5 – 13 Drakonis 9:41
The Hinterlands stretched endlessly before them, a patchwork of green fields marred by the scars of war. Finding Mother Giselle amidst the chaos had been unexpectedly straightforward; the cleric’s calm demeanor drew people to her like a beacon in a storm. Her voice carried a steady authority, her words sharp and deliberate as she spoke to the group.
“The Chantry clerics are ruled by fear,” Giselle had explained. “But fear is fragile. If the Herald can speak to them, show them she is not the monster they believe, it may be enough to sow doubt. That doubt is all you need to act.”
Cassandra had glanced at Ariana, standing a pace behind her, quiet but not withdrawn. The so-called Herald’s face remained unreadable, but Cassandra could see the faint tension in her brow, the way her hands flexed at her sides as though itching for action. Cassandra doubted Ariana feared the clerics themselves, but the weight of their expectations—of the Divine’s voice calling to her in the Temple—was undeniable.
Ariana’s role as a holy symbol was a mantle she had never asked for, and Cassandra suspected she bore it with more reluctance than fear. Yet she bears it all the same, Cassandra thought, a flicker of admiration softening her guarded view of the woman.
They began their journey back to Haven, but the cries of the Hinterlands’ people pulled them in every direction. Refugees huddled in tents, their eyes hollow with hunger and loss. Bandits roamed the roads unchecked, and frightened villagers clung to what little they had left. It was chaos, and Cassandra felt the sting of helplessness as each new plea for aid reached their ears.
“We can’t just walk away,” Ariana said, her voice cutting through the noise with quiet finality.
Cassandra nodded, no argument necessary. They were of one mind.
Moving from crisis to crisis, Cassandra found herself near the rear of the group, close enough to catch the murmur of conversation between Varric and Ariana. Their voices were a strange juxtaposition to the grim surroundings, their banter light and teasing.
“So we’re back to traipsing through the wilderness, Pup?” Varric teased. “Ready to camp out under the stars with me again?”
Ariana smirked, her voice laced with humor. “Feeling nostalgic already, Varric? I didn’t bring any spider traps. How are your boots doing?”
“They are beginning to wish I hadn’t said anything about the next great disaster,” Varric quipped, his grin as sharp as ever.
“That makes two of us. Pretty sure glowing marks weren’t part of the deal,” Ariana retorted, her tone dry.
Cassandra couldn’t help but interject, her curiosity piqued. “You’ve traveled together before?”
Ariana glanced over her shoulder, her smirk softening. “Varric and I? Oh, yes. We’ve faced everything from blood mages, slavers, possessed golems in haunted mansions, defended Kirkwall from mages and Templars… you name it, we’ve probably done it.”
Kirkwall. Cassandra’s steps faltered as her thoughts spiraled to the reports she’d studied. The devastation, the blood-soaked streets, the Chantry reduced to rubble—the catalyst of the mage-templar war. She turned to Ariana, her voice sharp with curiosity. “You were in Kirkwall? When the Chantry fell?”
Ariana’s expression cooled, her jaw tightening. “Yes,” she said evenly. “While Hawke and the others faced Meredith in the Gallows, my Rangers worked to evacuate mages and civilians from the city.”
Cassandra’s breath caught. Another thread in the tapestry of Kirkwall’s tragedy. “You fought in the Qunari uprising as well?”
Ariana’s gaze didn’t waver. “Fought, coordinated, nearly died—it was a busy day.” Her tone was light, but the weight behind her words was unmistakable.
Varric gave an approving nod. “She’s being modest. Ariana here practically saved the whole city while Hawke played hero in the Keep.”
Cassandra turned to Varric, her frustration clear. “You never mentioned this.”
Varric shrugged, unbothered by her tone. “You asked for Champion’s story, not hers.”
Ariana’s voice was calm but firm. “In so far as Kirkwall is concerned, the White Wolf needed to remain in the shadows. Not sure that matters anymore.”
Cassandra fell silent, her mind racing to piece together what she’d just learned. The woman walking beside her was far more than a reluctant Herald. The pieces were falling into place. Ariana was far more than that. She was a leader, a strategist, a survivor who had forged her path through the shadows of Thedas. She had faced horrors and battles, led people through chaos and ruin—and she carried it all without seeking recognition. The Champion of Kirkwall had not stood alone.
