6 – 18 Solace 9:41
Between Haven and Skyhold, Ariana had started to settle into a routine—or at least, as much of a routine as someone in her position could manage. A little over a month had passed since she had been named Inquisitor, and she was still learning how to navigate the expectations that came with it. Some things were easier than others.
The war council meetings, however, remained the worst.
It wasn’t the reports or the decisions. She had handled far worse as a Ranger—harder choices, more dangerous outcomes. The difference was that now everyone looked to her before a choice was made. It wasn’t a discussion among equals; it was her judgment, her word that carried the weight of the Inquisition’s will. And she hated it.
The only reason she tolerated these meetings at all was Riley.
Cullen might have been her anchor, her steady support, but in meetings like these, he didn’t know how not to be ‘Commander Cullen.’ His role was too ingrained, too formal. His concern was real—she never doubted that—but he still spoke to her as Inquisitor Trevelyan.
Riley didn’t. Riley never did.
Which was probably why Leliana and Josephine both looked mildly horrified half the time Riley opened her mouth.
Ariana sat at the head of the table, half-listening as the advisors traded reports. At some point, she had completely stopped paying attention. She wasn’t sure when it happened, only that she had been watching Riley interject, handling all Ranger operations as easily as if this were one of their old strategy meetings.
Then Cullen spoke, his voice low and careful, pulling her abruptly back to the present. “Inquisitor.” The way he said it, quiet, concerned, made it clear he had been watching her for a while. “Is something wrong?”
Ariana straightened, forcing herself to focus. “What? No, I’m fine.”
The words left her mouth too fast, too rehearsed. Cullen’s brow creased slightly, and she could see the exact moment he didn’t believe her.
Before he could press the matter, Riley scoffed. “Bullshit.”
Josephine stiffened visibly, her hands tightening around a rolled-up parchment. Leliana’s lips thinned, and she cast a sidelong glance at Riley as if debating whether to intervene.
Ariana, however, just laughed. Genuinely. For the first time that morning.
“Well,” she said, still chuckling, “you seemed to have everything well in hand, Riley.”
“I don’t want your job, Wolf.” Riley shot her an unimpressed look. “They named you Inquisitor, not me.”
Ariana groaned, rubbing her eyes in mock exasperation. “Fine. What do you want from me now?”
Riley leaned back in her chair, arms crossed. “Crestwood. Undead. Hawke’s friend. You handling it, or am I writing back that the Inquisitor is too busy to deal with corpses today?”
Crestwood.
Ariana froze. Just for a second. Just long enough that Cullen noticed. She forced herself to keep her tone light. “Right. Crestwood…”
She exhaled, gaze shifting past Riley, toward the windows, where the sun cast long streaks of light across the stone floor.
She had avoided that place for years. If the Rangers had a job anywhere near the region, she had always sent others. Always. Crestwood wasn’t just another mission. It was a reminder.
If it hadn’t flooded, she might have made it back to Kinloch Hold. If it hadn’t flooded, Cullen might not have stopped looking for her. If it hadn’t flooded, maybe everything would have been different.
She didn’t want to go back. Which was exactly why she needed to.
Ariana pushed herself up from the chair. “Sure. Let’s go, Riley.” She motioned toward the door.
Riley frowned, clearly thrown off. “Wait, what?”
“I had to handle the last set of undead by myself. You can handle these.” Ariana smirked, already moving toward the exit.
Riley scoffed. “You don’t pay me for that, Wolf.”
“You’re right, I pay you for way more than that.” Ariana shot her a pointed look. “We’re going. You’re coming with me.”
Riley groaned but didn’t argue further, pushing up from her chair. “Not happy about this, Wolf.”
“You’re never happy about any job, Riley.”
A pointed silence settled over the room as Ariana reached for the door. That was when she felt Cullen’s eyes on her again.
She turned back, catching his expression—a flicker of something just beneath the surface.
His concern hadn’t faded. If anything, it had deepened.
“Is there anything else?” she asked the room, letting her gaze flick between Josephine, Leliana, and Cullen.
Cullen straightened, his hands loosely clasped behind his back.
“Nothing requiring your immediate attention.” The words were measured, but there was a new edge to his tone. Something unresolved.
Josephine and Leliana exchanged a glance before nodding their agreement.
Ariana gave a mock salute. “Very well. Come on, Riley. Seems like we have another town to save.”
Riley followed, grumbling under her breath as she fell into step beside her. “Seriously, this is the worst.”
Ariana grinned. “And yet, here you are.”
~~~
The wind was colder than Ariana remembered.
It whipped across the hills, carrying the damp scent of the valley below, the first hints of the ruins waiting for them beyond the next rise. She kept her posture easy, her hands steady on the reins, but she felt Riley’s gaze flick toward her more than once. It would only a matter of time before she said something.
