24 Bloomingtide 9:41
Cullen carried Ariana through the snow, the weight of her limp body far less heavy than the storm of emotions surging within him. Relief, fear, and disbelief warred for dominance as he looked down at her pale face, her dark hair streaked with frost and matted with snow. Her breathing was shallow, each faint exhale a fragile thread tethering her to life.
Riley caught up to him, her boots crunching through the snow as she matched his pace. Her gaze fixed on Ariana, and her lips trembled as she pressed a trembling hand to Ariana’s forehead. “She’s so cold… but she’s alive,” Riley murmured, her voice cracking under the weight of her relief. She cupped Ariana’s face, her thumb brushing over her cheek, before leaning her forehead gently against hers. “Maker forgive me, but I swear I’m going to kill you when you wake up,” she whispered, her tone a fragile mix of affection and frustration.
Pulling back, