9 – 12 Bloomingtide 9:41
Cullen stood near the training grounds, his sharp eyes scanning the recruits as they fumbled through their stances. He corrected a soldier’s grip on a sword, but his focus wandered, drawn toward the rhythmic bustle of Haven. Amid the routine activity, a figure on horseback appeared at the edge of the village, and his chest tightened.
Ariana was back.
Relief was his first reaction, but it was fleeting. As she rode closer, his practiced gaze caught every detail: the exhaustion etched into her features, the subtle slump of her shoulders, the haunted, distant look in her hazel-green eyes. Whatever had happened in Redcliffe, it had shaken her.
She didn’t seem to notice him at first, her attention elsewhere, as though she was bracing herself for whatever came next.
“Herald,” Cullen called, his tone firm yet gentle, the sound cutting through the hum of Haven’s activity.
Ariana startled slightly at the sound of his voice, her head snapping up to meet his gaze. For a moment, the weariness in her eyes softened, replaced by a faint smile that felt more like an echo of the real thing. She dismounted with practiced ease, passing the reins to a waiting soldier before walking toward him.
“Are you all right?” Cullen asked, closing the distance between them. His voice was low, laced with concern.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” she replied, though the words lacked conviction. She tried to meet his gaze with a steadiness that faltered almost immediately. “I assume you’ve received the reports already?”
“Some,” he replied, frowning. “They weren’t very clear—only that there’s a Tevinter Magister in Redcliffe and that Arl Teagan has fled. What happened?”
Her gaze shifted, glancing around the training grounds as if gauging the number of ears nearby. “You want to walk with me?” she asked, managing a faint but more genuine smile.
Cullen nodded, falling into step beside her. They had only just turned toward the outskirts of Haven when a soldier approached, his face alight with an impish grin.
“My Lady Herald,” the soldier began, his tone caught somewhere between formal and teasing. “A moment?”
Ariana raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Yes?”
“What’s your favorite flower?” the soldier asked, his grin widening.
Ariana blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “I… um…” She hesitated before replying. “Jasmines and Lilacs, I suppose? Or Andraste’s Grace?”
The soldier nodded, his grin taking on an air of mischief as he gave her a quick bow. “Thank you, my Lady,” he said, walking away with a noticeable spring in his step.
Cullen exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Maker’s breath,” he muttered under his breath.
“Do I want to know what that was about?” Ariana asked, a small laugh escaping her despite the exhaustion weighing on her voice.
“No,” Cullen replied tersely, his jaw tightening. “Not really.”
Ariana chuckled, shaking her head. “You’ll tell me if there’s something I should know, though, right?”
His exasperation softened at her light tone. “If there’s anything important, you’ll be the first to know,” he assured her.
They continued toward a quiet spot near Haven’s edge, where Cullen gestured for her to sit on a low stone wall. He didn’t miss how heavily she sank onto it, her exhaustion palpable.
“Now,” he began, his voice softer, more measured, “are you going to tell me what happened in Redcliffe? And have you slept at all?”
Ariana sighed, leaning forward slightly and resting her elbows on her knees. “Not since we left,” she admitted. “My mind won’t stop. There’s too much to figure out.”
As she recounted the events of Redcliffe—the submission of the mages to Tevinter, Magister Alexius’s manipulation of time, Dorian and Felix’s warnings, and the Venatori’s unsettling fixation on her—Cullen listened intently. His hands rested over hers as he absorbed every word, his frown deepening with each revelation.
“Maker… Ari…” he murmured when she finished, his voice barely above a whisper. “This is worse than we ever anticipated. If they’re after you—”
“They’ll come for me whether I go back or not,” she interrupted, her voice resolute despite the weariness in her tone. “Hiding isn’t an option. And Cullen… this is my home. I’ve fought too hard for it, for Ferelden, to let Tevinter magisters stake a claim here. I won’t run.”
Cullen’s heart twisted at the determination in her voice, the fire in her eyes warring with the exhaustion etched into her every movement. “I understand,” he said after a moment, his voice quiet but firm. “But we’ll face this together. You don’t have to do it alone.”
Ariana offered him a tired but grateful smile. “I know. Thank you, Cullen.”
When her head dipped slightly, and her responses slowed, he realized she was fighting to stay awake. Before she could protest, he reached out, steadying her.
“Come on,” he said gently, his voice softening. “You need rest.”
She didn’t argue as he lifted her into his arms, her head falling against his shoulder as sleep claimed her. He carried her back to her quarters, the weight of her exhaustion heavier in his mind than in his arms.
Tucking her into bed, he lingered for a moment, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Rest, Ari,” he murmured. “I’ll do everything I can to keep you safe.”
As he closed the door softly behind him, his resolve hardened. The dangers they faced were overwhelming, but the thought of losing her was unthinkable. Whatever came next, he would face it head-on—for her. But the fear gnawed at him—no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he might not be able to protect her from this.
~~~
Ariana woke to the unfamiliar sensation of feeling… rested. The haze of exhaustion that had clung to her for days seemed to have lifted, if only slightly. She blinked slowly, her gaze adjusting to the soft morning light filtering through her quarters. The warmth of the blankets wrapped around her offered a rare comfort, and for a brief moment, she allowed herself to just be.
Fragments of the previous evening drifted through her mind. She remembered arriving at Haven, the heavy weight of her report spilling out as Cullen listened intently. She remembered his concern, the steady way he’d guided her through the chaos in her thoughts. But after that? Nothing.
Her brow furrowed, and she rubbed at her temple. She couldn’t remember leaving his side or even how she’d ended up in her quarters. There was a vague memory of warmth, a sense of safety that hadn’t been hers to feel in a long time.
A soft creak of the door interrupted her thoughts. Ariana turned her head just as Isabel entered, balancing a tray in her hands. The scent of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the room, and Ariana’s lips quirked into a faint smile.
“You’re still in bed, child?” Isabel teased, setting the tray down with practiced ease. Her tone was light, but there was an edge of motherly disapproval beneath it.
Ariana stretched, her limbs sluggish as she sat up against the headboard. “What time is it?”
“Almost mid-morning,” Isabel replied with an exaggerated sigh, though the warmth in her eyes belied her mock exasperation. “You’ve been asleep since shortly after dusk yesterday.”
“I don’t even remember coming to bed,” Ariana admitted, running a hand through her hair.
“Oh, you didn’t come to bed,” Isabel said, her smirk widening as she sat on the edge of the bed. “Cullen carried you here.”
Ariana blinked, her face heating slightly. “He… carried me?” The memory flickered faintly—his arms, his steady voice murmuring something she couldn’t quite recall.
“Yes,” Isabel said, clearly enjoying the moment. “Haven is positively alive with rumors now, you know. Moonlit strolls, late-night dinners… it’s quite the tale.”
Ariana groaned, burying her face in her hands. “Oh, Maker…”
Isabel chuckled, her eyes sparkling. “Come now, don’t pretend you’re surprised. This is a small town. People talk.”
“I told him this would happen,” Ariana muttered, peeking out from between her fingers.
“Did you now?” Isabel teased, raising a brow. “And what did he say?”
Ariana sighed, dropping her hands. “He said, ‘Let them talk.’” She hesitated, her voice softening. “At the time, I thought it was nothing. But now…”
“Now?” Isabel prompted, her tone gentle.
Ariana hesitated again, her gaze drifting to the window. “Now… I don’t know. I didn’t want to hope for anything, but…” She trailed off, shaking her head.
“But you do,” Isabel finished for her, her expression softening.
Ariana didn’t reply, but the faint smile on her lips spoke volumes. Maybe, just maybe, they were finding their way back to each other. And in the chaos of everything else, that fragile thread of hope made it all feel slightly more bearable.
The knock at the door startled them both. “Come,” Ariana called, setting her coffee aside.
The door creaked open, and Michael stepped inside, his presence as steady as always. But the grim look on his face immediately set Ariana on edge.
“Michael,” she greeted, rising from the bed. “I thought you were still in the Hinterlands.”