“So,” Riley drawled at last, shifting in her saddle. “We talking about it, or are you just going to keep staring into the distance all broody-like?”
Ariana smirked, not looking at her. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Right.” Riley scoffed. “So it’s just coincidence that you suddenly can’t focus on a war council, and now we’re riding straight into the place you’ve spent years avoiding?”
Varric hummed from the other side of the group, flipping a gold coin between his fingers. “Riley’s got a point, pup. This is definitely avoidance material.”
Dorian, who had been otherwise occupied adjusting the cuffs of his far too expensive cloak, raised a brow. “You do realize I’m sitting right here, yes? If there’s something of interest, by all means, don’t let me stop you.”
Ariana sighed, knowing full well Riley wasn’t going to let this go. “It’s not important.”
“Oh, that’s bullshit,” Riley snapped.
Varric chuckled. “Definitely bullshit.”
Dorian perked up. “Now I am interested.”
Ariana let out a slow breath, watching the road ahead. The hills were rising now, the land sloping toward the valley—toward Crestwood. The air smelled the same. Felt the same. She clenched her fingers around the reins.
“I waited for him here,” she said at last, her voice quieter than before.
The group fell silent.
Riley didn’t need to ask who. Neither did Varric.
Ariana inhaled deeply before continuing. “After the Tower sealed its doors, I had nowhere to go. But I wasn’t leaving without him, so I wrote Cullen a letter and left it at the Spoiled Princess. I told him I’d stay in Crestwood as long as I could.”
Her jaw tightened. “I waited.”
A gust of wind caught the edge of her cloak, sending it billowing slightly behind her. “I waited until the darkspawn came.”
Riley’s expression had darkened. “And then the dam broke.”
Ariana nodded. “By the time I knew what was happening, the valley was gone. I had no choice—I had to run.”
She exhaled, voice quieter now. “Months later, I made it back to Kinloch Hold.”
Varric’s coin stilled between his fingers. Riley sat up straighter.
Dorian frowned. “Then why—?”
“He was already gone.” Ariana didn’t look at them. She kept her eyes ahead, Crestwood looming ever closer. “No one knew where.”
For the first time in a long while, Riley didn’t have a snarky retort.
Ariana huffed a humorless laugh. “If Crestwood hadn’t flooded, I would have gone back to the Tower before the worst of it. I never would have been alone during the Blight.”
Her fingers curled tighter around the reins.
“I never would have met him.”
Riley scoffed, shaking her head. “She never would have met us.”
Dorian arched a brow. “Us?”
Varric sighed, rolling the coin over his knuckles. “She never would have needed saving.”
Dorian’s gaze flicked back to Ariana, curiosity dancing in his expression. “Ah.”
Ariana didn’t answer.
Riley and Varric exchanged a look, their expressions shifting to something carefully neutral.
“Doesn’t matter,” Riley muttered.
Dorian narrowed his eyes slightly. “Ah. One of those stories.”
Ariana let out a slow breath, looking ahead toward the ruins of Crestwood in the distance. “One of those stories.” she whispered.
No one pushed further.
~~~
Crestwood was a mess.
The village sat in the shadow of its own past, half-sunken and surrounded by things that should have stayed dead. The undead crawled from the waterlogged ruins, their bones slick with rot, while the town itself teetered between fear and resignation. A massive rift churned in the middle of the lake, casting an eerie green glow against the water’s surface.
The problem? They couldn’t get to it.
The villagers muttered about the lake being too deep, the undead too many. The mayor—the same man who had been in charge the last time Ariana was here—seemed particularly uninterested in resolving the issue.
Ariana folded her arms, watching as he tried, yet again, to convince them to walk away.
“You’re certain this is necessary?” the mayor said, rubbing his hands together anxiously.
Ariana arched a brow. “You have undead pouring out of your lake. Do you think it’s not necessary?”
He flinched but didn’t back down. “There are risks to tampering with the dam. You should leave it be.”
Riley, standing just behind Ariana, let out a long, slow exhale that wasn’t quite a sigh. “Oh, I don’t like this guy.”
Ariana definitely didn’t like this guy. She had lingering memories of him from years ago—back when Crestwood had been quiet, when it had been nothing more than a peaceful village along the water.
Back when she had thought she had time to wait.
She forced the thought away, her gaze narrowing at the mayor. “The undead aren’t going to stop unless we close that rift. How do we get to it?”
The mayor hesitated. “The dam controls broke during the Blight,” he said at last. “Even if you wanted to try, you’d have to go through Caer Bronach.”
Ariana’s breath hitched.
Caer Bronach.
For a moment, she saw not the keep of today, but the ruins of yesterday. She remembered walking through its broken halls, long before she ever met Cullen, wondering what it must have been like when it still stood strong.
And now?
Now it was occupied by bandits. Of course it was.
Ariana exhaled slowly. “It’s never easy, is it?”
“Nope.” Riley popped the ‘p,’ already smirking.
Ariana turned, motioning vaguely at the village. “Want to clear out the undead? First, go clear out a keep. Then, fix some dam controls. Then, go find and close a rift.” She let out an exaggerated sigh. “Maker’s breath, I miss when my biggest problem was stealing intercepting mage transports.”
“You signed us up for this, Wolf.” Riley leaned against a nearby post, arms crossed.
Ariana waved her left hand dramatically, the mark flaring faintly with green light. “I didn’t sign up for this. I’m just stuck with this.”
Varric chuckled. “And yet, here we are.”
Dorian, who had been listening with increasing amusement, sighed theatrically. “Let me guess. Now we have to storm a keep.”
Ariana grinned. “Now we have to storm a keep.”
Dorian pinched the bridge of his nose. “You know, I had plans for today that did not involve wading through more bandits. Or undead-infested lakes.”
“Oh? What were you planning?” Riley asked, raising a brow.
Dorian gestured vaguely. “Something dignified.”
Ariana snorted. “That doesn’t sound like us at all.”
Riley grinned, throwing an arm over Ariana’s shoulder as they turned away from the mayor. “Come on, Wolf. Let’s go add ‘storming a keep’ to the list of things you didn’t sign up for.”
As it turned out, the bandits were more numerous than Ariana had expected.
She should have known better. There was never just one complication—there were layers of them. The bandits weren’t just a scattered group of thugs holed up in a ruined keep. They were organized, armed with Avvar weapons, and led by a damned Avvar chief.
Ariana gritted her teeth as she dodged a heavy downward swing, the massive maul crashing into the stone where she had stood a second before.
“Why is it always Avvar mixed with undead?” she groaned, twisting to slash at one of the lesser bandits.
Riley, sidestepping a wild swing from another attacker, let out a short laugh. “Don’t look at me. I don’t make the rules.”
“Maybe you should.” Ariana ducked under another swing from the Avvar, feeling the wind of the blow pass too close for comfort. “Then we could ban this pairing altogether.”
“Not a bad idea,” Riley admitted, driving her sword forward and catching one of the bandits in the gut.
The Avvar chief bellowed, his voice echoing through the ruined keep. His maul gleamed in the torchlight, wicked blades curved along the edges. Ariana didn’t like it. Didn’t like him.
Last time she fought an Avvar, Bull had nearly died taking a hit meant for her.
This time? That’s not happening.
She shifted, instinctively positioning herself between Riley and the Avvar, even as her friend moved to strike. Not today.
The Avvar lunged forward, a full-body swing, and she knew she couldn’t dodge completely. She twisted at the last second, trying to lessen the impact—
Pain.
A burning sensation tore through her side as the bladed edge of the maul sliced deep. The force of the blow sent her stumbling, her knees nearly buckling.
“Wolf!” Riley’s voice was sharp, angry, but Ariana waved her off, forcing herself upright.
No time for pain. Not now.
She pivoted, using the momentum of her stagger to drive one of her daggers up, catching the Avvar between the ribs. He let out a harsh, choking breath, trying to swing again, but Riley was already there, driving her sword through his chest.
The chief shuddered, gurgled, and collapsed.
The remaining bandits hesitated. Ariana didn’t give them time to rethink their life choices. “Run, or die.”
Most chose to run.
Silence followed, save for the flickering torchlight and the distant groan of wind through the ruined stone.
Varric was the first to break it, striding up with Bianca still in hand.
“You alright, Pup?”
Ariana exhaled sharply, pressing a hand to her side. “Fine.” She glanced at the blood now seeping between her fingers. Damn. “Those Avvar just hit hard.”
“They’re good fighters,” Varric admitted. “Wish they’d stop fighting us and just join the damn Inquisition.”
Dorian appeared at her side in an instant, assessing the wound before she could brush him off. “Now, darling, let me look at this. I can’t have you dying on me. Do you know what Cullen would do to me?” He clicked his tongue. “I’m not cut out for a dungeon.”
Ariana let out a breathless laugh. “You’d be fine. You’d charm your way out.”
Dorian smirked. “Obviously. But why risk it?”
A cool wave of magic spread over her injury, numbing the worst of the pain. She let her shoulders relax just slightly, allowing herself to breathe for the first time since the fight started.
Varric huffed, adjusting Bianca over his shoulder. “You know, Pup… you should consider claiming the keep for the Inquisition.”
Ariana arched a brow. “Oh?”
Varric gestured toward the fortifications, the strong defensive position overlooking the valley. “The village probably wouldn’t mind the stabilizing force. A handful of Inquisition troops here could mean the difference between this place staying safe or getting overrun again.”
Ariana tilted her head, considering.
