19 – 26 Solace 9:41
When they finally reached Skyhold, Ariana was exhausted. The weight of everything that had happened—Crestwood, the Wardens, the mayor’s betrayal—pressed down on her shoulders like a cloak she couldn’t shrug off. But more than that, the nightmare from the other night clung to her like a shadow. It had been different. Sharper. The pain had lingered longer, wrapping itself around her arm and refusing to let go, even in the daylight.
But as they passed through the gates, a familiar sound broke through her thoughts.
Small footsteps pounded against the stone, followed by the bright, eager voice that never failed to tug at her heart.
“Cullen!”
Before Ariana could fully register the moment, Cullen had already handed off his horse’s reins to a nearby soldier. He barely had time to bend down before Emma collided with him, her arms wrapping tightly around his neck as he scooped her up with ease.
He laughed, the sound warm and full, cutting through the exhaustion like sunlight through fog. “Were you waiting for me?”
“Yes! Linnea said you’d be back soon!” Emma’s voice bubbled with excitement as she clung to him.
Ariana couldn’t help the smile that crept onto her face. The way Cullen’s eyes softened when he looked at Emma, the way his arms wrapped around her with the ease of someone who had done it a hundred times before—it was a kind of joy Ariana didn’t see often, but when she did, it filled something inside her she hadn’t realized was empty.
Cullen glanced over at Ariana, his smile lingering as he set Emma back down.
“Do you have a report for me, recruit?” he asked, his voice dropping into a mock-serious tone that made Emma giggle.
She straightened immediately, saluting him with exaggerated precision before launching into a detailed recount of her week. Cullen listened intently, nodding along, occasionally glancing back at Ariana with that same soft smile.
When Emma tugged at his hand, eager to show him something she’d found, Cullen let her lead him away without hesitation.
Ariana stood there, watching them go, until she felt a familiar presence at her side.
“Quite the pair, those two,” Isabel murmured, stepping up beside her with a smile.
Ariana’s gaze lingered on Cullen and Emma, their laughter echoing down the stone halls. “She calls him ‘uncle,’” Ariana said quietly, “but she doesn’t see him that way, does she?”
It wasn’t really a question.
Isabel shook her head, her smile softening. “No. And I will always be immensely grateful to you and Cullen for that. He’s been a father to her, even if he hasn’t entirely realized it.”
Ariana felt a warmth bloom in her chest, even as the weight of exhaustion settled deeper in her bones. She wrapped an arm around Isabel’s shoulders, giving her a gentle squeeze. “Come now, Isabel. Don’t start getting all sentimental on me.”
Isabel chuckled, nudging her lightly. “Oh, I know what you need, child.” She tipped her head toward the keep. “Off to the kitchen with you, then. Let’s get you fed.”
Ariana’s smile widened as they made their way inside, the warmth of the halls wrapping around them like a familiar embrace. But beneath the surface of that comfort, a quiet unease lingered, like a shadow she couldn’t quite shake.
The kitchen was warm and bustling, the scent of fresh bread and simmering stew filling the air. Ariana sank into a chair near the hearth, the warmth from the fire soothing the lingering chill in her bones. Isabel moved around the space with practiced ease, gathering food and muttering under her breath about how thin Ariana looked after every mission.
But as Isabel set down a bowl of stew in front of her, she paused, her sharp eyes narrowing slightly.
“You’re smiling,” Isabel observed, her tone light but curious. “But it’s different.”
Ariana blinked, surprised, then chuckled softly. She dipped her spoon into the bowl, stirring absentmindedly. “Cullen wants to get married.”
Isabel raised an eyebrow, not immediately understanding. “You’re already engaged.”
Ariana shook her head, setting the spoon down. “No, I mean… he wants to get married. He’s ready. He doesn’t want to wait anymore.”
For a moment, Isabel said nothing, her expression unreadable. Then, realization dawned, and she let out a quiet laugh, shaking her head.
“Are you telling me we need to plan a wedding right now?”
Ariana’s smile grew, warmth blooming in her chest despite the fatigue. “I think we do.”
But even as they laughed, even as they leaned into the joy of the moment, Ariana felt the dark undercurrent tug at the edges of her mind. The nightmare still lingered. The pain in her arm wasn’t just a memory—it was a reminder. A shadow she couldn’t outrun.