“I was,” he replied, his tone clipped. “But we need to talk, Ari. The Inquisition leadership may wish to hear this as well.”
Ariana’s smile faded, her posture straightening as the weight of his words settled over her. “Michael… what’s going on?”
He stepped further into the room, his expression grim. “We found where the Templars went.”
The words sent a chill through her, and she felt Isabel’s gaze shift toward her, filled with quiet concern. Ariana’s hand instinctively moved to her hip, where her dagger usually rested, as though readying herself for the fight to come.
“Very well,” she said at last, her voice steady. “Let me get dressed.”
Michael nodded, his eyes lingering on her for a moment before he stepped back toward the door.
As he left, Ariana exchanged a glance with Isabel, who offered her a reassuring smile. “Whatever it is, you’ll handle it,” Isabel said simply.
Ariana exhaled, nodding. “Let’s hope so,” she murmured.
Her mind churned as she moved to dress, the brief respite of hope she’d felt moments ago now buried beneath the weight of whatever news Michael had brought. But even as the tension settled in her chest, she couldn’t help but think of Cullen’s steady presence. Whatever was coming, she wouldn’t face it alone.
~~~
The war room felt suffocating, the weight of too many unsolved problems pressing down like a stormcloud ready to break. Cullen stood near the map table, his arms crossed tightly over his chest as he struggled to focus on the discussion. His eyes flicked to Ariana, and his concern deepened. She still carried the weariness from her journey, but her stance remained steady, her gaze sharp as she listened to Michael’s report.
Michael’s voice cut through the heavy air. “We’ve had new recruits, Templars, who’ve shared information. The Order has retreated to Therinfal Redoubt.”
Cassandra’s brow furrowed, her tone skeptical. “Therinfal Redoubt? That fortress has been abandoned for decades. Why would they choose it?”
Michael’s response was grim. “Because the Lord Seeker has taken permanent command of the Order. The recruits say he’s becoming… unstable.”
Cullen’s chest tightened as he processed the words. Another leader in a position of unchecked power, another figure whose erratic behavior could lead to ruin. It felt all too familiar. He forced himself to speak. “What do you mean by unstable?”
Michael’s expression hardened, and his gaze flicked to Ariana. “He’s obsessed with meeting her.”
The room fell into a brief, tense silence. Cullen’s jaw clenched so tightly he thought his teeth might crack. Why did everything seem to circle back to her? The Breach, Alexius, the Venatori, and now the Lord Seeker. He told himself it was because she bore the mark—the one thing capable of closing the rifts—but a darker thought lingered at the edges of his mind. Was she a target because she was their best chance of stopping this madness? Or was it something more sinister?
Ariana tilted her head, her tone laced with cautious humor. “Well, that’s… flattering. Did he happen to mention why?”
“Not specifically,” Michael replied, his frustration clear. “But the recruits fear he’s planning something drastic.”
Cullen shifted uncomfortably, every instinct screaming that this was a trap. He wanted to shout at her, to tell her to stay far away from both Alexius and the Lord Seeker, but he held his tongue as the debate spiraled. Michael argued against engaging the Templars directly, while Cassandra and Ariana debated the immediate threat posed by the mages and Venatori in Redcliffe.
When Ariana insisted they confront Alexius first, Cullen’s composure frayed. “Redcliffe Castle is one of the most defensible fortresses in Ferelden,” he said sharply. “If you go in there, you’ll die. And we’ll lose the only means we have of closing the rifts. I won’t allow it.”
The words left his mouth before he could stop them, and the moment they hung in the air, he saw her expression harden. Her brow arched, and her voice turned cutting. “Well, so long as we don’t lose sight of our priorities…”
Guilt hit him like a blow to the chest. “Ariana…” he began, but the conversation had already moved on, Michael and Leliana now arguing the tactical implications of Alexius’s magic.
Cullen barely heard them, his focus locked on her. He hadn’t meant it that way, hadn’t meant to reduce her to the mark she bore. But how could he explain that? How could he tell her that every risk she took felt like a dagger in his chest, that the thought of losing her was unbearable?