He wasn’t wrong. And it wasn’t just the village—the Rangers could use another stronghold in Ferelden.
She nodded, conceding the point. “I’ll send word.”
Riley gave her a pointed look. “You’ll send word?”
Ariana sighed dramatically. “Fine. I’ll write a very polite letter asking Cullen to send forces.”
Varric grinned. “Oh, he’s gonna love that.”
~~~
Cullen had spent the morning sifting through reports while Josephine and Leliana discussed ongoing operations. The room carried its usual weight of responsibility, the steady rhythm of planning and strategy filling the space.
“The undead in Crestwood remain an issue,” Josephine said, marking something on her ledger. “The village is struggling, and the mayor’s reluctance to take decisive action has done little to improve matters.”
Leliana barely concealed her displeasure. “Either he is a coward, or he is hiding something. I would prefer not to waste agents discovering which.”
Cullen listened with half an ear, already considering the deployment of forces. He had been planning to oversee operations in Crestwood personally, but as Josephine and Leliana continued their exchange, the thought solidified into certainty.
A sharp knock interrupted them. A scout entered swiftly, saluting before stepping forward. “Message for you, Commander.”
Cullen turned toward the scout, his brow furrowing slightly at the unexpected communication. The parchment was hastily folded, sealed differently than a formal report. He accepted it, feeling a slight tension in his chest as he turned it over. Ariana.
His grip on the parchment tightened, unreadable emotions flickering beneath his careful composure. He broke the seal, unfolding the letter.
Cullen,
The village is definitely besieged by undead. The rift is in the middle of the lake. The broken dam controls could only be reached through Caer Bronach, which was occupied by bandits.
I took Caer Bronach, can you send someone to occupy it before bandits do again?
Only minor injuries. Nothing to worry about.
Love, Ari.
Cullen read the letter twice, his grip firm around the parchment as he let the words settle. She had taken an entire keep. Alone. And then, as if anticipating his reaction, she had added a casual dismissal of her injuries. Just enough to reassure, but not enough to convince him.
His jaw tightened. If they were truly minor, she wouldn’t have mentioned them at all.
He exhaled sharply through his nose and turned his attention to the scout. “She took an entire keep?”
The scout, standing rigidly at attention, nodded. “Yes, ser. Reports indicate heavy resistance.”
Cullen’s fingers pressed into the parchment, unease twisting in his chest. “Is she injured?”
The scout hesitated, his gaze shifting to Leliana before looking back to Cullen “She… it’s not… We’re not certain. The Inquisitor and her party are still at the keep. We believe Dorian has been tending to injuries.”
He forced himself to remain still, to keep his expression neutral, but his thoughts raced ahead. If she had been injured badly enough for Dorian to intervene, it was worse than minor. She wouldn’t have mentioned it otherwise.
Josephine and Leliana exchanged a glance before turning their attention to him.
Leliana, standing beside him, skimmed the message with sharp eyes. “She’s right. A keep in Crestwood would be valuable. It’s a particularly good vantage point to intercept intelligence. I would like my scouts to use it.”
Josephine, seated across from them, nodded. “A controlled outpost in Crestwood would also solidify our presence in the region. I can draft the necessary agreements with the local leaders.”
Cullen exhaled sharply. “I’ll take the forces myself.”
Josephine and Leliana exchanged a glance, both immediately aware that this was not just about strategy.
Leliana folded her arms. “Charter can lead the effort. There’s no need for you to—”
“No.” Cullen’s voice was firm. He looked up, expression unreadable but resolute. “I don’t believe her injuries are minor.”
Leliana studied him, then sighed. “She wouldn’t have mentioned them if they were.”
Cullen nodded, already turning to issue the orders. “Precisely.”
Josephine exhaled, already resigned to the outcome. “Please try not to storm an entire region on your way there.”
Cullen didn’t answer. He was already striding toward the door.
~~~
The night was cool, the remnants of the day’s battle lingering in the scent of burnt wood and the faint, acrid tang of dried blood. The keep stood tall against the darkened sky, torches flickering along the walls as Inquisition forces moved in to secure it. Cullen had ridden hard, pushing faster than was reasonable, but even now, as he reined in his horse at the edge of the encampment, the restless energy in his chest refused to settle.
He dismounted, barely acknowledging the soldier who stepped forward to take his reins, his gaze already sweeping the area. A campfire burned near the keep’s entrance, and gathered around it, Riley, Dorian, and Varric sat in various states of ease, a deck of Wicked Grace cards spread between them.
The moment they saw him, all three froze.
Riley’s hand stalled halfway through drawing a card, Dorian arched a brow, and Varric, ever the quickest to recover, let out a long, knowing sigh as he set his cards down.
“Well, shit.”
Cullen stepped forward, expression unreadable but eyes sharp. “Where is she?”