And no matter how much light Cullen and Emma brought into her life, a part of her couldn’t shake the feeling that some things refused to stay buried. She told herself he was dead—that the wounds she left him with were enough. But even now, when the world was quiet, that certainty wavered.
~~~
Cullen’s boots echoed softly against the stone floors of Skyhold’s halls as he made his way back to their quarters. The day had been long—filled with meetings, catching up on reports, and organizing the new troops stationed at Caer Bronach. But despite the exhaustion settling into his shoulders, there was a lingering warmth from the hours he’d spent with Emma earlier. Her laughter, her stories, the way her hand fit so easily in his—those were the moments that grounded him.
But as he opened the door to their quarters, that warmth faded, replaced by a quiet tension that settled in his chest.
Ariana was there, sitting on the couch by the hearth, her house robe loosely tied at the waist. A book rested on her lap, but she wasn’t reading it. Her head was leaned back against the armrest, eyes closed, and her right hand was absently rubbing her left forearm. The glass of whiskey on the table beside her was nearly untouched.
What struck him most, though, was her stillness. She hadn’t reacted to his presence—no flicker of acknowledgment, no shift in posture. That wasn’t like her. Ariana was always aware, always tuned to the smallest change in her surroundings. But now, it was as if she wasn’t entirely there.
He walked over quietly, his brow furrowing as he approached. Trying not to press too hard, he kept his tone light. “What are you reading?”
Ariana’s body tensed for a brief second, her eyes fluttering open in surprise. It was a fleeting reaction, but Cullen caught it—the way her breath hitched just slightly before she masked it with a practiced smile.
She held up the book, her voice casual. “The Viper’s Nest. One of Varric’s earlier works.”
Cullen sat down beside her, his eyes scanning her face, looking for any cracks in the facade. “Is it any good?”
She chuckled softly, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “It’s no Hard in Hightown, but it’s not bad.”
He nodded, letting the silence stretch for a moment, hoping she’d fill it with something—anything. But she didn’t. Her fingers drifted back to her forearm, the motion absent, like she wasn’t even aware she was doing it.
Cullen shifted, leaning closer, his voice softer now. “Ari, are you alright?”
For a split second, he saw it—a flicker of something in her eyes. Fear. But just as quickly, it was gone, hidden behind that same carefully constructed smile.
“I’m fine,” she said, her tone light, dismissive. “Just tired.”
He wasn’t convinced. Not even close.
“You know you can tell me anything,” he said gently, his hand finding hers, squeezing it lightly.
Ariana’s smile didn’t falter, but her eyes drifted away from his. “There’s nothing to tell,” she murmured, before meeting his gaze again. “Come to bed, Cullen. I could use some sleep in an actual bed.”
He hesitated for a moment, searching her face for any sign she might let him in. But all he found was that same guarded expression, the wall she had built around whatever haunted her.
Finally, he nodded, rising to his feet and offering her his hand. “Alright.”
They moved to the bed, settling beneath the covers. Ariana curled against him, her head resting on his chest, her breathing slowing as sleep began to claim her.
But Cullen remained awake, his fingers trailing through her hair as his mind replayed the night’s events. He could feel the tension still lingering in her body, even in sleep. The way she had been rubbing her arm, the flicker of fear in her eyes—it all pointed to something deeper, something she wasn’t ready to share.
He tightened his hold on her, his resolve firm. Whatever it was, he would be here. And when she was ready, he would be the one she could lean on.
But for now, he kept watch, his eyes fixed on the darkened ceiling, afraid of what the night might bring.
~~~
The days following their return to Skyhold were a blur of duties and distractions. But it didn’t escape Cullen’s notice how Ariana was filling her time. She was waking up early, heading to the training grounds before dawn to spar with recruits and Rangers alike. She buried herself in reports more than usual, consulting with Leliana and Josephine on every matter that required attention—and even those that didn’t. She was trying to distract herself.
His only consolation was that, so far, she hadn’t had any more nightmares. She had mostly stopped rubbing her arm, but the memory of that motion still gnawed at him. There were no scars on her arm—not there, anyway. He would have noticed by now if there were. He wondered if it was a nervous, unconscious compulsion. But that didn’t sound right. Not for her.
Cullen was lost in thought, staring at the scattered papers on his desk, when a knock at the door pulled him from his reverie.
“Commander?”
He looked up to see Dorian standing in the doorway, a casual, almost mischievous smile playing on his lips.
“Care for a game of chess?” Dorian asked, stepping into the room as if the answer was already a given.
Cullen blinked, momentarily taken aback. “Chess?”
Dorian raised an eyebrow. “Yes, chess. I’ve been told you’re an exceptional player, and I’m in need of a worthy opponent.”
Cullen opened his mouth to decline, the weight of his responsibilities pressing at the edges of his mind. But after a moment, he paused. Maybe a match would do him some good.
“Alright,” he said, standing. “Let’s go.”
They made their way to the Skyhold gardens, finding a quiet table under the soft glow of lantern light. The game started quickly, each move calculated and deliberate.
“Gloat all you like. I have this one,” Cullen smirked, moving a piece with confidence.
“Are you sassing me, Commander? I didn’t know you had it in you,” Dorian quipped, his eyes gleaming.
Cullen chuckled, ready to respond, but his words caught in his throat as he spotted movement out of the corner of his eye.
“Why do I even—Ariana.” His tone softened as he saw her approaching, her steps light but purposeful. He began to stand, but Ariana waved him off.
“Leaving, are you? Does this mean I win?” Dorian teased.
“Don’t let me interrupt. You’re about to win, after all.” Her smile playful.
“Darling, please. You need to let your Commander come to terms with my inevitable victory. He’ll feel much better that way,” Dorian added with a smirk.
“Really? Because I just won,” Cullen said, his smirk widening as the final piece of his strategy played out.
Dorian stared at the board, his eyes narrowing as he studied the position.
Ariana laughed—a genuine, lighthearted sound that Cullen hadn’t heard in days. It warmed something inside him.
“Wait, Dorian… is this the first time you’ve played against Cullen?” she asked, her amusement clear.
“Don’t get smug. There will be no living with you,” Dorian huffed, standing and brushing off his tunic before turning to Cullen. “We’ll have a rematch.”
As Dorian walked away, Ariana took the now-empty seat across from Cullen, her eyes still bright with laughter.
“You didn’t warn him?” she teased.
“He said he’d been told I was good at chess. Didn’t think he needed a warning,” Cullen replied, shaking his head with a smile. “I should probably return to my duties… unless you would care for a game?”
Ariana’s eyes sparkled, the playful teasing back in her expression. It was a relief to see, even if it was just for now.
“Very well. Prepare the board, Commander.”
As their match continued, Cullen felt a mixture of relief and lingering concern. Yes, she seemed better today. She seemed herself. But it only made him realize how easily she could bury whatever haunted her. With time, she would always mask it, push it deep enough that even he might forget—until it surfaced again. She wasn’t dealing with it. She wasn’t processing it.
She was just burying it deep enough to not think about it most days.
And if anyone knew what that was like, it was him.
~~~
Ariana had found a steady routine that helped settle her mind. Just as Cullen had promised, he enabled her to train recruits in the mornings, and along with Lamberto and Valentina, they spent their time in the training yard with the new Inquisition recruits. Even Riley was getting more comfortable handling the early morning gathering of reports and concerns from Cullen, Leliana, and Josephine so Ariana didn’t have to.
I need to pay her more… Ariana chuckled to herself.
As she stood at the training yard watching over the recruits, a peculiar sight caught her attention. An arrival—another visiting noble, by the look of it. A parade of guards surrounded the guest. Yet someone else wants to meet the famed Inquisitor, she sighed. She could already see Josephine exiting the main hall, ready to handle it, so she turned her attention back to the recruits.
“What’s this? The Inquisitor can’t be bothered to greet her guests?” A familiar voice teased, pulling her attention back.
Ariana’s heart leapt, relief flooding through her as she turned toward the voice. Fred.
There he was, still standing beside his horse, a smirk on his face. She barely registered Josephine’s alarmed expression before she took off, sprinting towards Frederick.
When she reached him, she jumped, wrapping her arms and legs around him. Frederick caught her with the ease of years of practice, their reunion effortless despite the time apart.
Without opening her eyes, she could feel the stares around her—could practically hear Josephine’s gasp at the Inquisitor’s unseemly display with a visiting noble.
Ariana pulled back slightly but didn’t let him set her down. “What are you doing here, Fred? No one told me you were coming.”
“Maker, I’ve missed you, Ari,” Frederick murmured, pulling her into another tight hug before finally setting her down. “Are you alright?”
Ariana shrugged, raising her left hand. “Eh, I glow now… don’t get me started,” she replied with a mock-defeated tone.
