woman truly knew what to do with it.
Elara finally stopped by the fountain at the center of the courtyard, the gentle sound of water filling the silence between them. She released Ariana’s hand, turning to face her daughter fully. For a moment, she said nothing, her eyes searching Ariana’s face as though memorizing every feature.
Ariana crossed her arms, her stance defensive. “Why are you here, Mother?” she asked, her voice calm but laced with uncertainty. The question hung in the air like a challenge, daring Elara to prove she deserved to be here.
Elara’s sigh was soft, but it carried the weight of years. Her shoulders sagged, a crack in the facade Ariana had always known. “Because I needed to see you,” she said softly. “I needed to apologize.”
Ariana blinked, the words striking her like a physical blow. Her mother never apologized. Not for anything.
“When you were born… you were unexpected,” Elara began, her voice trembling. “But don’t misunderstand—unexpected, not unwanted. You were beautiful, a gift. I loved you more than words could say. But duty demanded I give you up to the Chantry. I thought… it would be easier to prepare myself for that heartbreak right away.” Her voice faltered, and she paused to steady herself. “As the years passed, I told myself it was best to keep my distance, to not let myself love you too deeply… because I knew I wouldn’t survive losing you.”
“You loved me?” Ariana’s voice was barely a whisper, the disbelief plain in her tone.
Elara’s eyes filled with pain, and she nodded. “Oh, Ariana… of course I loved you. I still do. I always have.” Her voice cracked, but she pressed on. “I resented your father for building the relationship I had denied myself. It wasn’t fair. And the longer he delayed giving you to the Chantry, the harder it became for me to face you. I buried myself in duty, thinking it was the only way to endure it.”
Ariana’s throat tightened as anger and sorrow warred within her. “Then why did you treat me like I was a burden?” she demanded, her voice trembling. “Why did it feel like I wasn’t enough?”
Elara flinched but didn’t retreat. “Because I was wrong,” she said, her voice breaking. “I let my pain cloud everything. I let resentment fester until it was all I could feel. And I was so proud of you, but I never let myself show it. I thought… I thought it was too late.”
Ariana looked away, her breath hitching as tears blurred her vision. “Why now?” she asked, her voice a whisper. “Why are you telling me this now?”
Elara took a step closer, her voice raw. “Because I’ve had time to see how much I’ve lost. I’ve spent years pretending I was right, but I wasn’t. I see that now. And I don’t want to lose you again—not without trying to make it right.”
The raw sincerity in Elara’s words cracked something deep within Ariana. The anger and hurt she had carried for years began to loosen, replaced by something fragile and unfamiliar: understanding. “You really were proud of me?” she asked, her voice barely audible.
Elara nodded, tears glistening in her eyes. “So proud,” she said softly. “But I let my pride and my pain keep me from telling you. And for that, I’m truly sorry.”
Ariana’s defenses crumbled as her arms dropped to her sides. She searched her mother’s face, looking for any trace of insincerity but found none. Slowly, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Elara, holding her tightly.
Elara’s breath hitched as she returned the embrace, her voice thick with emotion. “Oh, my dear girl, I love you so much.”
When they finally pulled apart, Elara guided Ariana to sit on the edge of the fountain. “Are you happy, Ariana?” she asked gently. “Is this the life you want?”
Ariana swallowed hard, brushing a tear from her cheek. “Yes,” she said firmly. “This is what I want. Cullen is what I want. I love him.”
Elara’s smile was small but genuine, her voice soft. “Then let me help you.” she said tentatively.
Ariana stared at her mother, stunned. “Help me?”
“With the wedding,” Elara repeated, her gaze dropping briefly to the ring on Ariana’s finger. “I would love nothing more than to help you make this everything you want it to be. Whatever you want, it’s yours.”
Ariana’s heart ached at the earnestness in her mother’s voice. Memories of the woman who had ruled her life with iron expectations surfaced, but they felt distant now, like shadows of another life. She hesitated, then nodded slowly. “Whatever I want?” she asked, her voice uncertain.
Elara nodded, tears slipping down her cheeks. “Of course, my darling. It’s your wedding. It can be as simple or as grand as you wish. I’ll make it happen.”
Ariana hesitated, the weight of the moment pressing on her chest. Her eyes flickered to her mother, to the tears glistening in Elara’s eyes, and then back to the ring on her finger. She took a steadying breath and finally nodded.
“Alright,” she said softly, her voice carrying a quiet determination. “Let’s plan a wedding.”
