28 Haring 9:40 – 14 Guardian 9:41
As Ariana stepped back into the tavern, the warmth and hum of conversation greeted her, a stark contrast to the chill of Val Royeaux’s evening air. Elliot and Eshara sat near the hearth, finishing their meal. Their presence brought a faint smile to her lips, though it did little to ease the weight she carried after her meeting with the Divine.
“Back already?” Eshara quipped, her tone light as Ariana approached. “Where’s the artifact?”
“There was no artifact,” Ariana replied, her words clipped but not unkind. “We’ll leave at dawn.”
Elliot raised an eyebrow, glancing at her cloak and boots, still dusted from her walk. “Didn’t even sit down yet and you’re already talking about leaving?”
Ariana exhaled, waving off his comment. “I’ll explain later. For now, get some rest. We’ve got a long trip ahead of us.”
Eshara frowned, her sharp eyes narrowing slightly. “That’s it? You drag us all the way to Val Royeaux, and now we’re just heading back without so much as a proper meal?”
Ariana smirked faintly, though the humor didn’t reach her eyes. “I’ll make it up to you. When we’re back, I’ll ask Isabel to prepare a feast—one to put every Orlesian banquet we’ve seen to shame.”
“That’s a high bar,” Eshara said dryly, though her lips twitched with a small grin. “We’ll hold you to it.”
Elliot chuckled softly. “Good. I’m starving, and Orlesian portions aren’t exactly… substantial.”
Ariana let out a genuine laugh at that, shaking her head. “Fine, fine. But for now, we’ll be back on the road for a while. So get your rest while you can.”
She didn’t linger to hear their grumbling; she slipped away to her room upstairs. As she leaned back against the door, the weight of her meeting with the Divine pressed down on her anew. Her fingers brushed the pendant at her neck, the familiar contours grounding her. But tonight, it didn’t bring the solace she needed. Instead, her thoughts wandered—to the Rangers, to the impossible task ahead, and inevitably, to Cullen.
Knight-Commander Cullen seems to be a good sort
The Divine’s words had been maddeningly calculated, she couldn’t help but wonder at her goal. Was it just to break through her anger, did she know that Cullen’s name would accomplish that? Aren’t you engaged to him? The phrasing of Justinia’s question had been deliberate. She knew it would distract her. And yet she couldn’t help but wonder… was she? Did he think about it the same way? Was Cullen going to be at the Conclave? As the Knight-Commander of Kirkwall was he expected there?
And now? she thought bitterly, Now I’m expected to risk everything again—for peace that may never come.
The journey back to Ferelden was long and uneventful, the familiar rhythm of travel offering little distraction from Ariana’s racing thoughts. She spent most of the time riding in silence, lost in her own thoughts. Her conversation with the Divine a constant companion. Eshara and Elliot had clearly noticed her mood, but they gave her space, knowing better than to press her when she wasn’t ready to talk.
Ariana broke the silence for the first time in hours. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice quiet but clear.
Eshara glanced over, one eyebrow arched. “For what?”
“For dragging you halfway across Thedas without telling you why,” Ariana replied. “And for making you spend the end of the year on the road instead of with the others.”
Elliot looked at her, his brow furrowed. “We’re Rangers. It’s what we do.”
“And it’s not like you could’ve known this job would take us back so quickly,” Eshara added with a shrug. “But if you really feel bad, we’ll take that feast when we get back.”
Ariana chuckled softly. “You’ll get your feast. I promise.”
As the evening wore on, and they settled down to rest for the night, Ariana found herself staring up at the sky a little away from the campfire. The stars were just beginning to peek through the twilight sky, and the chill in the air was sharper now than it had been in Val Royeaux. She wrapped her cloak tighter around her shoulders, her gaze fixed on the Visus constellation.
I’ll follow this star it one more time, Cullen. Please be there.
She had barely noticed Elliot approach until he cleared his throat softly behind her. “Wolf?”
Ariana turned, her expression softening slightly at the sight of him. “What is it, Elliot?”
He hesitated, glancing down before meeting her eyes. “You’ve seemed… off since Val Royeaux. I just wanted to make sure you’re alright.”
Ariana smiled faintly, her heart warming at his concern. “I’m fine, Elliot. Just… thinking. A lot.”
“About the job?” he asked tentatively.
She nodded, leaning against the tree behind her. “It’s a big one. More than I expected.”
Elliot studied her for a moment, then nodded. “Whatever it is, we’re with you. You know that, right?”
His earnestness caught her off guard, and for a moment, she didn’t know how to respond. Finally, she nodded, her voice soft. “I know. Thank you.”
Elliot lingered for a moment longer before giving her a small smile and retreating back to the campfire. Ariana stayed where she was sitting, the cold air biting at her skin as she turned her gaze back to the stars. She didn’t know how to tell them what lay ahead, but one thing was certain: the road to the Temple of Sacred Ashes would be unlike any she’d walked before.