Josephine finally stepped forward, clearing her throat delicately. “Inquisitor… I believe it may be… appropriate to let Lord Decken get settled.”
Ariana turned to Josephine, arching an eyebrow at the unexpected interruption. Then she looked back at Frederick, her grin returning. “Do you need to get settled, Fred?” she asked knowingly.
“Of course not. Where are we going?” Frederick smirked.
“Lord Decken,” one of his attendants interjected, his voice formal and stiff. “I believe Lady Montilyet has the right of it. We should get settled first. It has been a long journey.”
Ariana wasn’t sure she had ever heard anyone speak so formally—not even her mother.
Frederick subtly motioned behind her, his smirk deepening. Without hesitation, Ariana intertwined her hand with his, and they both took off running back toward the stables. She knew from there they could sneak into the kitchens, make their way to the basement of Skyhold, and lose everyone who might try to follow.
~~~
From his vantage point on the battlements just outside his office, Cullen observed the scene unfolding in the courtyard below. The arrival of another noble was nothing new—Skyhold had become a revolving door of political figures—but Ariana’s reaction was anything but typical.
“What’s this? The Inquisitor can’t be bothered to greet her guests?” a familiar voice called out.
Cullen’s eyes narrowed slightly before widening in recognition as he saw Ariana’s entire demeanor shift. Without a moment’s hesitation, she sprinted toward the man—Frederick Decken.
Cullen watched as she leapt into Frederick’s arms, her laughter ringing out as he caught her with practiced ease. The way they clung to each other, they hadn’t seen each other in a long time and clearly missed each other.
But it wasn’t the display that caught Cullen’s attention. It was Josephine’s expression just beyond the courtyard—a mix of alarm, confusion, and what Cullen could only describe as outright panic.
A slow grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. She doesn’t know.
As Ariana and Frederick disappeared toward the stables, Cullen descended from the battlements, making his way down to where Josephine stood, still staring after them with wide eyes. When she finally noticed Cullen approaching, her face paled.
Perfect.
“Josephine,” Cullen greeted, his tone light as he approached. “What’s the matter?”
Josephine blinked rapidly, clearly trying to collect herself. “I—Commander… I…” She stumbled over her words, glancing back toward where Ariana and Frederick had disappeared. “I’m not exactly sure what just happened.”
Cullen let out a low chuckle, crossing his arms over his chest. “Ah, well…” He paused for dramatic effect, watching as Josephine’s anxiety visibly increased. “You see, Ariana was engaged to Frederick before.”
Josephine’s eyes widened even further, her mouth opening slightly in shock. “Engaged?” she echoed, her voice almost a whisper. “I… Commander, I’m so sorry… I didn’t realize… I hope nothing happened in Crestwood…”
Cullen couldn’t hold back the laughter that bubbled up, his amusement catching Josephine completely off guard. “Nothing happened in Crestwood,” he assured her between chuckles. “Frederick is Ariana’s best friend. They grew up together.”
Josephine blinked, her confusion deepening. “But… the engagement?”
“Ah, yes,” Cullen nodded, still smiling. “That was their parents’ doing. It’s actually what caused Ariana to run away in the first place.”
Josephine’s posture finally began to relax, though a hint of discomfort lingered. “I see…” She glanced toward the courtyard again, shaking her head slightly. “Still, that behavior… it wasn’t exactly appropriate for the Inquisitor to display.”
Cullen’s smile softened, but there was a note of firmness in his voice when he replied. “What is appropriate for the Inquisitor will be decided by Ariana alone.” He met Josephine’s gaze steadily. “We chose to make Ariana Trevelyan—the black sheep of the Trevelyan family, the White Wolf of the Silver Rangers—Inquisitor. This is who she is.”
Josephine held his gaze for a moment longer before nodding slowly. “Of course, Commander,” she said quietly, though the unease in her expression hadn’t entirely faded.
Cullen watched as she turned and walked away, his smile lingering. Ariana was many things—a noble, a leader, a friend. But most importantly, she was herself. And that was exactly who Thedas needed.
~~~
Ariana led Frederick through the dimly lit basement corridors of Skyhold, their footsteps echoing softly off the stone walls. The faint scent of aged parchment and cool earth clung to the air, a familiar comfort within the fortress’s ancient bones. They ascended the stairs toward the main hall, their pace unhurried, savoring the rare chance to catch up in private.