“The Rangers have been defending Ferelden for years,” Ariana said, her tone steady but fierce. “I’m not leaving Redcliffe to a Tevinter Magister, no matter what. If the Inquisition can’t move against them, the Rangers will.”
Her conviction left no room for argument, but it only deepened Cullen’s frustration. He admired her resolve—he always had—but it clashed so painfully with his need to protect her.
The tension in the room reached a breaking point just as the doors swung open. Dorian entered with his usual confidence, his smirk lighting up the room in a way that grated on Cullen’s nerves almost immediately.
“Fortunately,” Dorian announced, “you’ll have help.” His gaze lingered on Ariana, and Cullen’s irritation grew.
“Would you look at that,” Ariana quipped, her tone lighter than it had been all morning. “The Tevinter mage who isn’t a Magister. Come to my rescue again?”
Dorian grinned, approaching her with a flourish. “How could I resist rescuing such a beautiful woman? And you’re not just any woman—you’re the woman.”
Cullen’s grip on the edge of the map table tightened as Dorian took her hand and kissed it theatrically. He told himself it was nothing more that some noble’s theatrical flare. And yet…
“Dorian,” Ariana said with a soft laugh, tilting her head, “I’m beginning to think you just enjoy the drama.”
“Guilty as charged,” Dorian replied smoothly. “But you’ll find my skills indispensable, darling.”
Cullen cleared his throat, his voice cool. “If we’re done with the introductions, perhaps we could focus on the task at hand.”
Dorian didn’t miss a beat, turning to Cullen with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Of course, Commander. Your spies will never get past Alexius’s magic without my help. So if you’re going after him, I’m coming along.”
Cullen’s patience was nearing its limit, but he forced himself to nod. “Very well. If we’re to go forward with this, we’ll need to prepare immediately.” His gaze shifted to Ariana, and his voice softened. “It’s dangerous, and you’ll be the one in the most peril. Are you certain?”
Ariana met his gaze, her eyes steady and unwavering. “I’m certain,” she said simply. “Let’s go.”
As she left the war room, Dorian at her side, Cullen remained behind, watching her retreating figure with a mix of admiration and unease. The sting of her earlier words lingered, and the sight of her laughing with Dorian didn’t help. He clenched his fists, forcing himself to focus on the strategy ahead.
How am I supposed to protect her when she insists on throwing herself into danger? The question circled his mind, louder than all the others. He reminded himself that all he could do was mobilize all the resources at his disposal to ensure her safety as best he could in situations like this. He only hoped it would be enough.
~~~
Leliana stood quietly at the edge of the war room, her sharp eyes tracking every flicker of movement as the room emptied. The tension left behind was palpable, settling like a weight on the stone walls. Cullen remained rooted in place near the map table, his posture rigid, his fists tight at his sides.
His frustration was written in every tense line of his body, his gaze fixed on the door Ariana had walked through moments earlier. It was clear to Leliana that this wasn’t just about strategy or safety—it never had been.
“Leliana,” Cullen said abruptly, his tone sharper than usual as he turned to face her. “I want every scrap of information you can find on this… ‘Lord Pavus.’ His motivations, his loyalties, whether he can be trusted. Everything.”
Leliana raised an eyebrow, hiding her amusement beneath a mask of calm. “Dorian Pavus? He’s well-known in Tevinter circles, as I’m sure you’ve gathered. A powerful mage, well-educated, and something of a rebel within his own homeland.”
Cullen crossed his arms, his scowl deepening. “Known for what, exactly?”
Leliana allowed herself a faint smile. “For many things, none of which seem to align with Alexius or the Venatori. He’s no stranger to controversy, but not the kind you’re thinking of, Commander.”
Cullen’s eyes narrowed, his skepticism unwavering. “I won’t allow harm to come to the Herald because of some… stranger who walked in here uninvited.”
“Uninvited, perhaps,” Leliana said smoothly, “but not unwelcome. Ariana seems to trust him.”
Cullen’s jaw tightened at her words, the muscle in his cheek twitching slightly. “Trust is earned, not freely given. Until it is, I’ll ensure precautions are taken. Assign soldiers to follow them. Watch him closely. Make sure no harm comes to the Herald.”