Perhaps, she thought, this was why the Divine had chosen her.
Perhaps this is exactly what Thedas needs.
~~~
Cassandra adjusted her seat near the campfire, her gaze drawn to the quiet figure across from her. Ariana sat lost in thought, her fingers absently tracing the pendant resting against her chest. The etched star caught the firelight, and Cassandra’s curiosity stirred.
“Is that Visus?” Cassandra asked, her voice gentle but firm enough to pull Ariana from her reverie.
Ariana blinked, her hand pausing on the pendant. She glanced down, her lips curving into a faint smile. “It is. Varric gave it to me when I left for Ferelden. Said it was meant to guide my path—like the blinking star did once.”
Cassandra tilted her head slightly. “Blinking star?”
Ariana chuckled softly, a note of nostalgia in her voice. “Tell me, Seeker—how much do you actually know about me?”
Cassandra considered the question, her answer measured. “You are the youngest daughter of Bann Trevelyan of Ostwick. A noblewoman with courtly training, though you seem to have forsaken that life.”
“That’s the polite version,” Ariana said with a quiet laugh. “But I suppose the Divine knew the truth—that I was the rebellious, runaway daughter of Bann Trevelyan.”
Cassandra’s eyebrows lifted. “Runaway?”
Ariana leaned forward, the firelight casting shadows across her face. “It was Summerday, 9:29. My mother announced my engagement to my best friend, the Duke of Markham’s son. I was sixteen.” Her voice grew softer, tinged with both humor and regret. “That night, I looked to the sky, desperate for an answer. And then, a star in the Visus constellation blinked, once, twice—like it was telling me to run. So, I did.”
Cassandra listened, her stern demeanor softening as Ariana recounted her journey: her escape to Kirkwall, the chaos of the Blight, and her chance meeting with Cullen. Each piece of the tale felt heavier than the last.
“You survived the Blight alone? At seventeen?” Cassandra asked, incredulous.
“Mostly alone,” Ariana said, a wry smile tugging at her lips. “Some mercenaries found me before I became darkspawn bait.”
“And… you met Commander Cullen at Kinloch Hold?”
Ariana nodded, her tone more guarded now. “I did. He thought I was a runaway mage at first. Can’t blame him—I looked suspicious enough to earn his attention.”
Cassandra’s eyes narrowed slightly, her instincts picking up on the subtle shift in Ariana’s tone. “You’ve known him for years, then.”
Ariana hesitated, her fingers brushing the pendant again. “Yes,” she admitted simply. “We’ve known each other a long time.” Her voice was light, but Cassandra didn’t miss the quiet depth behind the words.
Cassandra’s mind whirred, processing Ariana’s words and the subtle shifts in her tone. The way she spoke of Cullen, her voice steady but laden with unspoken weight—it was familiar. Too familiar. Cassandra had seen that kind of restraint before, in soldiers speaking of those they’d lost, in nobles discussing forbidden loves, and in Cullen himself when he’d first joined the Inquisition.
Cullen had always been steadfast, resolute in his duties. But Cassandra, ever thorough, had looked into him before recruiting him. She knew of the formal request to marry he’d submitted during his time in Kirkwall. The name of his intended hadn’t been included in the scant records she’d been able to find, and at the time, she hadn’t thought much of it. The engagement was said to have ended without fanfare, a casualty of the chaos that engulfed the city.
But now… now she couldn’t shake the feeling that the missing piece of that puzzle was sitting right in front of her, the flicker of firelight reflecting off the Visus pendant Ariana absently toyed with. Cassandra’s sharp mind began connecting the dots. The rumors of a Knight-Captain in Kirkwall engaged to a noblewoman, the whispers that had circulated in the Gallows of a love story amidst the city’s strife.
“You’ve followed this star for years,” Cassandra said, her voice quieter now. “It has led you here.”
Ariana shrugged, her hand lowering from the pendant. As she did, the firelight glinted off something else—something Cassandra hadn’t noticed before. A ring.
The sight of it gave Cassandra pause. It was simple yet elegant, its design unmistakably deliberate. Ariana’s fingers brushed over it absently as she spoke, her words almost lost to the Seeker as her mind began piecing together the significance.
Her breath caught as realization dawned. Ariana was the woman Cullen had intended to marry.