As they passed through the bustling main hall and began to climb the staircase toward the library, Ariana noticed the glances—the whispered murmurs from visiting nobles speculating about the nature of their relationship. She caught Frederick’s eye, and they both shared a knowing smile.
“Let them wonder,” she murmured.
“It’s not as if it’s the first time,” Frederick replied with a smirk.
Reaching the library, Ariana’s gaze immediately found Dorian, seated near one of the tall windows, a letter in his hand. His usual confident posture was there, but something about his expression seemed off—subdued, almost distant.
“Dorian,” Ariana called softly, approaching with Frederick at her side. “I’d like you to meet someone.”
Dorian looked up, his smile appearing out of habit but not quite reaching his eyes. “Ah, the famous friend,” he said, standing to greet them. But Ariana noticed the letter in his hand, the slight tremor in his fingers as he set it aside.
“Dorian, are you alright?” she asked, her eyes flicking between him and the letter.
His smile softened, a bittersweet edge to it. “A letter regarding Felix,” he began. “He went to the Magisterium. Stood on the senate floor and told them of you. A glowing testimonial, I’m informed. No news on the reaction, but everyone back home is talking. Felix always was as good as his word.”
“Was?” The word caught in Ariana’s throat, her eyes narrowing slightly.
Dorian’s smile wavered, and he nodded slowly. “He passed. The Blight finally caught up with him.”
Ariana reached out, resting a hand on his arm. “I’m so sorry, Dorian. Are you alright?”
Dorian’s gaze drifted toward the window, his voice quieter now. “Felix used to sneak me treats from the kitchens when I was working late in his father’s study. ‘Don’t get into trouble on my behalf,’ I’d tell him. ‘I like trouble,’ he’d say.” He chuckled softly, the sound tinged with sadness. “Tevinter could use more mages like him—those who put the good of others above themselves.”
Ariana squeezed his arm gently. “You make it sound like he was a better person than you.”
Dorian’s eyes flicked back to hers, a spark of his usual charm returning. “What a mad thing to say. Few people are better than I.” He paused, his grin widening slightly. “Very well. A better person, clearly. Not nearly as handsome.”
Ariana chuckled, grateful to see him returning to himself. “Come now, a good friend once told me there’s nothing a good bottle of wine can’t fix.”
“Truer words have never been spoken,” Dorian agreed, looping his arm through hers. “Besides, then I can get to know this handsome man you’ve brought me.” He turned to Frederick, eyes gleaming with mischief. “So you’re the famous best friend… he’s quite handsome. Why didn’t you want to marry this man?”
“Maker save me. I should have seen that coming,” Ariana sighed, rolling her eyes.
Frederick laughed, his arm resting casually on Ariana’s shoulder. “I’ve asked so many times, she can never tell me.”
Their banter continued all the way to the tavern, much to Ariana’s regret—though the warmth it brought, seeing them both lighten, was something she wouldn’t trade for anything.
~~~
The Herald’s Rest was already buzzing with the usual evening crowd, but their arrival brought a new energy to the room. They claimed a large table near the hearth, ordering wine and ale with little regard for how quickly the drinks began to flow.
It wasn’t long before Hawke and Varric sauntered in, their expressions lighting up at the sight of Ariana and Frederick.
“Well, look who’s back,” Varric grinned, clapping Frederick on the back. “And bringing trouble with him, I see.”
“You’re just jealous you can’t pull off ‘trouble’ as well as I do,” Frederick shot back, earning a hearty laugh from Varric.
Hawke slid into a seat beside Ariana, eyeing the growing collection of bottles on the table. “Starting without us? That’s hardly fair.”
“We were just warming up,” Ariana smirked, pouring another round.
Before long, Michael and Linnea joined them, their arrival greeted with cheers and more than a few sarcastic remarks about their timing. As they settled in, Ariana shot her brother a mischievous glance.
“Oh, by the way,” she said, loud enough for the whole table to hear, “I just found out that Michael and Linnea are doing more than just sneaking around.”
Hawke nearly choked on her drink, and Varric’s eyebrows shot up. “Wait, what?” Varric exclaimed, grinning. “The templar and the Ranger’s spymaster?”
“Apparently,” Ariana teased, her smirk widening. “At this rate, they’ll probably get married before I do.”
Michael looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole, his face turning a shade of red that matched the wine in his glass. Linnea, on the other hand, just laughed, tossing her arm around his shoulders.
“Can’t rush perfection,” Linnea quipped, winking at Ariana.
Inevitably, someone, probably Hawke, produced a deck of Wicked Grace cards, and the games began. Bets were placed, each round more outrageous than the last. The stakes shifted from coin to increasingly inappropriate dares, much to Ariana’s growing amusement, and slight dread.
“Alright,” Varric declared after a particularly dramatic hand, “three rounds from now, loser’s climbs the highest point in Skyhold.”
“You’re all going to regret that,” Michael muttered, narrowing his eyes at his cards.
By the time Leliana slipped in, the table was a chaotic mess of empty bottles, scattered cards, and increasingly rowdy laughter.
“I see I’ve missed quite the gathering,” Leliana remarked, her voice smooth but amused as she leaned against the nearest post. “But it’s not a real party until someone’s smallclothes are pinned to a Chantry board.”
Ariana blinked, then turned to her with mock-seriousness. “Do we… do we even have a Chantry board in Skyhold?”
“We can improvise,” Leliana replied with a wink, smoothly taking over the deck of cards. “Now, are you all ready for a real game?”
Somewhere in the chaos, someone’s smallclothes—Ariana never did find out whose—ended up dangling from a chandelier, and by the time they stumbled out into the cool night air, Ariana couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed so hard.
~~~
Cullen had just returned from his office, the weight of reports and strategic planning lingering in the back of his mind. He’d already shed his armor, the familiar weight replaced by the loose comfort of his linen shirt and trousers. As he set down the last of his reports on the desk, the door to their quarters creaked open, revealing Ariana.
Her cheeks were flushed from the cold—and perhaps from something stronger—and her steps were just the slightest bit unsteady. But her smile? Radiant, wide, and unapologetically free in a way Cullen rarely saw.
He leaned against the desk, arms crossed over his chest, his gaze softening as he watched her kick off her boots with a graceless thud. “I heard about quite the events at the tavern tonight,” he remarked, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smile.
Ariana’s laugh was light, bubbling from her chest as she flopped onto the edge of the bed. “Someone lost their smallclothes, apparently,” she said, waving a hand dismissively. “Though, I’m not entirely sure who. Details are… foggy.”
Cullen chuckled, pushing off from the desk and making his way closer. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her like this—so loose, so unburdened, even if only for a night.
“Foggy, hmm?” he teased. “And here I thought you had an ironclad memory.”
“Not when Leliana’s involved,” Ariana groaned, flopping back against the pillows. “I’m also fairly certain I lost more gold tonight than I ever have before.”
“To Leliana?” Cullen asked, feigning surprise. “I’m shocked.”
“It’s criminal,” Ariana muttered, though her grin betrayed her amusement. She tilted her head toward him, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Do we even have a Chantry board in Skyhold?”
Cullen blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in topic. “A Chantry board?”
Ariana snickered at his confusion. “Leliana said it’s not a real party until someone’s smallclothes are pinned to a Chantry board. I was just… wondering.”
Cullen laughed, shaking his head as he moved to sit on the edge of the bed beside her. “I’m not sure I want to know the answer to that.”
“Probably wise,” she agreed, her laughter softening as she leaned into him.
He turned to her, his eyes scanning her flushed cheeks, the relaxed lines of her face. This was a version of Ariana he’d rarely seen—unguarded, carefree, and just a little reckless. And he found he liked it. More than he expected.
“So,” he began, his tone light but teasing, “should I be checking if you still have your smallclothes?”
Ariana’s eyes sparkled with laughter, but she caught the insinuation easily, leaning back on her elbows. “You probably should,” she teased, her voice dropping slightly. “But… if they’re still there, I wouldn’t mind if you removed them.”
Cullen didn’t hesitate. In an instant, his hands found her waist as he leaned in close. Ariana let out a surprised laugh, her arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him toward her with playful ease.
She grinned up at him, her breath catching as his weight settled beside her, his lips brushing against hers with a hunger that sent a thrill down her spine.
“You’re trouble tonight,” he murmured against her skin, his fingers tracing the curve of her waist.
“You like trouble,” she whispered back, pulling him closer.
Cullen chuckled, pulling back just enough to meet her eyes. “Is this something I should expect more often?”
Ariana shrugged, her grin never faltering. “Maybe.”
He studied her for a moment, his heart swelling with a mix of affection and curiosity. He was more certain than ever that he wanted to do everything in his power to let her have as many nights like this as she wanted. To relieve her of the burdens that prevented it.