Riley held up a hand, already trying to head off the storm she saw coming. “Before you start barking orders, just—breathe. It’s not as bad as you think.”
Cullen’s jaw tightened. “Where. Is. She?”
Dorian let out a dramatic sigh, tossing his cards onto the pile. “Maker’s breath, Commander, I am an exceptional mage. She couldn’t be in better hands.” He gestured grandly at himself. “I even outdid myself this time. No permanent damage. Probably.”
Cullen’s glare could have burned a hole through him.
Dorian raised his hands. “Oh, come now, don’t look at me like that. You do know how magic works, yes?”
Cullen was in no mood for his theatrics. He turned back to Riley, but Varric—who had clearly seen this coming—saved her the trouble.
“She’s sleeping.” He gestured toward the far side of the keep, where a makeshift shelter had been set up within the inner walls. “That room over there.”
Cullen didn’t wait.
The room was dimly lit, the glow of the campfire outside casting long shadows across the stone walls. Cullen stepped inside quietly, his eyes adjusting to the darkness as he spotted her form beneath the blankets.
She was still.
For a brief moment, he just watched her. The steady rise and fall of her breathing, the faint furrow in her brow even in sleep. His heart ached at the sight of her, at the exhaustion written into her features, at the barely concealed bandages visible where the blanket had shifted.
Ariana had always been difficult to slow down.
He moved forward, reaching down to brush a loose strand of hair from her face.
However, Ariana reacted immediately. Her hand snapped up, fingers locking around his wrist in a firm, instinctive grip. He found himself almost surprised by the strength she displayed even in this state. The sharp inhale, the tension in her shoulders—it was too fast, too practiced.
Cullen froze, realizing he needed to let her wake fully. To take in her surroundings, waiting for the moment she recognized him.
And then, as recognition flickered, her grip loosened instantly. Her fingers sliding away as her body eased back into the bed.
“Cullen?” Her voice was still thick with sleep, but there was no mistaking the relief in it.
He exhaled, slow and steady. “It’s me.”
Ariana blinked up at him, taking him in as if she wasn’t quite sure he was real. Then, without a word, she shifted back slightly, lifting the blanket. The invitation was not lost on him.
He hesitated, the part of him that wanted to chastise her, to argue, to demand why she was always so reckless warring against the part of him that just needed to be here. To see her, to know she was safe.
But truthfully, he knew he didn’t need to argue. She had written minor injuries on purpose.
Ariana would never say grave or fatal injuries. She would never admit to being anything less than fine. This had been her way of telling him, of asking him, to come for her.
Cullen sighed, running a hand through his hair before finally removing his armor. The weight of it hit the stone floor in pieces, gauntlets first, then the breastplate, each movement methodical. When he was down to his undershirt, he slipped under the blanket beside her.
She curled into him without hesitation, her head resting against his shoulder, her body fitting against his side as though she had been waiting for him.
He let out a slow breath, pressing a kiss to her hair. “I’m here, love.”
Ariana murmured something against his chest, the words lost to the quiet, but it didn’t matter.
She’s safe.
And this time, she hadn’t waited in Crestwood alone.
~~~
Ariana stirred awake to the faint, familiar scent of elderflower and oakmoss. The warmth beside her had not disappeared, nor had the gentle weight of the arm draped over her waist, fingers tracing slow, absentminded patterns.
He was awake.
The realization settled in before her eyes even opened, the quiet steadiness of his presence grounding her in a way that made it easier to let go of the grogginess clinging to the edges of her mind. She exhaled softly, pressing further into the warmth of his chest.
“You came for me.” The words left her lips barely above a whisper, a simple truth wrapped in quiet gratitude.
Cullen’s grip on her arm tightened ever so slightly, his lips pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I promise, I always will.”
In that moment, the realization settled in her chest. She believed him. But more than that. She didn’t just believe he meant it, she believed he truly could. She believed in the certainty of it, that no matter what, no matter how many times she walked into the fire, he would find his way to her.
His hand shifted, fingertips ghosting over the edge of the bandages still wrapped around her side. “Are you alright?” he asked, his voice quiet but searching.
She hummed, nodding against his chest. “I am. Really,” she added before he could press further. “It wasn’t good, but Dorian was here. He handled it.”
His brow furrowed, and though she couldn’t see it, she could feel it in the way his body tensed beside her. “Let me see,” he murmured.
Ariana sighed, knowing there was no point in arguing. She pushed herself up slightly, resting back against the pillows as Cullen sat up beside her. His hands were gentle as he unwrapped the bandages, his touch careful, methodical. When the last layer peeled away, he exhaled sharply, his fingers brushing over the faint line where the wound had already begun to fade, little more than a shadow of what it had been.
“Dorian should be by soon to finish healing it,” she reassured him, resting her hand over his.