Cassandra’s grip on her knee tightened as the realization settled over her like a heavy cloak. Ariana wasn’t just another figure from Cullen’s past—she was the figure. The woman who had shared his life in Kirkwall, the one he had intended to marry. The one who, even now, seemed to hold his gaze a fraction longer than necessary during meetings, whose presence seemed to steady him in a way few others could.
Cullen’s actions made sense now, as did Ariana’s. They were intertwined, their lives converging again at this critical moment in Thedas’ history. And if Cassandra was right, their bond could either strengthen the Inquisition—or become its undoing if left unaddressed.
Ariana’s gaze flickered toward her, the faintest shadow of doubt in her eyes. “Do you think it means anything?” she asked softly. “Or am I just chasing stars?”
Cassandra’s expression softened, her voice steady. “Does it matter? It has brought you to where you are needed. Sometimes, that is enough.”
They sat in silence, the crackling fire their only companion. Cassandra watched her, a quiet respect blooming in her heart. Whether by fate, faith, or sheer will, Ariana was here. And perhaps, Cassandra thought, that was the Divine’s plan all along.
~~~
Scout Harding had reported that Cullen had tasked her with finding and recruiting Redcliffe’s retired horsemaster. However, due to the fighting, she hadn’t been able to reach him. Ariana had volunteered to make her way there instead, reasoning they were already helping people in the area.
Horses for the Inquisition, huh? Ariana couldn’t help but smile, at the confirmation of how thin his excuse to talk to her had been. She wondered if he truly didn’t think she wouldn’t find out from Harding. But then that made her wonder, what had he truly wanted to say to her?
The journey to Master Dennet had been anything but smooth. Rifts spewed demons onto the roads, possessed wolves prowled the forests, bandits roamed unchecked, and rogue mages clashed violently with Templars. Ariana noted with grim frustration how much the region had deteriorated. The Hinterlands had always been unstable, but this… this felt different. It gnawed at her. Had all those years spent stabilizing Ferelden truly accomplished nothing? The thought lingered, heavy and unwelcome. Was it always this fragile? Just waiting to crumble the moment we weren’t here?
Master Dennet, thankfully, was reasonable. He readily agreed to provide horses for the Inquisition but requested they secure the roads between Redcliffe Farms and Haven first. His reasoning was sound—ensuring the horses wouldn’t fall into the wrong hands. Ariana found the request perfectly reasonable and made a mental note to bring it to the Inquisition’s leaders for discussion.
Still, as they left the farm, the weight of the Hinterlands’ plight hung over her. They had done what they could, but it wasn’t enough. These people deserved better, and Ariana resolved to rally both Rangers and Inquisition forces upon her return. The Hinterlands needed more than patchwork solutions—it needed lasting stability.
During their journey back, something unexpected caught her eye: a strange artifact gleaming faintly in the sunlight. Intrigued, Ariana approached it. An Astrarium. She recognized the intricate mechanisms, unmistakably Tevinter in origin, and her breath caught in awe. She had read about them but had never seen a working one before.
She ran her fingers lightly over the artifact, marveling at the craftsmanship. The puzzle-like structure was fascinating, the kind of challenge she would have loved to lose herself in—if not for the ever-present danger of the Hinterlands.
Maker… I wish Cullen were here.
The thought came unbidden, pulling her back into memories of their shared explorations. He had always indulged her fascination with ruins, patiently listening to her musings or joining her in solving puzzles. She had often teased him that his interest lay less in the ruins and more in spending time with her. Even now, she suspected that might have been true. The warmth of the memory tugged at her heart.
She shook her head, trying to refocus, but the thought lingered. She would give anything to explore ancient ruins with him again, to feel the quiet ease of their shared curiosity. Her thoughts drifted further, to the life she had once dreamed of—a life where they returned to her manor together. Where he became part of the Rangers, part of her world. Days spent traveling side by side, nights spent in quiet companionship.
But reality intruded. Would he even want that now? She bit her lip, her fingers brushing over the Astrarium’s surface absently. It was never a life they had spoken of, she had never been able to tell him of her fantasy. Too many secrets. She had no idea if it was something he wanted—if it was something he could want. But then again, he had now left the Templar Order so maybe… maybe that fantasy wasn’t so distant, so unlikely.
Her mind returned to the moment he’d come after her, clearly wanting to ask something. She had caught his gaze flicking towards her necklace, as if looking for something. Had he been looking for the ring? Could he have wanted to ask her something else? Maybe the same question he had asked her years ago when he gave her this ring.