~~~
By the time they arrived at the manor, the familiar sights and sounds of the Rangers at work greeted them. The courtyard bustled with activity—sparring pairs clashed swords, laughter echoed from a nearby group of recruits, and the scent of roasting meat wafted from the kitchens. It was a scene that should have felt like home, but Ariana’s mind was too clouded to take comfort in it.
Riley, standing at the edge of the courtyard with her arms crossed, immediately spotted them. Her sharp eyes swept over the trio, lingering on Ariana. “You look like someone dragged you through half of Orlais and back,” Riley called out, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. “The client give you trouble?”
Ariana dismounted, her movements slow with exhaustion. “Not the client,” she replied, brushing dust from her cloak. “But we need to talk. Somewhere private.”
Riley’s smirk faded, replaced by a more serious expression. She handed the reins of Ariana’s horse to a nearby recruit and fell into step beside her. “Let me guess—it’s trouble, isn’t it?”
“Always,” Ariana said, her voice carrying a dry humor that didn’t reach her eyes. She glanced back at Elliot and Eshara, who were already being swept into the lively courtyard. “Let them unwind,” she added softly to Riley. “We’ll catch up later.”
Riley nodded, her curiosity evident but unspoken. As they entered the manor, the sounds of the courtyard faded, replaced by the quiet warmth of the house.
Ariana led the way to the library, her steps deliberate yet heavy with the weight of what she was about to reveal. She had stopped first to find Isabel, who joined her without hesitation, her sharp eyes immediately sensing something serious. Riley followed closely, her boots echoing off the stone floors with impatient strides.
Once inside, Ariana closed the door with a deliberate click. The quiet of the library enveloped them, the faint scent of old parchment and polished wood grounding her in the moment. Riley dropped into one of the chairs, propping her boots on the edge of the table with her usual disregard for decorum. Isabel remained standing, arms crossed, her expression calm but wary.
“There was no client,” Ariana began, her voice steady though her shoulders were tense. “Or rather, not what you expected.”
Riley’s brow arched immediately, suspicion flickering in her sharp gaze. “Oh? So what was it? Some Orlesian noble whining about misplaced jewels?”
Ariana hesitated, the words she had practiced in her head suddenly feeling heavy and awkward. Finally, she said it: “It was the Divine.”
Riley’s boots hit the floor with a thud as she sat upright, her expression a mix of shock and exasperation. “Oh no. No, no, no!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands into the air. “Not doing this again, Wolf! I’m not cut out for being anyone’s spy, and neither are you.”
Isabel’s calm facade cracked slightly, her brow furrowing. “The Divine…” she repeated slowly, the name itself enough to deepen her concern. “What does she want this time?”
Ariana crossed her arms, leaning against the edge of the table. “There’s going to be a Divine Conclave. On 15 Guardian. The goal is to bring the mages and the Templars together to negotiate peace.”
Riley snorted, leaning back in her chair with an incredulous look. “Right. And I suppose we’re being recruited to, what, serve wine and keep the nobles from pulling each other’s hair?”
Ariana’s jaw tightened as she met Riley’s sarcastic gaze. “She wants the Rangers to act as a neutral force,” she said firmly. “To keep the peace and prevent violence.”
Riley’s expression froze mid-scoff. Isabel’s arms unfolded slightly, her sharp intake of breath betraying her alarm.
“You’re serious,” Riley said flatly, sitting forward. “She wants us to be… what? The Chantry’s watchdogs?”
“Not the Chantry,” Ariana corrected, her voice softening slightly. “A neutral presence. One that isn’t aligned with either side but has a reputation for standing for what’s right.”
Riley shook her head, her disbelief quickly morphing into frustration. “Maker’s breath, Wolf. Do you even hear yourself? This isn’t a neutral job. This is sticking our necks into a bear trap and hoping it doesn’t snap shut.”
Isabel, ever the voice of pragmatism, stepped forward, her expression calm but grave. “And what’s your role in this, Ariana? Because I know you wouldn’t be telling us this unless she’s asked something more of you.”
Ariana sighed, running a hand through her hair. “She asked me to stand by her side. To act as her personal guard during the Conclave.”
Riley exploded out of her chair, pacing the length of the room with a string of curses. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” she shouted. “This is madness, Wolf! Do you remember what happened the last time the Divine roped you into one of her plans? You lost everything!”
Ariana flinched slightly but kept her composure. “I haven’t forgotten,” she said quietly. “But this isn’t about the past. This is about trying to end the Mage-Templar War before it destroys Thedas.”
“And what if it destroys you instead?” Isabel interjected, her voice trembling slightly. “What about Emma? About all of us? If you do this—if this goes wrong—what happens to everything you’ve built?”
Ariana stepped closer to Isabel, placing a steadying hand on her shoulder. “I’m not asking anyone to follow me into this—not you, not Riley, not the Rangers. This is a volunteer mission. If no one steps forward, then we don’t go.”