Cullen traced the mark one last time before rewrapping the bandages, his jaw tight with unspoken thoughts. She could see them forming, the instinct to chastise her, to tell her she needed to be more careful, to remind her that even she had limits.
But instead of speaking, he nodded, securing the final wrap before pressing a kiss to the inside of her wrist.
Ariana smiled, squeezing his hand. “I want to check the dam controls today.”
Cullen sighed, unsurprised but clearly unimpressed. “Of course you do.”
She grinned, pressing a kiss to his cheek before rolling out of bed. “If I don’t, who will?”
He ran a hand through his hair, still watching her with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. “Me. Or anyone else. You don’t have to be the one to—”
Ariana arched an eyebrow at him as she pulled on her tunic. “You’re coming with me, aren’t you?”
Cullen exhaled, rubbing at his temple. “Yes,” he admitted, already pulling on his armor. “Someone has to make sure you don’t try to take another fortress on your way there.”
She laughed, shaking her head. “No promises. There’s a tavern in the middle of the dam, it houses the controls. Could we capture that?”
Cullen shook his head, chuckling despite himself. “If that is your wish.”
~~~
Riley was waiting near the door that led towards the dam, arms crossed, her expression unreadable as Ariana and Cullen approached. She had already gathered a few of the Rangers, her sharp eyes darting between Ariana and Cullen.
Cullen only sighed. “Just… don’t let her take another keep.”
Riley snorted. “As if I could stop her.” Then, turning to Ariana, she said, “You’re going to look for the dam controls?”
Ariana nodded. “If we’re going to drain the lake, we need to figure out if the controls can be repaired.”
Riley jerked her head toward the path leading out of the keep. “Then let’s get to it.”
The walk was quiet, the air thick with the lingering scent of damp earth and stagnant water. Crestwood’s eerie stillness had settled back in after the night’s rest, the mist rolling off the lake as the morning sun struggled to cut through the haze.
As they reached the tavern that housed the dam controls, something felt strange. The building showed no signs of damage. It didn’t look to have been raided by darkspawn. Something wasn’t right. Ariana had expected to find the controls damaged—she was unsure as to the severity of the damage they would encounter.
What she hadn’t expected was for them to be in perfect working order.
She stared at the mechanisms in silence, her hands tightening at her sides. The gears, the levers—everything was intact. Functional. Ready to be used. Despite knowing the answer, she hoped against hope that when she turned the wheel, to open the dam nothing would happen. And yet, it offered no resistance.
Nothing had been broken.
As she heard the sound of water begin to rush through the dam, her mind raced, piecing together the truth that now sat so plainly in front of her. So obvious that it made her stomach twist in something dangerously close to rage.
The darkspawn hadn’t flooded Crestwood.
The mayor had.
Her breath came sharp through her nose as she turned to Cullen, her expression one of barely restrained fury, her voice as steady as she could manage. “I want the mayor captured. Now.”
Cullen was already on the same page, his posture rigid, his own fury barely contained beneath his steady, commanding tone. “At once, Inquisitor.” He turned to Riley. “Get him now.”
Riley wasted no time, already moving before either of them had finished speaking.
Ariana took a slow breath, clenching and unclenching her fists as she tried to push down the unrelenting anger burning beneath her skin. The mayor had murdered his own people—let them drown, let them suffer—all under the guise of an attack. And they had trusted him.
A part of her wanted to storm back to the village herself, to drag him out into the square and demand to know why. Why he had let them die, why he had lied, why he had sat in that office and said nothing while bodies filled the lake.
Her hands curled into fists, her nails biting into her palms, but before the rage could consume her, a familiar hand closed over hers, grounding her.
Cullen.
His grip was firm but careful, his thumb brushing lightly over her knuckles. “We’ll handle this,” he said, his voice quieter, steady. “Together.”
She exhaled, the fire in her chest still burning but contained, no longer unchecked. Her fingers tightened around his.
“Together.”
~~~
The night air was crisp, the sky above them a vast stretch of darkness interrupted only by the glimmer of stars. Ariana stood atop the battlements of Caer Bronach, arms folded against the cool breeze rolling off the now-lowered lake. The keep was quiet below, save for the distant murmur of voices from the courtyard. Scouts were moving in and out, securing the area, reinforcing what had now become another stronghold under the Inquisition’s banner.
Cullen stood beside her, his gaze sweeping across the valley before settling on the village. He had been waiting for the scouts to return, but when they finally arrived with their report, their news only deepened the tension already weighing on them.
“The mayor fled,” one of them had said, reluctant to meet Ariana’s gaze. “It looks like it’s been a few days now. We’re picking up his trail, but he had a head start.”
Ariana’s jaw tightened. “I should have realized he was hiding something.”
“Ari,” Cullen started softly, putting his arms around her trying to steady her. “You couldn’t have known. You couldn’t have imagined.”