The truth clawed at her. She still wanted that life, still wanted him. But the weight of her failures pressed down, and she couldn’t help but wonder if she deserved it anymore. She exhaled sharply, trying to push the thoughts aside as the Astrarium gleamed faintly in the sunlight.
~~~
Cullen stood at the edge of the training yard, his gaze drifting past the recruits sparring before him. He barked the occasional correction—“Wider stance! Watch your footing!”—but the weight behind his words felt hollow. His mind was elsewhere, tangled in the memory of Ariana’s expression before she left.
Anything for you.
She’d teased him, her voice light and playful, but there had been something vulnerable in her eyes. Is she wearing it again? He’d caught himself glancing at her hands, searching for the answer. If she is… what is she trying to tell me? The thought was a dangerous thread to pull, yet it unraveled him all the same.
“Commander…” Isabel’s voice broke through his haze, her tone both sharp and concerned. “Is everything alright?”
Cullen turned sharply, startled to find her beside him, arms crossed and a brow raised. He cleared his throat, forcing his focus back to the present. “Isabel. Yes, of course. Why do you ask?”
She didn’t answer immediately, just gave him a pointed look—the kind that cut through pretense.
Cullen sighed, his shoulders sagging under the weight of unspoken words. “She’s not sleeping, is she?” he asked quietly.
“No,” Isabel admitted, her voice softening. “She carries too much guilt—for Kirkwall, the Conclave, the mage-templar war… and probably for what happened between the two of you.”
Cullen’s jaw tightened, a flicker of frustration crossing his face. “She shouldn’t be carrying that. I never gave her a chance to tell me the truth. It’s my fault.”
“Partly,” Isabel said, her tone even. “But it’s not all on you. She’s just as stubborn as you are, Cullen. You both made mistakes.”
He exhaled slowly, running a gloved hand through his hair. “I don’t know how to reach her anymore. She trusted me once. Now… I’m not so sure.”
Isabel’s gaze softened. “I’m certain you’re still the only one that can reach her,” she said, not as a question but a statement.
Cullen’s eyes snapped to Isabel, surprised by her statement.
She gave him a knowing smile. “I saw you the other night. You’re the only reason she was able to let go of any of the guilt at all.” she paused catching his gaze “You still love her?”
Cullen’s breath caught, and he looked away, his voice quieter. “More than anything.”
“Then tell her,” Isabel said simply, her green eyes steady on his. “She still loves you, Cullen. That hasn’t changed.”
He hesitated, the weight of her words pressing down on him. “I’m not sure I have the right to. After everything…” His voice trailed off, his gaze fixed on the ground.
Isabel smiled faintly, her tone lightening just enough to soften the blow. “That’s not how love works, Commander. You don’t lose the right to it. You’ve both been through more than most, but you’re still standing. She needs you. She’s just waiting for you to tell her.”
Cullen’s chest tightened as the truth of her words settled over him. “The day I found her after the Conclave,” he said, almost to himself, “she was wearing her ring. I noticed… but I didn’t ask. Then she took it off and now it’s gone from her necklace, and I don’t know what that means.”
Isabel’s eyebrows rose slightly in surprise, but her expression quickly softened into something more knowing. “It means she’s still figuring things out,” she said. “But if she’s wearing it again, that’s not something you should ignore.”
Cullen’s throat tightened, his gloved hands flexing at his sides. “What if it’s too late?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Isabel stepped closer, resting a hand on his shoulder. “It’s only too late if you let it be,” she said firmly. “Stop overthinking it, Cullen. She’s waiting for you to take that leap.”
She held his gaze for a moment before stepping back, her voice softening again. “Don’t make her wait too long.”
As she walked away, Cullen remained rooted to the spot, her words echoing in the crisp morning air. He didn’t know what he would say to Ariana—only that he couldn’t keep waiting.
If there’s still a chance, he thought, I have to take it.
The recruits’ shouts rang out across the yard, but Cullen barely heard them. His gaze lingered on the horizon, his mind racing with thoughts of her, and for the first time in years, he felt something close to hope.
~~~
When they arrived in Haven, Mother Giselle’s message had already reached the Inquisition’s leaders. Cassandra walked briskly toward the Chantry, her mind preoccupied with the tense atmosphere of their return. As they entered, voices carried through the hall, sharp and overlapping—a heated discussion underway at the war table.