Leliana exchanged a glance with Josephine, who had remained silent but observant at the map table. The ambassador’s lips pressed into a thoughtful line, her expression a mix of amusement and concern.
“Cullen,” Josephine began gently, her voice calm and even, “if the Herald trusts him enough to take him along, perhaps we should consider extending the same courtesy? Dorian Pavus has already proven himself useful.”
Cullen’s gaze flicked to her, his frustration palpable. “Useful isn’t the same as trustworthy. And Ariana—” He hesitated, his voice faltering as if catching himself. “The Herald is in enough danger as it is without adding an unknown Tevinter mage to this.”
“Commander,” she said, her voice edged with amusement but underpinned by a quiet seriousness. “Your protectiveness is admirable, but I can’t help but notice how much of your ire seems directed at Dorian specifically. Perhaps we should examine why.”
Cullen’s scowl deepened, his fists clenching tighter at his sides. “This isn’t about… him. It’s about her safety.”
“Is it?” Leliana pressed, her tone sharp but not unkind. “You’ve never reacted this strongly to our other allies. You’re proposing to assign soldiers to watch a single man—a man who has no army, no visible allegiance to Alexius, and no means of harming Ariana without jeopardizing himself. It feels rather… personal.”
Cullen opened his mouth to respond, but Josephine interjected with a soft sigh, her voice soothing. “Cullen, we understand your concerns, truly. But the Herald is capable of making her own judgments. If she feels Dorian Pavus can be trusted, perhaps we should give her the benefit of the doubt.”
Cullen’s expression hardened, though his eyes betrayed his inner turmoil. “I’ll be the judge of what’s a threat to her safety,” he muttered, his voice low and resolute.
Josephine gave Leliana a pointed glance, and Leliana decided to let the matter rest—for now. “Of course, Commander,” she said smoothly, though her smile betrayed her thoughts.
Without another word, Cullen turned on his heel and strode toward the door, his movements stiff with barely contained frustration. The door shut with a resounding thud, leaving Leliana and Josephine in the silence that followed.
“Well,” Leliana said, folding her arms and allowing her smile to grow. “It seems the Herald has achieved her goal.”
Josephine arched an elegant brow, her expression thoughtful. “Do you think she did it intentionally? Flirting with Dorian, knowing how Cullen might react?”
Leliana chuckled softly, shaking her head. “Perhaps. Or perhaps it was a reaction to Cullen’s own poorly chosen words earlier.” Her smile faded slightly, and she added, “She did seem hurt when he spoke of her death as merely a loss for the rifts.”
Josephine sighed, her hands clasping neatly in front of her. “Poor man. He doesn’t know how to express his feelings for her without making it about duty or strategy.”
“Poor woman,” Leliana countered. “She’s just as lost in this as he is. And yet…” She trailed off, her gaze flicking to the closed door.
“And yet?” Josephine prompted.
Leliana’s smile returned, though it was softer now, tinged with sympathy. “They’ll figure it out eventually. Or they’ll drive each other mad in the process.”
Josephine’s laughter was quiet, but genuine. “I suppose we’ll have to wait and see which it will be.”
With that, they returned to their work, though both women carried the weight of what they had witnessed. Ariana and Cullen’s bond, so fragile and fraught, was vital—not just for them, but for the Inquisition. And both women silently hoped it would survive the trials to come.
~~~
The road to Redcliffe stretched before them, the warm afternoon light casting long shadows across the dirt path. The weight of the mission ahead loomed heavy in Ariana’s mind, but the easy rhythm of conversation with Dorian managed to chip away at her tension. His presence, so irreverent yet strangely genuine, felt like a reprieve amidst the chaos.
“So,” Ariana began, casting a sidelong glance at him, “what exactly brings a charming Tevinter mage to Ferelden of all places? I can’t imagine the weather was a selling point.”
Dorian smirked, his stride as effortless as his demeanor. “Ah, Ferelden. A land of mud, overcast skies, and… surprisingly good ale. It’s the perfect place for a black sheep like me.”