“Then I’ll be ready,” he whispered, capturing her lips again in a kiss that promised he’d follow her into whatever chaos she brought.
~~~
Ariana sat at the war table, her head resting in her hand, fingers pressing against her temple as if she could will the pounding headache away. Leliana sat beside her, looking equally miserable, her usual sharp gaze dulled by the clear effects of too much wine. The room felt too bright, the reports too loud, and the voices, Maker help her, were unbearable.
“Could we please keep the voices down?” Ariana muttered, not even attempting to mask the irritation in her tone.
Leliana groaned in agreement, waving a dismissive hand toward Josephine, who was speaking far too cheerfully for this hour. “I agree with the Inquisitor. There is no need to be speak so loudly.”
Josephine’s lips twitched, but she wisely refrained from commenting. Across the table, Cullen exchanged a knowing glance with Riley, both of them clearly amused by the sorry state of their Inquisitor and spymaster.
As they flipped through another report, Ariana suddenly huffed. “I need a rematch in Wicked Grace. I need to make some of that gold back.”
Riley snorted, leaning back in her chair with a smug grin. “You lost at Wicked Grace? How much did you lose, Wolf?” Her tone was all mockery, the kind of baiting Ariana knew all too well.
Ariana didn’t miss a beat. “I just gambled away your salary for the next few months.”
Riley’s eyes widened, alarm flickering across her face. “You better be planning to win it back!”
Ariana smirked, waving her off lazily. “You’re probably one of the richest people in this room, Riley. You’ll be fine not getting paid for a few months.”
Riley shot her a glare that could’ve burned through stone, but Ariana just chuckled and flipped the next report over.
Cullen finally cleared his throat, the hint of a smile still tugging at his lips. “We’ve received a report from a young hopeful looking to help the Inquisition.”
He picked up a letter, reading it aloud with just enough seriousness to make Ariana’s headache throb a little more:
To the Inquisition,
I found bandits stalking your patrols. They are the usual kind, and I can show your people where they are. I’d have tried to stop them, but they have swords, and I don’t. If you have extra, I will help. I want to help.
D. Sutherland
Ariana blinked, trying to focus through the fog in her brain. “I met the boy in the tavern the other day. Seems eager to help.”
Cullen nodded thoughtfully. “He already knows where to find the bandits. I say equip him well, and let him handle it.”
Ariana considered for a moment before nodding. “He deserves a chance. But send a Ranger with him—just in case.”
Riley gave a small nod, jotting down a quick note.
Ariana straightened slightly, trying not to groan as her headache protested the movement. “Any updates on finding the mayor of Crestwood?”
Leliana, still looking like she’d prefer to crawl back into bed, shook her head. “Not yet. But he’ll need supplies soon enough. My agents can inquire along the roads out of Crestwood. We’ll catch him when he tries to resupply.”
Ariana nodded. “Do it.” She turned to Riley. “Let Arl Teagan know we’re looking for the mayor and why.”
Then to Josephine, “And send word to King Alistair. Include the letter the mayor left, confessing what he did.”
Both women nodded, scribbling notes before gathering their papers.
“Anything else?” Ariana asked, already dreading the possibility of more reports.
When no one spoke, she waved them off. “Good. Dismissed.”
Riley, Josephine, and Leliana filed out, leaving the war room blessedly quiet. Ariana leaned heavily against the table, trying to steady herself, as Cullen approached, his expression far too amused for her liking.
He stopped beside her, his arms crossed over his chest, that smug, knowing look on his face. “Rough night?”
Ariana groaned, letting herself lean against him, grateful for his warmth and steady presence. “I need to go back to bed.”
Cullen chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “You think you’ll survive until then?”
Ariana sighed dramatically. “I might not.”
Cullen laughed again, guiding her gently toward the door. “Come on, Inquisitor. Let’s get you to bed before you start gambling away my salary.”
Ariana blinked, her steps slow as she leaned more heavily into him. “Do I pay you?” she muttered, brows furrowing in confusion. “I don’t think I pay you… The Inquisition pays you.”
Cullen chuckled, tightening his hold around her waist. “So, my salary is safe then?”
Ariana gave a small, exaggerated nod, her voice muffled against his shoulder. “Probably.”
Cullen shook his head, amusement flickering in his eyes as he steered her down the hall. “That’s reassuring.”