“Having the Herald address the clerics is not a terrible idea,” Josephine said, though her usually confident tone wavered.
“It’s reckless,” Cullen countered, his frustration unmistakable. “You can’t seriously believe this is a good idea.”
“Mother Giselle isn’t wrong,” Josephine pressed, her voice steadying as she met Cullen’s glare. “Right now, the Chantry’s greatest strength is their unified condemnation of us. Sowing doubt among them could be the opportunity we need.”
“And what happens if it fails?” Cullen retorted. “If the Herald goes into that den of vipers and it backfires, we risk everything. We cannot afford to lose her.”
Leliana, her arms crossed, nodded sharply. “For once, I find myself in agreement with the Commander. This isn’t a risk we should take.”
Cassandra felt her jaw tighten as she approached. The arguments were valid, yet the tension threatened to unravel the fragile unity they so desperately needed. Her eyes flicked to Ariana, who leaned against the doorway, watching the exchange in silence, her expression unreadable.
Finally, Ariana stepped forward, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her voice cut through the room like a blade. “Are you all quite finished? Or have you forgotten that I’m standing right here?”
The room fell silent, startled by her sudden interjection. Cassandra watched as Ariana’s sharp gaze swept over the gathered leaders, her words commanding attention without effort.
“I’ll address the clerics,” Ariana continued, her tone steady, unyielding. “What’s the worst that could happen—they talk me to death?”
Leliana’s gaze hardened, her voice carrying an edge. “Do not underestimate the power of their words, Herald. Words can spark an angry mob, and an angry mob can kill you just as swiftly as a blade.”
Ariana’s brows lifted slightly, frustration flickering across her face. “I’ve faced rampaging Qunari, fought through hordes of demons, and survived Kirkwall. An angry mob isn’t high on my list of concerns.”
“It should be,” Cullen snapped, his voice clipped with exasperation. “This isn’t a battlefield where you can fight your way out, Herald. We can’t afford to lose you—not to them, not now.”
Cassandra’s attention shifted to Cullen. His worry was palpable, his words less about strategy and more about Ariana herself. The subtle tension between them didn’t escape her notice.
“And what’s the alternative?” Ariana shot back, her voice rising slightly. “Sit here and wait for the Chantry to declare open war on us? Hope the Breach will close itself? This is the only way forward, and we all know it.”
Cassandra took a step forward, her voice firm. “She’s right. We have no other options. We cannot approach the mages or Templars until the Chantry’s grip weakens. The clerics may be dangerous, but so is doing nothing.”
Leliana exhaled sharply, crossing her arms tighter but remaining silent. Cullen, though visibly reluctant, said nothing more, his frustration evident in the tension of his jaw.
Ariana’s gaze swept over them once more, her expression resolute. “We leave in the morning,” she said decisively, leaving no room for argument. Turning toward the door, she paused, glancing over her shoulder. “Oh, and while I’m gone, maybe try to agree on something for once. It might make all of this a little easier.”
The door closed behind her with a soft but deliberate click, leaving the room in silence.
Cassandra glanced around the table, her frown deepening. “Did she just give us… orders?”
Josephine’s lips curved into a faint, knowing smile. “It would appear so.”
Cullen leaned back slightly, letting out a low chuckle. “She has a way of taking command, doesn’t she? Almost without trying.”
Leliana, still watching the door Ariana had exited through, allowed the faintest trace of amusement to touch her voice. “It would seem she does. Perhaps she was always meant for this.”
Cassandra’s gaze lingered on the war table, though her thoughts drifted. She thought back to the Hinterlands, to the story Ariana had shared about the Visus constellation. A rebellious runaway girl, guided by a blinking star, now stood at the center of a conflict that could determine the fate of Thedas.
Her eyes flicked to Cullen, still watching the door Ariana had exited through. His concern for her was plain, almost too plain, and it left Cassandra uneasy. Would he be able to keep his focus, knowing how much Ariana meant to him? Could he lead without letting that bond compromise his judgment?
And yet, the way Ariana carried herself—the way she had silenced the room with a few sharp words—was undeniable. She wasn’t just defiant; she was resolute, unyielding even in the face of dissent. She commanded attention without effort, drawing people together despite their differences.