Riley whirled around, her hands on her hips. “Oh, for the love of… Of course, I’m going with you!” she snapped. “You think I’m going to let you walk into the middle of that mess alone? Maker, Wolf, you really know how to pick the worst possible jobs.”
Ariana allowed a faint smile to break through her tension. “Thank you,” she said softly, her gratitude genuine.
Isabel sighed heavily, her composed mask slipping further. “If you’re going, we’ll prepare,” she said, her voice resigned but resolute. “But Ariana… if this fails, if this Conclave falls apart…” She didn’t finish, but the unspoken warning lingered heavily in the air.
“I know,” Ariana replied, her voice steady despite the turmoil roiling within her. “Believe me, I know.”
She straightened, her determination hardening into resolve. “Riley,” she said, turning to her, “start gathering the Rangers. Make it clear this is a volunteer mission. No one is to feel obligated. But we only have 35 days to prepare and get to Haven.”
Riley gave her a long, searching look before nodding. “I’ll handle it,” she said, though her tone carried a note of reluctant acceptance. “But don’t think I’m not going to grumble about it the whole way.”
“And supplies?” Isabel added, already mentally calculating what they would need. “If we’re calling in Rangers from across Thedas, we’ll need to ensure they’re properly equipped.”
“Order whatever we need,” Ariana said firmly. “Spare nothing. If this is our last stand for peace, we’re going to do it right.”
Isabel nodded, though her worry lingered in her gaze. “It will be done. But Ariana… don’t ask us to stand by and watch you break yourself again. If this goes wrong—”
“I’m sorry,” Ariana interrupted softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “If it all goes wrong, I’m sorry.”
Riley placed a firm hand on her shoulder, her grip steady and grounding. “We’re not there yet,” she said, her voice surprisingly gentle. “Let’s get through today first.”
The three of them stood in heavy silence, the enormity of what lay ahead pressing down on all of them. But for now, they had a plan. And, for now, that was enough.
~~~
The halls of the manor bustled with activity as the Rangers prepared for their most ambitious mission yet. The air was thick with purpose and tension, every corner filled with voices discussing strategies, packing supplies, or sharpening weapons. Just as the Divine had predicted, the Rangers were willing to follow Ariana into anything—even what could very well be certain death.
Nearly every Ranger called upon accepted the task without hesitation. Over a hundred had already gathered in Redcliffe, the quiet village now transformed into a staging ground for the Silver Rangers. More arrived daily, and another 150 remained scattered across Ferelden and Orlais, preparing to join the growing force. With only three weeks until the Conclave, the pressure mounted, but the Rangers worked with an unwavering resolve that only strengthened Ariana’s determination.
Isabel was a force of nature, coordinating supplies with the precision of a seasoned commander. Trade caravans arrived regularly, loaded with weapons, armor, provisions, and medical supplies. Every transaction bore the mark of Isabel’s sharp tongue and no-nonsense approach. Merchants quickly learned that any attempt to exploit the situation would not be tolerated.
Eshara oversaw the mages, training them in shield spells and non-lethal deterrents, ensuring they were prepared for a role that demanded restraint over power. Elliot and Riley worked together, drilling the newer recruits and ensuring their lines of communication were solid. Every Ranger needed to understand the plan inside and out—it wasn’t just their survival at stake, but the survival of what peace might still exist in Thedas.
Ariana, meanwhile, was consumed by the logistical nightmare of coordinating the Rangers for such a monumental task. She spent her days—and most of her nights—in the library, surrounded by maps and reports. Charts of Haven, the Temple of Sacred Ashes, and the Frostback Mountains sprawled across every surface, each annotated with her meticulous notes. Scouts came and went, memorizing routes and terrain. The plan had to be seamless, adaptable, and above all, decisive.
The Rangers would operate in three phases. Ariana would take no more than fifty to the Temple itself. Any more would risk projecting an image of aggression rather than peacekeeping. The rest would be positioned in concentric waves, spread out across the Frostbacks, ready to defend or intervene if necessary. Scouts would blend into the area early, monitoring the movements of both Templars and mages without being seen. Their presence had to remain a secret until the Conclave began.
Late one night, Ariana stood in the library, surrounded by the maps and plans she had spent days perfecting. Her brow furrowed in concentration as she traced potential patrol routes with her finger. The weight of responsibility pressed heavily on her shoulders. The wrong move, the wrong placement, could tip the balance and turn the Conclave into chaos.
The door creaked open, and Riley stepped inside, her boots clicking softly against the stone floor. She carried a folder in her hand, her expression unusually tense. “Wolf,” she said, her tone light but laced with unease, “you’re wearing a hole into that map.”
Ariana glanced up, startled out of her thoughts. “There’s no room for mistakes, Riley. Not this time.”
“There never is,” Riley replied with a faint smirk, moving closer to the table. “But if anyone can pull this off, it’s you. The Rangers believe in you, even if you don’t always believe in yourself.”