~~~
As soon as Ariana and Elara disappeared into the courtyard, Cullen’s expression darkened. The weight he had been carrying since his conversation with Meredith seemed to press even heavier on his shoulders. Isabel, who had been watching him closely, leaned casually against the counter, her sharp eyes never leaving his face.
“Alright, my boy,” Isabel said, her voice calm but pointed. “Out with it. What’s wrong?”
“It’s nothing,” Cullen replied quickly, his tone too rehearsed, too dismissive.
Isabel arched an eyebrow, her lips curling into a knowing smirk. “You’re a terrible liar, you know that? What is it?”
Cullen exhaled heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. For a moment, he considered deflecting again, but Isabel’s piercing gaze made it clear she wouldn’t let it go. Finally, he shook his head and relented.
“Meredith,” he began, his voice strained, “has denied my request to marry Ariana.”
Isabel nodded, unsurprised. “Of course, she did. We knew she would.”
Cullen hesitated, his fists clenching briefly at his sides. “It’s more than that. Her tone was… threatening. She called Ariana a distraction and made it clear that if I didn’t put an end to this, she would.”
The words had barely left his mouth when Charles stood abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. His calm demeanor shattered, replaced by a sharp, protective fury that filled the room. “She what?” he demanded, his voice a dangerous low growl.
Cullen blinked, startled by the sudden shift. “She—she implied she would take action if I didn’t break it off,” he said cautiously.
Charles’ eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening. “No one threatens my daughter,” he said, each word deliberate, a quiet storm building beneath his measured tone. “Not your Knight-Commander, not anyone.”
The weight of Charles’ words settled in the room like a heavy cloak. Isabel’s smirk vanished, her expression hardening as she crossed her arms. “Sounds like she’s finally overstepped,” Isabel remarked coldly. “She doesn’t get to make this personal.”
Charles’ hands rested on the table, his knuckles whitening as he leaned forward. “Cullen,” he said, his voice still low but simmering with barely contained rage, “understand this: we will not let her harm Ariana. If Meredith so much as breathes a word of threat again, I will take it directly to the Grand Clerics. I will see her stripped of her authority if that’s what it takes.”
Cullen hesitated, his instinct to bear the burden himself clashing with the fierce resolve in Charles’ voice. “Charles, I—”
“No,” Charles interrupted, straightening and pointing a finger at Cullen, though his tone softened slightly. “You’ve already carried too much. Let us handle this. I’ll call in every favor, every connection our family has to the Chantry. This ends now.”
Isabel nodded in agreement, her voice steady. “He’s right, Cullen. Meredith’s playing a dangerous game. Let Charles use his influence—you don’t have to do this alone.”
Cullen’s initial instinct to protest faltered as the reality of their words sank in. For years, he had carried the weight of his responsibilities alone, but now, standing before Charles and Isabel, he felt the cracks in his armor begin to mend. Slowly, he nodded. “Alright,” he said quietly. “If you think it will help…”
“It will,” Charles said firmly. “And Cullen, know this: we’re not just fighting for Ariana. You’re part of this family now. Elara and I will do everything in our power to protect both of you. And trust me, Meredith will regret crossing Elara if she tries.”
Cullen swallowed hard, the words settling heavily but warmly in his chest. He hadn’t realized just how much he needed to hear them until that moment. For so long, he had carried the fear that Ariana’s noble lineage would forever cast a shadow over their future together. But here, now, the doubts began to fade, replaced by a quiet, steady belief that this was where he belonged.
“Thank you,” he said softly, his gratitude genuine.
Charles placed a reassuring hand on Cullen’s shoulder. “We’ll face this together.”
Isabel, lightening the mood, smirked again. “And don’t forget to eat. You’ll need your strength if we’re going to put that Knight-Commander in her place.”
Despite the tension, Cullen allowed a faint smile to touch his lips. For the first time in days, he felt like he wasn’t standing on the edge of a cliff alone.
~~~
As Ariana and Elara stepped back into the kitchen, the warmth of the room felt like a stark contrast to the cool courtyard. Yet, the somber expressions on Charles, Isabel, and Cullen’s faces quickly dispelled that comfort. The tension in the air was palpable, and Ariana’s brows furrowed as she glanced between them.
“I see you must have heard about Meredith then?” she quipped, her tone lighter than the mood demanded.
“You knew?” Charles asked, surprised.
Ariana walked over to her father, giving him a quick hug, realizing she hadn’t greeted him yet. “Cullen just told me when we were walking back,” she explained.