Cassandra’s frown softened into something more contemplative. The Herald of Andraste. The White Wolf. The youngest daughter of Bann Trevelyan.
Perhaps she was meant to be their Inquisitor.
~~~
Ariana ran into Michael outside the Chantry just as he finished directing a group of scouts. He handed her a stack of reports from Linnea, his expression somber. “The roads between Haven and the Temple are clear,” he reported. “We’ve driven out the remaining demons—at least as best we can tell—but Linnea says we should remain vigilant.”
Ariana nodded, flipping through the reports briefly before tucking them under her arm. “Good. I’ll review these soon. Keep coordinating with Linnea on patrol rotations.”
Michael inclined his head, then hesitated. “Are you all right?” he asked softly, his concern evident.
“I’m fine, Michael,” she replied with a faint smile. “Thank you.”
He still seemed unconvinced but didn’t press further. “I’ll check back in later,” he said finally, his tone reluctant as he stepped away.
Ariana watched him go, a flicker of gratitude in her chest. Michael had proven himself time and again, his quiet determination a comfort in the chaos. She let out a soft sigh and turned just as the Chantry doors opened, Cullen stepping out. Their eyes met, and the warmth that spread through her at the sight of him took her by surprise.
“Commander,” she called. “Just the person I needed. Walk with me?”
Cullen nodded without hesitation, falling into step beside her as they descended the Chantry steps and made their way toward the heart of Haven. Ariana glanced around, her sharp eyes scanning the small bustle of activity.
“Have you seen Riley and Isabel today?” she asked casually.
“Not since this morning,” Cullen replied, his tone tinged with curiosity. “Why? Is something amiss?”
“Not at all.” Her smile softened, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I just need Riley’s agreement on something. And Malcolm’s, though he’ll likely go along with whatever I tell him.”
Cullen tilted his head slightly. “Malcolm?”
Ariana paused, realizing he probably didn’t recognize the name. “One of the Vanguard,” she explained, a hint of pride slipping into her voice. “The original fifteen Rangers. You’ve met some of them already—Riley, Valentina, Lamberto, Linnea. Though I imagine Riley’s the only one you’d remember. Or maybe you remember Valentina? I heard she left quite an impression during the Qunari uprising.”
Cullen chuckled softly, the sound surprisingly warm. “Valentina, yes. I remember her. At the docks in Kirkwall, she stepped in before I could even get close to the White Wolf. She told me, ‘The Wolf doesn’t meet just anyone.’” He shook his head, an ironic smile tugging at his lips. “And during the Qunari uprising, when she helped save our position, she said, ‘We saved your position. Perhaps you should focus on keeping it.’”
Ariana laughed despite herself, a fondness in her tone. “That sounds like Valentina. She always did have a way of cutting to the point.”
Cullen’s expression turned more serious. “I didn’t appreciate what you’d built then,” he admitted quietly. “Or the good your Rangers were doing. I was too blinded by… everything else.” He met her gaze. “I was wrong.”
The sincerity in his voice caught Ariana off guard, and she felt a pang of guilt. “You weren’t wrong about everything,” she said softly, trying to ease his regret. “The Rangers weren’t perfect. And I… I wasn’t honest with you. That’s on me.”
Cullen’s brow furrowed slightly, but he didn’t press the point. Instead, he nodded, as if acknowledging the shared weight of their past mistakes.
Without thinking, Ariana reached for his hand to guide him, and he instinctively gave it. The familiar motion caught both of them by surprise, but neither pulled away. Instead, they continued walking in companionable silence, their fingers brushing but not quite entwined. By the time they reached Flissa’s Tavern, the moment had settled into something unspoken yet strangely natural.
Riley and Isabel stood near the tavern entrance, their conversation pausing as the pair approached. Riley’s sharp green eyes immediately flicked to Ariana’s hand, still loosely holding Cullen’s. She arched an eyebrow, her expression teetering between curiosity and amusement.
“Something you want to tell me, Wolf?” Riley asked, her tone light but pointed.
Ariana ignored the question entirely, letting go of Cullen’s hand as she gestured to a nearby table. “We’ve got work to do. Sit, please.”
Riley’s amusement shifted to the familiar professional calm Ariana knew so well. She leaned forward slightly, her tone steady. “What do you need, Wolf?”