Ariana sighed, her gaze returning to the maps. “I hope that belief isn’t misplaced. This has to work, Riley. It has to.”
Riley set the folder down on the table, her smirk fading into a grim line. “Wolf, there’s something I need to tell you,” she said, her tone more serious now.
Ariana raised an eyebrow, her posture tensing. “What is it?”
Riley hesitated, clearly weighing her words. “It’s about Kirkwall. The Circle there… it’s fallen.”
Ariana froze, her hand still resting on the map. “What?” she said sharply, her voice tight with disbelief.
“It’s confirmed,” Riley said, her tone steady but heavy. “Reports say the Circle dissolved into chaos. Mages revolted. Templars retaliated. It was…” She shook her head. “It was a bloodbath.”
“When?” Ariana demanded, stepping closer to Riley, her voice rising.
Riley hesitated, and that hesitation was all Ariana needed to understand. “When, Riley?” she repeated, her tone sharper now, her anger barely restrained.
“About four months ago,” Riley admitted, her gaze dropping for a moment before meeting Ariana’s fiery eyes again. “I didn’t tell you before because I—”
“You didn’t tell me?” Ariana interrupted, her voice breaking with anger and disbelief. “Four months, Riley,” she said again, her voice cracking with anger and disbelief. “You didn’t think I deserved to know that the Circle—his Circle—fell? That everything he fought to hold together collapsed?”
Riley took a step back, her hands raised in defense. “Wolf, I wanted to tell you, but with everything going on, with the Conclave—”
“Don’t,” Ariana cut her off, pacing the room as her thoughts spiraled. “Four months ago we didn’t know about the Conclave. You should have told me. I could have… Maker, I could have done something!”
Riley’s expression hardened slightly. “And what would you have done, Wolf? Run off to Kirkwall and somehow fixed what’s been broken for years? You know as well as I do, there was nothing anyone could have done to stop that.”
Ariana stopped pacing and turned to Riley, her chest heaving with suppressed emotion. “What about Cullen?” she asked, her voice quieter now but no less intense. “Where is he?”
Riley sighed, shaking her head. “He’s missing, Wolf. No one knows where he is. Not the Templars, not the mages who survived. He disappeared.”
Ariana felt as though the ground had been ripped out from under her. Her fists clenched at her sides, her nails digging into her palms. “Missing?” she repeated, her voice shaking. “Or worse—lost in all of this chaos?”
Riley flinched at the word, but she didn’t avoid Ariana’s gaze. “We don’t know. There’s been no sign of him.”
The room fell into a tense silence as Ariana turned away, her shoulders stiff. Her thoughts were a chaotic storm, her mind racing through every possibility. She had held onto the hope—however small—that Cullen was still in Kirkwall, alive and well. That he would be at the Conclave. But now… now that hope was slipping through her fingers like sand.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Ariana said again, her voice quieter but no less anguished.
“We thought we were prote–”
Ariana interrupted before Riley could finish “‘We’? Who’s ‘we,’ Riley?” Ariana demanded, her voice cold and sharp, like the blade she always kept at her side. “You mean to tell me more of you thought it was a good idea to keep this from me?”
Riley opened her mouth to speak but hesitated.
“Get them in here, right now,” Ariana demanded, her voice sharp and commanding. “If this is how we handle things, I want to hear their reasons from their own mouths.”
Riley swallowed hard “By your order, Wolf.”
~~~
The room was a tense, suffocating silence as Ariana paced, her boots striking the wooden floor with deliberate force. The maps and plans spread across the table were momentarily forgotten, her sharp mind focused entirely on the betrayal she now had to confront. When the knock came at her door, she paused, her fists clenching at her sides.
“Enter,” she said, her voice cold, unwavering.
Riley stepped in first, followed by Linnea, Michael, and Valentina. The weight of Ariana’s glare seemed to make the room shrink around them. Riley took her place nearest the door, her usual composure slipping under the intensity of Ariana’s gaze. Michael looked hesitant, Linnea’s face was unreadable, and Valentina’s calm, diplomatic air felt like a fragile mask.
Ariana crossed her arms, her voice cutting through the silence like a blade. “So,” she began, her tone dangerously calm. “The four of you decided I didn’t need to know that the Circle in Kirkwall had fallen. That Cullen—” her voice cracked slightly, but she pressed on, “—is missing.”
“We didn’t want to burden you,” Valentina said carefully, her voice steady but tinged with unease. “With the Conclave approaching, you already had enough—”
“Stop” Ariana cut in, her tone rising. “You all keep talking to me about the Conclave we didn’t know about 4 months ago. So that’s not your excuse. You’ve barely had that excuse for a few weeks.” She gestured to the maps and plans spread around the room.
“We weren’t lying—” Linnea started, but Ariana’s sharp glare silenced her.
“Don’t,” Ariana snapped. “You chose to hide it. That’s worse. I would know.”
Michael, who had been silent until now, stepped forward. “Ari, it wasn’t just about you. It was about protecting everyone else, too. If you had known, you would’ve gone after him, and that would’ve left the Rangers without their leader.”
“And how exactly did you come to the conclusion that making that decision for me was acceptable?” Ariana shot back, her voice shaking with restrained fury. “What gives you the right to decide what I can or can’t handle?”
Michael opened his mouth, but before he could respond, Ariana’s voice dropped, colder than before. “You all need to understand something very clearly. I trust you with my life, but that trust is not infinite. For your sake, this better never happen again.”
Her words hung heavily in the air, and for a moment, no one spoke. Then, Michael cleared his throat, his eyes locking with hers. “There’s… something else,” he said hesitantly.
Ariana’s eyes narrowed. “What else?”
Linnea stepped forward quickly, her hand brushing Michael’s arm as if to stop him. “Michael, don’t—”
“Don’t what?” Ariana interjected, her anger reigniting. Her gaze shifted to Linnea, her voice sharp as a dagger. “You’ve been keeping more from me?”
Michael sighed, reaching into his coat and pulling out a weathered envelope. “This came from Bann Teagan around the time we heard about Kirkwall,” he said, his voice low. “It’s… from Cullen.”
Ariana’s breath caught, her fury momentarily replaced by shock. “What? You’ve hidden both of these for 4 months?”
Michael handed her the envelope, and as her trembling fingers unfolded the letter, Linnea spoke, her tone almost pleading. “We weren’t sure when—or if—we should give it to you. Cullen asked Bann Teagan to pass it along, but with everything happening…”
Ariana ignored her, her eyes scanning the letter inside. Cullen’s handwriting was unmistakable, his words precise and deliberate. But the weight of the second document beneath it—bearing the seal of the White Spire—made her chest tighten painfully.
As she read, her mind swam with disbelief. My purpose is not to pursue justice or duty—it is to find her, to ensure she is safe, and, if she allows it, to mend what has been broken between us. The second document was official—a marriage approval from the White Spire, dated almost two years ago.
“Did you read this?” she asked to no one specific, her tone still carrying an icy edge but about to break.
Valentina stepped forward “We did…”
Ariana held up the letter from Cullen again and read it aloud “‘If she chooses to ignore this, I will respect her wishes and will not press the matter further.‘” she paused for a moment closing her eyes and taking a deep breath.
Her voice trembled with rage as she folded the documents. “Get out,” she said, her tone deathly quiet.
“Wolf, we—” Riley started, but Ariana cut her off.
“Now,” she snapped, her voice like the crack of a whip. “I don’t want to see any of you until tomorrow. And you’d better hope this is the only thing you’ve hidden from me, because if it’s not… you’re going to remember what it was like to fail Krieger.” She let the threat linger, her eyes blazing.
Without another word, the four of them filed out of the room, their steps heavy with tension. The door closed softly behind them, leaving Ariana alone.
The moment the latch clicked, her composure shattered. She clutched the letter and the document tightly, her legs giving out as she sank to the floor. The words blurred through her tears, but their meaning cut deeply.
He was looking for me. He was going to fight for us. And now… it might be too late.
A broken sob escaped her, and she pressed the letter against her chest, holding it against the ring on her necklace. Her heart aching with a pain she hadn’t felt in years. The weight of her guilt threatened to crush her, but amidst the despair, a flicker of determination ignited.
You wouldn’t die that easily.
“I’ll find you, Cullen,” she whispered through her tears, her voice filled with raw emotion. “I’ll find you, no matter what.”
The quiet resolve in her words steadied her, even as the storm of emotions raged within.
~~~
The execution needed to be flawless. Every step, every movement had to be calculated. Ariana had over 250 Rangers at her disposal, and each of them had to blend into their roles seamlessly. The scouts, already dispatched to the Temple of Sacred Ashes and Haven, were tasked with gathering information and securing entry points. The rest of the Rangers—those who wouldn’t be stationed inside the Temple—needed to arrive after the Conclave had begun. By then, most eyes would be on the negotiations, making it easier for the Rangers to quietly take their positions without drawing attention.
Ariana’s plan hinged on precision and discretion. The fifty Rangers who would secure the Temple were carefully selected, a mix of Templars, mages, and rogues. The Templars, with their combat expertise and ability to counter mages, were crucial. Ariana had often bristled at the idea of working alongside them in the past, but the Templars who had defected to join the Rangers had proven themselves invaluable. Their presence gave her a strange comfort now—they could handle whatever might arise.
Riley and the Vanguard would command the main forces outside the Temple. They were to arrive later, ensuring the Rangers’ movements didn’t overwhelm the Conclave before it even started. Riley understood the stakes, and Ariana trusted her to handle the logistics outside the Temple while she focused on the critical moments within.
But even as the plans came together, Ariana couldn’t shake her unease. She stared at the maps sprawled across her desk, her eyes tracing the routes and placements over and over again, as if repetition could ease the weight pressing on her chest.