She took a deep breath as she allowed herself to settle against hi. “Maybe, but I knew his hesitation seemed strange.”
“We will find him,” Cullen had assured her, his voice calm but firm. “I won’t stop until we do.”
As they stood in silence overlooking the lake, her fingers drummed absently against his arms. The revelations of the day sat heavy in her chest.
Crestwood had been a deception. The mayor had murdered his own people, had murdered countless refugees. People only looking for safety from the Blight.
And that wasn’t even the worst of it.
“I met with Hawke and Stroud today,” Ariana murmured, breaking the quiet between them. She could still hear the way Stroud had spoken, the grim certainty in his voice. “It’s worse than we thought.”
Cullen looked down slightly, waiting.
She let out a slow breath. “Corypheus can control Grey Wardens.”
He frowned, arms crossing over his chest. “Control them?”
“It’s not clear how exactly. But that’s not all of it.” Ariana looked back out over the lake, watching as the last remnants of mist curled over the surface. “All the Wardens have begun hearing the Calling.”
Cullen went still behind her.
“That’s why they’ve retreated,” she continued, voice quieter now. “Why they’ve all vanished. They think they’re dying. And maybe they are. But if they’re all hearing it at the same time…”
His jaw tightened. “Then something is deeply wrong.”
They stood in silence, the implications of it settling in their bones.
Cullen exhaled slowly, his arms tightening around her. “We’ll figure this out,” he murmured, though there was no certainty in the words. Not yet.
Ariana didn’t answer right away. The weight of everything—the mayor’s betrayal, the Grey Wardens, the sheer magnitude of what they were up against—settled heavily in her chest. But as she leaned against Cullen, her fingers absently tracing patterns against the worn fabric of his sleeve, another thought surfaced, something so distant from the present moment that it almost felt like a dream.
A quiet smile tugged at her lips. “You know… I stood almost in this exact spot twelve years ago.”
Cullen glanced down at her, brow furrowing slightly, but he didn’t interrupt.
“This was probably the first ‘ruin’ I ever explored after I ran away,” she continued, her voice softer now, carrying a touch of nostalgia.
Cullen’s hold on her tightened slightly, but still, he let her speak.
“Back then, all I could wonder was what it would have been like to be a defender here. The battles this place may have seen.” She chuckled under her breath, shaking her head. “It was the first time I had stopped here, before I even made it to the Lake Calenhad Docks.”
She sighed, letting the memory settle between them. “And now, here I am. Twelve years later. I hold the keep. I defend it. I became part of the history I once imagined.”
Cullen smiled faintly, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face. “You really have been preparing for war your whole life, haven’t you?”
Ariana smirked, shifting to look up at him. “I didn’t think so at the time. Some things don’t change, I guess.”
His expression softened. “Some do.”
She hummed, leaning her head against his shoulder once more. For tonight, as she stood in the same place she had all those years ago, with him, she could almost believe that things had come full circle. No, not almost. This wasn’t just full circle. It was fate. From the first time she had set foot here, to the time she spent waiting, to tonight—where she stood as its defender.
~~~
The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, leaving only the fading glow of twilight as they made camp for the night. The road back to Skyhold had been quiet, the journey uneventful, though Ariana had barely noticed the passing landscape. She had spent the better part of the ride lost in thought, letting the rhythmic sound of hoofbeats and the crisp evening air settle the weight of the last few days.
By the time they had dismounted and secured the horses, the fire had been built, casting flickering shadows along the trees. The quiet hum of the wilderness surrounded them, the occasional rustling of leaves the only sound beyond the low crackle of burning wood.
Ariana stretched out on the blanket beside Cullen, rolling her shoulders as the warmth from the flames seeped into her skin. He sat with his back against a fallen log, gaze distant, though she could tell his thoughts were nowhere near their camp.
For a long while, neither of them spoke.
Then, softly, Ariana broke the silence. “Emma’s been feeling a little lonely.”
Cullen turned his head, brow furrowing slightly at the shift in conversation. “Lonely?”
Ariana nodded. “She’s trying not to show it, but I can tell. She misses spending time with you.”
She didn’t say it as an accusation, only a simple truth. She knew he had been consumed by work, that the weight of leading Skyhold’s forces demanded everything of him, but Emma was still young. She could see how hard the little girl tried to be strong, to be independent, just as she had been raised to be.
But she still needed her uncle.
Cullen exhaled, rubbing a hand across his jaw. “I hadn’t realized…” He trailed off, eyes flickering with quiet guilt. “I should have.”
Ariana smiled softly, watching as he processed the truth of it. “She understands you’re busy,” she reassured him. “But she still misses you.”
He nodded, his jaw tight as he turned his gaze toward the fire. “I’ll do better.”
Ariana tilted her head, watching him for a long moment before smiling knowingly. “I know you will.”