Ariana arched an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. “Black sheep? You? I find that hard to believe.”
“Believe it,” Dorian replied, his tone laced with melodramatic flair. “I am the scion of House Pavus, a product of generations of careful breeding, and the repository of its hopes and dreams—political alliances, magical mastery, an endless list of dull obligations. And naturally, I despised it all. I decided I’d rather irritate my father than play the obedient son.”
Ariana chuckled softly, a genuine laugh that felt strange after the weight of the last few days. “So you abandoned your destiny?”
“Oh no, I rejected it,” Dorian corrected, wagging a finger as though admonishing her. “Subtle difference. My father wanted me to be another pawn in his game, and I refused. Tevinter doesn’t have nearly enough self-aware mages, you see.”
“That must’ve gone over well,” Ariana teased, her smile lingering.
Dorian shrugged with theatrical nonchalance. “Let’s just say the family dinners became much quieter after I left. And you, Lady Trevelyan? What’s your excuse for wandering the wilds of Ferelden instead of doing… whatever it is noble daughters do?”
Ariana felt the familiar pang of her past creeping up but brushed it aside with practiced ease. “I ran away from home. My family thought arranging a marriage for me was a good idea. I disagreed.”
“You ran away over marriage?” Dorian asked, arching an elegant eyebrow. “How scandalous. Did you at least leave a dramatic note?”
“Actually, I did,” Ariana said, smirking. “I left after the Summerday ball, in the middle of the night. A note for my father and my would-be fiancé, then I was gone before anyone noticed.”
Dorian’s expression lit with delight. “A note? How delightfully cryptic. Let me guess—‘I refuse to be shackled, good luck finding me?’”
“Something like that,” Ariana replied with a chuckle. “It was polite enough for my father, and maybe a little more understanding for my would-be fiancé. He was my best friend my entire childhood.”
“Ah, diplomacy,” Dorian said approvingly. “Even in rebellion, you keep it classy. I’m impressed.”
Ariana shook her head, smiling faintly. “What about you? If you’d stayed in Tevinter, what would your life have looked like?”
Dorian’s grin faltered slightly, replaced by a wry, self-deprecating smile. “Oh, that’s easy. I’d likely be married by now to some unlucky girl from a powerful family. We’d live in luxurious despair, despising each other while hosting elaborate dinners and pretending otherwise. All for the sake of politics, of course.”
Ariana winced. “That sounds… awful.”
“Oh, it would’ve been,” Dorian said lightly, though there was a sharpness beneath his words. “But at least I would’ve had excellent wine to drown my sorrows.”
“And the girl?” Ariana pressed, raising an eyebrow.
“She’d have all the wine she could want too,” Dorian replied smoothly, though his tone softened. “I’m not a monster. But no, that life wasn’t for me. I’d rather irritate my father and forge my own path than be a puppet in someone else’s game.”
Ariana’s smile faded slightly as she regarded him, her tone quieter. “Well, for what it’s worth, I think you made the right choice.”
Dorian looked at her, his grin softening into something warmer. “And what about you, my dear? Was your rebellion worth it?”
Ariana hesitated, the weight of her choices brushing against the edges of her thoughts. But then she smiled, her voice steady. “Absolutely.”
“So now, here you are,” Ariana said with a flourish, “helping the Inquisition instead of living the dream in Minrathous?”
“Call it a strong moral compass,” Dorian quipped, though his voice grew softer. “Or perhaps a desperate attempt to salvage what’s left of my homeland’s dignity.”
Ariana studied him for a moment, her expression thoughtful. “Well, for what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re here. Even if it’s just for your sharp tongue.”
Dorian’s grin returned, teasing. “Careful, my dear. Flattery will get you everywhere.”
“Will it?” Ariana teased back, her tone playful. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
The banter flowed easily between them, each quip and shared laugh building an unexpected camaraderie. Ariana couldn’t help but notice how natural it felt, how their shared disdain for the roles forced upon them created an easy connection.
And while the road ahead was uncertain, for now, she let herself enjoy the company of someone who understood the defiance of choosing a different path.