If Cullen were here, he’d have a dozen suggestions by now, she thought, the memory of their days going over his reports pulling her focus. She exhaled sharply, forcing the thought aside, but it lingered, an unwelcome ghost haunting the edges of her mind.
The report about Kirkwall had been days ago, but the ache it stirred in her hadn’t dulled. She had tried to bury herself in work, to lose herself in the endless tasks of preparing the Rangers. It hadn’t helped. The idea that Cullen had been looking for her and now might be dead—that she had wasted years waiting for a chance to see him—was a wound she couldn’t bring herself to confront fully.
Her hand drifted instinctively to the leather choker around her neck, her fingers brushing against the engagement ring that had hung there this whole time. She pulled it free, letting it dangle in front of her as the firelight flickered across its surface.
“You will be my wife, Ari. No one—not Meredith, not the Order—no one will come between us.”
It had been his promise to her—a future they never got to share. And now? Now it felt like a symbol of everything she had lost. The life they could have had. The man she might never see again.
She closed her eyes, the weight of her emotions threatening to overwhelm her. “You’re not dead,” she whispered fiercely, as if saying it aloud could will it into truth. “You can’t be.”
Her fingers trembled as she slid the ring off the chain and onto her finger. The familiar weight of it was comforting. A piece of herself she hadn’t realized was missing. If you’re out there, Cullen… I’ll find you. The silent vow settled into her chest, a spark of determination amid the chaos.
But not yet. She couldn’t. Not while the Conclave loomed ahead, the stakes too high to abandon. The war between mages and Templars had consumed Thedas, and this might be the only chance to stop it. She hated it—the constant choice between duty and the people she loved. But this was the path she had chosen, the one she had committed to when they set out to become the Silver Rangers.
She took a steadying breath, pushing her emotions aside. The Rangers needed her focus now, not her grief. After the Conclave, she promised herself. After this, I’ll go. No matter what.
A knock at the door broke her reverie, and she quickly tucked the ring under her glove before turning toward the sound. “Come in,” she called, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her.
It was Riley, as expected, holding a fresh stack of reports. “Wolf, I’ve got the last of the troop placements ready for review,” she said, stepping inside and setting the papers on the desk. Her sharp eyes immediately caught Ariana’s distant expression. “You alright?”
Ariana forced a faint smile, shaking her head. “Just tired,” she replied. “Too much to do, too little time.”
Riley nodded, though her concern didn’t fade entirely. “Well, don’t fall apart on me now. We’re almost there.”
“I won’t,” Ariana assured her, her voice firm. “Let’s finish this.”
As Riley began walking her through the placements, Ariana focused on the task at hand, burying her doubts and fears beneath the work. There would be time to grieve later. Time to hope. Time to find him—if he was still out there.
For now, there was only the Conclave. And Thedas needed her to succeed.
~~~
Her timing had been perfect. Ariana arrived in Haven the evening before the Conclave, her recognizable white fur cloak blending with the frosty surroundings. The cold stung her exposed skin, but she welcomed it—it kept her sharp, her mind focused. Her Rangers were still making their way through the Frostbacks, following the carefully laid plans she’d established. They wouldn’t arrive until the next day, but for now, Ariana was alone, which suited her purpose just fine.
Pulling her hood lower against the icy wind, she dismounted and made her way toward the small village. Haven’s quiet was deceptive, its simplicity masking the gravity of what was about to take place. She planned to quietly find the Divine’s quarters, ensuring every detail was finalized before the Rangers fully arrived. Her boots crunched against the packed snow, the sound almost too loud in the stillness.
She had just passed the makeshift tavern when a familiar voice shattered her focus.
“And there we were, walking through the hallways—vases floating, books flying from shelf to shelf, and ghosts running across the hallway…”
Ariana froze mid-step, her breath catching. Varric?
She turned toward the sound instinctively, her confusion mounting. Why was he here? Why now, of all times? Her mind raced with questions, but her body moved of its own accord, carrying her to the warm glow spilling from the tavern’s windows. Tugging her hood down to avoid drawing suspicion, she slipped inside.
The room was a mix of local villagers and travelers, and at its center sat Varric, as animated as ever, captivating the crowd with his storytelling. His hands moved with exaggerated flair, his voice rising and falling with practiced drama.
Ariana lingered in the doorway, the sight tugging at emotions she couldn’t quite name. It had been so long since she’d seen him, and she felt unexpected relief at the sight of her old friend, her mentor. But alongside it came the questions—why was he here? How had he come to Haven? Had he known she would be here?
As he reached the climax of his tale, she interrupted, her voice cutting through the room. “Tell them about the golem yet?”
Varric froze mid-sentence, his hand paused in mid-air. His head whipped toward the doorway, and for the briefest moment, his surprise was unmistakable. His sharp features softened when his gaze landed on her, and he recovered quickly, a slow smirk spreading across his face.
“Well, now you’ve gone and ruined the good part,” he said, though his voice carried an unmistakable warmth.