“Meredith? What happened with the Knight-Commander?” Elara interjected, the only one unaware of the situation.
Before Cullen or Ariana could respond, Charles answered, his voice low and firm. “It appears the Knight-Commander believes it her place to threaten our daughter, Elara.”
“She what?” Elara’s tone sharpened, her composure unyielding as her gaze flicked to Cullen.
Charles, his smirk faint but deliberate, folded his arms. “The Knight-Commander has forgotten her place, and it’s time someone reminded her.”
Ariana caught the flicker of satisfaction in her father’s eyes, and for the first time, she saw a partnership between her parents, a natural rhythm she hadn’t known existed.
“Well, then,” Elara said calmly, her voice pointed. “It may be time someone reminded her of her station. I will send word to Lord Chancellor Orrick of Tantervale and Lord Vael of Starkhaven in the morning. For now, let’s forget this business and celebrate.”
Ariana couldn’t help but smile. For once, her nobility didn’t feel like a curse or a weight to be borne, but a boon. She walked back to Cullen, wrapping her arms around him. He returned the gesture, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Are you alright, love?” he asked softly, his voice meant only for her.
Ariana nodded, a soft smile playing on her lips.
“Come, sit down, all of you,” Isabel interrupted, breaking the moment. “Dinner is almost ready.”
As they all moved to the table, Isabel began setting it with a practiced ease, placing dishes of steaming food in the center. She was about to excuse herself when Elara’s voice stopped her.
“You’re not staying for dinner, Isabel?” Elara asked, her tone surprisingly gentle.
Isabel blinked, caught off guard. “My Lady?”
Elara tilted her head slightly, a small smile gracing her lips. “Please. I would be grateful if you joined us.”
Ariana’s shock was mirrored in Isabel’s hesitant glance toward her. “I should see to Emma,” Isabel began, her voice cautious.
“Then bring Emma back with you,” Elara insisted, her sincerity disarming. “There’s room at this table for both of you.”
Isabel hesitated for a moment longer before nodding. “As you wish, my Lady,” she said before disappearing into the hallway.
“Emma is Isabel’s daughter, is that correct?” Elara asked, her tone curious, not condescending.
“She is…” Ariana responded cautiously, debating whether this was the time to press the issue of Mark’s indiscretion.
Elara’s expression shifted to one of pure joy, a wholly unexpected reaction as far as Ariana was concerned. “I have been looking forward to meeting my granddaughter,” Elara said warmly.
“Elara?” Charles’ voice held a note of alarm, his own surprise barely masked.
Elara smirked, though it lacked her usual edge. “Oh, Charles, don’t look so shocked. That fool of a son you raised won’t keep me from meeting her. And Maker knows, his wife will probably never give him an heir,” she said in the most noble tone Ariana could recall. “And even if she does, it likely won’t be a Trevelyan…”
The table fell into stunned silence, everyone taken aback by Elara’s uncharacteristic warmth and the admission that followed.
Before anyone could respond, Isabel returned, carrying Emma in her arms.
Elara almost squealed in delight as she rose from her seat, rushing to meet Isabel. “Oh, is this my lovely granddaughter? She is precious! May I?” she asked, stretching her arms out.
Isabel, still visibly stunned, nodded, handing Emma over.
The look of joy on Elara’s face was almost too much for Ariana. She started laughing—whole-hearted, unrestrained laughter that echoed through the kitchen. Relief, joy, and something else she couldn’t quite name washed over her, and for the first time, the weight she always carried seemed lighter.
Ariana’s laughter drew everyone’s attention, their stunned faces now turned toward her. Cullen leaned in, his brow furrowed in concern. “Are you alright?” he asked softly.
Before she could answer, a familiar voice called from the hallway. “I could hear Ari laughing all the way down the corridor, what’s goin—” Michael froze as he stepped into the kitchen, his gaze landing on Charles and Elara. “Father… Mother?”
Ariana met his wide-eyed stare and simply shrugged, motioning for him to sit. As he moved hesitantly toward the table, Ariana took a moment to take it all in. Her family, fragmented and broken for so long, now felt as whole as it ever could. There was a long road ahead, and many wounds still needed healing, but for the first time, Ariana felt hope that they could make it.
~~~
Over the next few weeks, Ariana’s parents stayed in Kirkwall, their presence both comforting and surreal. Charles was relentless in his efforts, petitioning the White Spire with unwavering determination. His days were spent drafting letters and meeting with influential figures, leveraging every connection to challenge Meredith’s decree and expose her overreach. Elara, meanwhile, immersed herself in the wedding preparations. Her sharp edges seemed to have softened; she deferred to Ariana and Cullen’s wishes at every turn, determined that the event would reflect their vision, not her own ambitions.