He glanced at her then, lips curving slightly before she shifted, moving to lay her head in his lap. His hand instinctively drifted to her hair, fingers threading through the strands with absentminded ease.
Ariana sighed, letting her eyes drift closed as the warmth of the fire, the steady rhythm of his touch, lulled her into contentment. As she rubbed at her eyes, her ring caught the firelight, the gleam of the sapphire drawing Cullen’s gaze.
She felt it before she saw it—his hand moving from her hair, fingers curling gently around hers.
He traced the ring with his thumb, slow and deliberate, his touch lingering.
Ariana opened her eyes, looking up at him, immediately recognizing the look on his face.
He was thinking about their wedding.
About the plans they had begun in Kirkwall, the ones left unfinished in the wake of everything else.
She smirked, deciding to snap him out of his thoughts before they drifted too far. “What is it?” she teased. “Do you have a problem with the color scheme?”
Cullen blinked, startled out of his reverie.
Ariana grinned. “Or is it the idea of having it in Skyhold?”
Much to her surprise, he almost took her seriously. He laughed, shaking his head. “No, the color scheme is fine,” he said, still tracing the ring with his thumb. “And I just want to have the wedding wherever you’d prefer. Be it Skyhold or the manor.”
She sat up then, shifting to straddle his legs, resting her hands against his chest as she studied him, as realization settled in her chest.
He wasn’t just thinking about their wedding.
He was ready.
She searched his face, as if waiting for him to confirm what she already knew. “You mean that.”
Cullen let out a breathless laugh, sliding his hands to rest at her hips. “Of course, I do.” He squeezed lightly, his expression softening. “I want to marry you. I’ve wanted to marry you for a long time.”
Ariana didn’t let him finish. She kissed him before the words even fully left his mouth, her fingers curling into the fabric of his tunic as she closed the space between them.
He responded instantly, the tension in his shoulders melting away as he pulled her closer, deepening the kiss with an urgency that mirrored her own.
She felt his hands tighten at her waist, the warmth of his touch grounding her in the moment, in the quiet certainty of this.
The fire crackled beside them, the night stretching on, and nothing else mattered.
~~~
Cullen stirred awake to the sudden absence of warmth beside him.
His eyes opened, adjusting quickly to the dim light of their camp. The fire had burned low, casting flickering shadows along the trees, and the night air had cooled considerably. But it wasn’t the cold that had woken him—it was her.
Ariana sat upright beside him, her breath uneven, her posture tense. One hand clutched her left arm, fingers pressing into the fabric of her sleeve as she scanned the darkness, searching for something unseen.
Cullen pushed himself up slowly, careful not to move too fast, not to startle her further. “Ariana,” he murmured, his voice low, steady.
She didn’t respond immediately.
Her breathing was measured but shallow, her gaze shifting, still caught between the remnants of the dream and the reality in front of her.
It’s taking too long, he realized. It was taking longer than he’d ever seen for her to focus, too long for the tension in her shoulders to ease.
He reached for her gently, fingers brushing against the back of her hand before wrapping around it. “It’s just me,” he said, firmer this time, enough to pull her attention back to him.
She blinked, her gaze finally settling on his, and in an instant, the alarm drained from her features.
“Cullen.” Her voice was hoarse, quiet, almost uncertain, as if she were still catching up to the moment.
He squeezed her hand lightly. “You’re alright.”
She let out a slow breath, her grip on her arm easing, though she didn’t release it entirely. After a moment, she offered him a small, tired smile. “Just a nightmare,” she murmured, dismissive, as she always was.
Cullen didn’t believe her. He knew better, he knew this type of nightmare all too well.
But instead of pressing, he just nodded, watching as she shifted back down, curling against him without hesitation. He wrapped an arm around her, his hand settling against the small of her back as she exhaled against his chest.
He knew better than to push her right now.
Her nightmares had always been there, lurking at the edges of her mind, surfacing in the quietest moments. He had seen her wake like this before, suddenly, sharply, as if still in the fight, but tonight it had taken much longer for her to come back.
He rubbed his hand along her back absently, his mind turning over the thought.
One mage—one man—doesn’t justify mistreating all others.
She had said it so deliberately.
His brow furrowed as another memory surfaced—Isabel’s voice, sharp but knowing. Ariana’s been through storms most of us wouldn’t survive.
Riley had said something similar once, spoken it like a truth everyone but him had already accepted.
Cullen’s jaw tightened as he held her closer, as the weight of it all settled deeper into his chest. What happened to you, Ari?
He didn’t ask, not tonight.
Instead, he focused on the quiet sound of her breathing, on the way her body finally relaxed against him. He let himself stay awake, stay steady, stay present, watching over her as the fire burned low.
Even if she wouldn’t tell him, even if she still carried it alone, he would be here.
And he would find a way to help her.
Even if she never asked him to.