Ariana smirked, stepping inside as the onlookers exchanged curious glances. “You were too slow, Varric. Someone had to keep the story moving.”
The crowd chuckled, though their attention quickly shifted as he stood, brushing imaginary dust from his coat and crossed the room toward her. “Pup,” he greeted her softly, placing a hand on her back and steering her toward the door. His usual wit was absent, replaced by something far more subdued. “What are you doing here?”
She allowed him to guide her out of the tavern, the cold air biting at her face as the door swung shut behind them. “I’ll give you one guess,” she replied, her tone light but weary.
“Again?” Varric sighed, running a hand through his hair. “What does she want this time? Not a lot of shadows to play in up here. Come on, let’s find someplace quiet.” He motioned to a nearby house, clearly trying to steer her away from prying ears.
Ariana shook her head. “I need to talk to her first, Varric. I need to see her before I put everything in motion.” Her voice softened, almost pleading. “I’ll find you in a while?”
Varric frowned slightly, an expression so brief it might have been imagined, but his hesitation was palpable. “Are you sure?”
She tilted her head, studying him. “Are you okay?” she asked, catching the unusual tone in his voice.
He waved her off with a faint smirk. “Fine, pup. Just… be careful.” He pointed toward a house just past the tavern. “I’ll wait there. Don’t take too long.”
Ariana nodded, watching as he walked away, her heart heavy with unspoken questions. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for what lay ahead, and turned toward the Divine’s quarters.
One step at a time, she reminded herself as she set off toward the Divine’s quarters.
~~~
Pulling her hood back up and adjusting her mask, Ariana made her way to the Chantry. The frostbitten air stung her cheeks, though it did little to numb the ache in her chest. The weight of the Conclave pressed heavily on her, but even more so was the gnawing thought of Cullen—missing, possibly dead. She clung to the hope that it wasn’t true, that somehow he was still alive, even if the pain of his absence felt sharper than ever tonight.
The quiet of the village was broken only by the crunch of her boots against the frozen ground. As she reached the doors of the Chantry, a nervous-looking sister approached her, hesitating before speaking.
“Are you… you know?” the sister asked, her eyes darting nervously to the distinctive white fur cloak.
Ariana’s lips twitched, but the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I think so,” she replied, her voice softer than usual. “Is she waiting for me?”
The sister nodded quickly, her movements almost anxious. “She is. Please, follow me.”
Ariana stepped inside, the sudden warmth of the Chantry washing over her in stark contrast to the cold outside. The sister led her briskly through the main hall, their footsteps echoing softly in the stillness. They stopped at a heavy door, and the sister motioned for her to enter before retreating.
Pushing the door open, Ariana stepped inside. Divine Justinia stood near the center of modest room with a large table at it’s center, with a map and what appeared to be scattered reports. The Divine’s serene presence as commanding as ever. The flickering light from the torches cast long shadows across the walls.
“I’m here,” Ariana said simply, her voice betraying a hint of weariness.
“As I knew you would be,” Justinia replied, her tone calm, her expression as composed as always.
Ariana studied her for a moment, the Divine’s confidence brushing against the edge of her own doubts. “And the Rangers will arrive in waves, starting tomorrow,” Ariana continued. “We have a plan, and for all our sakes, I hope it works.”
The Divine gave a small, thoughtful nod. “As do I. The world hangs precariously, Lady Trevelyan. But I have faith in you—and in the Rangers.”
Ariana’s jaw tightened as she took a steadying breath. Faith, she thought. It felt like an empty word after everything that had happened in Kirkwall, after every failure and loss. Still, she forced herself to focus on the task at hand. “I know where I’m stationing my forces,” she said, her voice firm despite the storm swirling within her. “Where do you want me?”
Justinia’s gaze lingered on her, as though weighing the depth of the question. “By my side,” she said at last, her words deliberate. “Your presence is as much a symbol as it is a shield. I need those in attendance to see that the White Wolf stands for peace—not for the mages, not for the Templars, but for the hope of reconciliation.”
Ariana’s eyes flickered with a mix of skepticism and resolve. “By your side,” she repeated, her tone cool. “You realize that makes both of us walking targets.”
“Would you be here if you weren’t willing to bear that risk?” the Divine countered gently, a faint, knowing smile tugging at her lips.
Ariana let out a quiet huff, her smirk faint but fleeting. “Fair point.”
“The dais will give you a clear view of the proceedings,” Justinia continued. “Your Rangers will form a perimeter outside the Temple grounds, with scouts monitoring the surrounding area for any sign of unrest. But you, Ariana, are not just here as a soldier. You are here as a symbol of what is at stake if peace is lost.”
Ariana folded her arms, leaning slightly against the doorway. Her voice carried a dry edge as she quipped, “I suppose ‘no pressure’ isn’t part of the job description.”
The Divine’s expression softened, her voice steady and calm. “You have carried more than most would dare, child. And yet, you endure. I trust you will bear this burden as you have borne so many others.”