Ariana straightened, her posture taking on an easy authority. “Regarding your horses, Commander: Master Dennet has agreed to supply them to the Inquisition, but he wants the roads secured first. I think we should deploy Rangers to handle the bandits, rogue mages, and Templars making trouble in the Hinterlands.”
Riley nodded, her mind already working through logistics. “How many do you want sent out?”
“As many as the Commander can spare,” Ariana replied, glancing briefly at Cullen. “But I’d like Malcolm and his squads to take the lead. The people out there are in desperate need of help. And who knows, maybe Malcolm can win over some of the Templars. Maybe send Michael as well. Between the two of them maybe we could minimize losses and bolster our forces while we’re at it. Once they’ve cleared the roads, they can return to the manor to regroup and use as a staging ground.”
Cullen’s brow furrowed. “Manor?”
Ariana blinked, realizing once again how much of her life he didn’t know. “Yes. Years ago, I was looking for something more permanent for the Rangers. Bann Teagan, I guess Arl now, told me about a property abandoned during the Blight. I bought it—just outside Redcliffe. It’s defensible, spacious. I think we can use it as an outpost for soldiers and Rangers alike.”
Cullen’s surprise was evident, but it gave way to something subtler—an appreciation for how organized and deliberate the Rangers seemed to be.
Ariana’s gaze swept across the table, her voice steady but softer. “We’re not just clearing roads. Make sure they understand this is about helping people—securing supplies, finding lost loved ones. They need us. We did what we could while we were there, but it wasn’t enough.”
Riley nodded again. “I’ll get Malcolm and the others on it. We’ll leave before sunrise.”
Ariana turned to Cullen. “Do you have any objections or concerns, Commander? You know better what the Inquisition might need.”
Cullen, who had been listening intently, shook his head. “I can spare a few soldiers to bolster your forces. Securing the horses is a priority for us as well. Unfortunately, we don’t have enough soldiers to meet all of Dennet’s requirements alone.”
“Then it’s settled.” Ariana allowed herself a small smile. Planning like this with Cullen felt unexpectedly natural—an echo of the ease they once shared.
Isabel tapped her fingers thoughtfully on the table. “And the supplies? Haven’s already stretched thin.”
Ariana smirked. “Start pressing our favorite Orlesian nobles. They’re always hiding coin somewhere—just don’t promise me to any balls.”
Cullen chuckled softly, glancing at Ariana’s annoyance already.
Riley offered a mock salute. “By your order, Wolf. Anything else?”
Ariana hesitated, her voice softening. “Send word to the families of the fallen. Let them know we haven’t forgotten.”
Riley’s teasing demeanor gave way to something more solemn. “We’ll handle it.”
Isabel stood, brushing her hands over her skirts. “We’ll get to work.”
Cullen watched the two women leave, then turned back to Ariana. “You’ve built something remarkable.”
Ariana looked at him, a sense of relief washing over her. Her sharp edges momentarily softened by his words. “It’s not just me. It never has been.”
“So… Redcliffe?” Cullen asked tentatively. “That’s where you’ve been these past few years?”
Ariana’s looked at him. There was a flicker of something in his question—pain, perhaps? Regret? “I…Yes. The manor is about a half day’s ride from the village.”
For a moment, silence hung between them, laden with unspoken thoughts. He had been looking for her. She wasn’t hiding, but she realized now he wouldn’t have known where to start. The thought lingered, bittersweet.
“I’m sorry,” Ariana said as her gaze dropped to the table “I never meant to hide from you. I just… went home. I guess I didn’t realize…” her words trailed off as she thought through it all. She meant it. She hadn’t been hiding, but it hadn’t occurred that she had never told Cullen anything about her life in Ferelden.
Cullen leaned forward slightly, his voice gentle but firm. “Ariana, you don’t need to explain. I understand why you couldn’t tell me then.”
She looked up at him, her hazel-green eyes filled with both relief and sorrow. “Do you?” she asked softly. “Because I should have told you. About the Rangers, about everything. You were always honest with me, but I—”
“It’s all right,” Cullen interrupted, his tone reassuring. “You don’t need to carry that guilt. You were protecting people, Ari. That’s who you are.” His hand moved slightly, as though he wanted to reach for hers but thought better of it.
The warmth in his words soothed the edges of her guilt, but a flicker of uncertainty remained. “I wasn’t hiding from you,” she said quietly, needing him to believe it. “Not then, and not now.”