For Cullen, the details of the wedding seemed inconsequential compared to the promise they had made to each other. Yet, he indulged Ariana’s newfound joy in planning with her mother. The moments spent discussing dinner menus or debating music were a welcome relief to the weight they had both been carrying for years. Watching Elara open up, particularly to Isabel, was unexpected but comforting. The two women, once opposites in every sense, now shared stories over tea, their laughter filling the halls in a way Ariana had never imagined possible.
Isabel regaled Elara with tales of Ariana’s childhood—scraped knees from climbing trees she wasn’t supposed to, or the time she had stolen away to watch a tournament, disguised as a page. These stories, met with Elara’s laughter and occasional tears, painted a portrait of a family Ariana had never fully believed could exist. For the first time, the fractures in their family seemed to mend, revealing something whole and unbroken beneath the surface.
Yet, amidst the newfound warmth, Ariana couldn’t shake the restlessness that lingered in her soul. She adored Cullen, loved him in a way that felt woven into her very being. But the life of Ariana Trevelyan—the noblewoman, the soon-to-be wife, the daughter of a prominent Free Marches family—felt distant and unfamiliar. She was certain, now more than ever, that the White Wolf was who she truly was. Who she was meant to be. Her heart tugged by every report, every mage saved, every successful operation, or whisper of injustice brought to her by the Silver Rangers.
Today, however, wasn’t about the White Wolf. It was Emma’s birthday—her sixth—and for the first time, they were hosting a proper party. The estate buzzed with life, the scent of sweet cakes and fresh bread wafting through the air as Isabel oversaw the preparations. Emma’s laughter echoed from the gardens, where Charles and Elara had organized a treasure hunt, their excitement mirrored by Cullen, who helped hide the clues.
Ariana lingered in the doorway, her arms crossed as she leaned against the frame. She watched Isabel’s deft movements in the kitchen, her parents’ playful joy with Emma, and the quiet happiness that seemed to settle over the house like a warm blanket. A soft smile tugged at her lips, yet beneath it lay a faint ache she couldn’t quite name—a longing for something more, or perhaps a mourning for what she was slowly leaving behind.
The sound of footsteps behind her brought her back to the present. Before she could turn, Cullen’s arms wrapped securely around her waist, his chin resting on her shoulder. His presence was grounding, a steady reminder of the life they were building together.
“Are you happy?” he asked softly, his voice tinged with hesitation.
Ariana chuckled, leaning back against him. “Of course,” she said, her voice light but sincere. “Why do you ask?”
Cullen hesitated, his gaze fixed on the lively scene before them. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I just want to be sure.”
Ariana turned her head slightly, her eyes meeting his. “Sure about what?”
He exhaled, the question heavy on his tongue. “Have you found who you are? Did you find what was missing?”
The question caught her off guard, and for a moment, the noise of the party seemed to fade. Her thoughts flashed to the conversation they had shared years ago, when she first began realizing she was losing herself. She forced a small smile, her voice steady but thoughtful.
“What I’ve found,” she said carefully, “is that maybe I was overthinking things. Maybe it’s never just one thing you find; maybe it’s about the journey.”
She turned fully in his arms, her hands resting on his chest as she searched his gaze. “Cullen, you are my life,” she said firmly, her thumb tracing slow, deliberate circles over his tunic. “And I’m not missing anything.”
The truth settled between them, fragile yet unshakable. Ariana felt the pull of the White Wolf, the endless call to protect and fight, but she also knew where her heart lay. If a choice ever had to be made, it would be Cullen. She could never walk away from him, not truly.
Cullen studied her for a long moment, as if trying to glimpse the depths of her soul. Slowly, he leaned down, his lips brushing hers in a kiss that spoke of unspoken promises and unwavering devotion. Ariana responded without hesitation, pouring every ounce of her love into the embrace.
For now, the warmth of the estate wrapped around them, shielding them from the chaos that loomed beyond its walls. But even as laughter and celebration filled the air, the undercurrent of tension was undeniable. Whispers traveled swiftly in Kirkwall’s shadows, plans unfolding far beyond their control.
Ariana didn’t see the storm brewing on the horizon, nor the challenges that would soon test everything they held dear. But in that moment, amidst the fleeting peace of their shared life, she held onto the hope that love and resilience could withstand even the fiercest trials.