Ariana’s chest tightened, Justinia’s words cutting deeper than she expected. “Very well,” she said quietly, her resolve hardening despite the weight of it all. “I’ll stand with you. But if this goes south…” She didn’t finish the sentence; she didn’t have to.
“Then we will face it together,” Justinia said without hesitation.
Ariana gave a small nod and turned toward the door. The sweep of her cloak trailed behind her as she made her way out. Pausing briefly, she glanced back over her shoulder, her voice quieter now. “Let’s just hope it doesn’t come to that.”
And with that, she stepped out of the room, her mind heavy with the thought that if this truly was their last chance at peace, she would give it everything she had left to give.
~~~
The firelight flickered in the small room Varric had claimed for the night. The space was modest, the walls adorned with little more than shadows cast by the dancing flames. Varric sat in a chair, his feet up on the table, nursing a mug of ale as though it were the only thing keeping him warm in the mountain air.
The door creaked open, and Ariana stepped inside, pulling down her hood and mask. Her fur cloak trailed behind her as she shut the door, her expression guarded but tinged with weariness.
“Pup,” Varric greeted lightly, though his voice carried an edge of concern. “So, how’d the meeting go? Let me guess—she wants something ridiculous.”
Ariana moved toward the small hearth, holding her hands out to the warmth. “She wants peace,” she said, her voice quiet. “Or at least, she wants to pretend it’s possible.”
Varric’s brows furrowed. “And what part are you supposed to play in this little charade?”
“She wants the Rangers to act as peacekeepers during the Conclave,” Ariana explained, turning to face him. “And she wants me… by her side. As a figurehead, a deterrent. The White Wolf standing for peace.”
Varric let out a low whistle, setting his mug down. “That’s a big ask, pup. And you said yes, didn’t you?”
Ariana’s jaw tightened. “I did.”
“Why?” he pressed, leaning forward, his concern growing. “You know how this ends. Andraste’s ass, we were both there when the spark of this war was lit. Why throw yourself into the fire now?”
“Because we were both there, Varric,” Ariana shot back, her voice sharp with emotion. “We saw it happen. We fought to stop it, and we failed. If we’d done more—if we’d stopped Meredith or Orsino before it all fell apart—maybe this war wouldn’t be tearing Thedas apart right now.”
Varric’s expression softened, but the worry in his eyes remained. “Pup, what happened in Kirkwall… that wasn’t on you. Or me. That was a powder keg waiting for someone to strike a match.”
“And maybe we should’ve been the ones to snuff out the fuse before it got that far,” Ariana countered, her voice heavy with guilt. She took a deep breath, her gaze dropping to the floor. “This… this feels like a chance to make up for that. To do something that matters. If this Conclave fails, there won’t be another chance for peace in our lifetimes.”
Varric sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Ariana, you can’t take the weight of Thedas on your shoulders. You’re not the Maker, and you’re not responsible for the mess the Chantry and the Templar Order created.”
“Maybe not,” she said quietly, her voice trembling. “But I can’t walk away, Varric. Not now. Not when there’s a chance to stop this before it gets even worse.”
He studied her for a long moment, his frustration giving way to a weary understanding. “You’re impossible, you know that?” he said with a faint smirk, though the concern in his tone lingered. “But you wouldn’t be you if you didn’t throw yourself headfirst into the impossible.”
Ariana managed a faint smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Speaking of impossible, why are you here, Varric? You’re not exactly the mountain village type.”
Varric hesitated for a fraction of a second, though his response came smoothly enough. “Seeker Pentaghast dragged me here. I’m her ‘guest.’”
Her brow furrowed, suspicion flickering in her gaze. “Guest? You mean prisoner.”
He shrugged, his smirk returning. “Tomato, tomahto. She’s looking for Hawke.”
Ariana’s heart sank at the mention of her old friend. “Does she know where Hawke is?” she asked, her voice quiet but tense.
“Thankfully, no,” Varric replied, his tone casual, though she caught the flicker of something in his expression—relief, or perhaps guilt. “She thought I did. And if I did know, I wouldn’t tell her. Hawke’s better off staying far away from all this.”
Ariana’s shoulders slumped slightly, the weight of the Conclave and everything it represented pressing down on her. “It’s never simple, is it?” she murmured, half to herself.
“Not in this lifetime,” Varric replied, leaning back in his chair. “But for what it’s worth, pup, I hope this crazy plan of yours works. Just… promise me you’ll be careful. No heroics, alright?”
“I’ll try,” Ariana said, her voice soft but steady. “I should get some rest. Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”
Varric raised his mug in a mock toast. “Stay safe, pup. And if you see things going south, don’t wait—get the hell out of there.”
Ariana nodded, a ghost of a smile tugging at her lips. “You too, Varric,” she said quietly before slipping out into the cold night, her mind already racing with everything still left to do—and the faint, stubborn hope that Cullen might somehow be out there, alive. Or maybe… maybe he’s here.