Cullen held her gaze for a long moment before nodding. “I believe you,” he said softly.
Ariana hesitated, then spoke softly. “You should come see it one day,” she said, her voice quieter than before. The invitation hung in the air, vulnerable and uncertain, and her fingers fidgeted slightly on the table as she waited for his response.
Cullen’s eyes flicked to hers, his lips parting as though to speak, but he hesitated. “I… I’d like that,” he said finally, his voice low, almost cautious.
Ariana’s gaze lingered on him, searching his face. The way he spoke—like someone treading carefully over unstable ground—made her chest tighten. Did he think she would take it back? Or was he just as unsure as she was of where they stood?
Her voice softened. “It’s not grand, I suppose, but it’s home.” She glanced down, her thumb brushing over her ring. “I’ve always thought you’d like it there.”
Cullen’s posture shifted, his shoulders relaxing just slightly, though his hand tightened on the table. “It sounds… peaceful,” he said, a faint warmth coloring his tone.
Would he want this? Could he want that life? Her heart ached at the thought. But his words, his tone—they weren’t dismissive. If anything, they carried the same weight of hesitation she felt. Maybe… maybe her dream wasn’t that impossible.
Ariana let out a breath, forcing a wry smile. “What do you say to another round?”
~~~
As they left the tavern, their steps carried them aimlessly through Haven, the crisp night air brushing against their faces. Snow crunched beneath their boots, but Cullen barely registered the cold. His focus lingered on her—Ariana, walking beside him with quiet confidence, her head tilted slightly as if lost in thought. There was a warmth to this moment, fragile and fleeting, yet it steadied him.
The Ariana he’d known in Kirkwall had always been sharp-witted, determined, and guarded, but he had glimpsed her vulnerabilities—the unspoken fears, the quiet dreams she rarely shared. Tonight, those layers seemed more intertwined, the White Wolf and the woman he had loved becoming one.
She’s waiting for you to take the leap. Isabel’s words echoed in his mind, cutting through his usual calm. But could he? The weight of their past mistakes hung between them, unresolved.
“I almost forgot,” Ariana said suddenly, her voice breaking the stillness. There was a lightness to her tone, playful and free. “You’ll never guess what I found in the Hinterlands.”
Cullen tilted his head slightly, his lips curving into a faint smile. “Ruins, I’d wager,” he said, his voice teasing.
Ariana stopped mid-step, her brow quirking in mock suspicion. “Did Solas tell you?”
He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “I don’t need Solas to tell me. You’ve always had a knack for stumbling upon ancient puzzles.”
She laughed, the sound warm and unguarded. “Fine,” she relented, resuming their pace.
“Are you going to tell me, or should I guess?” he asked.
Her eyes lit up, her enthusiasm spilling over. “A working Astrarium! Can you believe it? It’s intact and seems to point to something bigger.”
Cullen felt a flicker of intrigue. “And you didn’t solve it?”
She sighed dramatically, her breath visible in the cold air. “People to save, demons to fight… the usual distractions.”
“Ah, such mundane tasks,” Cullen said lightly, earning a smirk from her. “I’d hate to think you were neglecting your ruins.”
“I’ll drag you along next time,” she teased, her eyes glinting with mischief.
He smiled, her words tugging at old memories of simpler days spent exploring ruins together. “You’ve always had a way of making me see the world differently,” he said softly, the words slipping out before he could stop them.
Ariana turned to him, her gaze lingering. For a moment, it felt as though time slowed, the weight of their shared history pressing down yet somehow lifting, too. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but then her hand brushed against his, the contact so fleeting it could have been accidental.
Without thinking, Cullen reached out, his fingers slipping between hers, interlacing gently. The motion felt natural, like a piece of their old lives slipping back into place.
Ariana paused, glancing down at their joined hands. When her eyes met his, she didn’t pull away. Instead, she smiled—a small, knowing smile that sent a warmth through him more potent than the strongest fire.
Neither spoke, but the silence between them was different now—less heavy, more charged with unspoken understanding.
As they reached the frozen lake, its surface shimmering under the moonlight, Cullen allowed himself a moment to simply be. He didn’t have the answers, didn’t know if he could fully mend what was broken, but this—her hand in his—felt like a start.
And for tonight, it was enough.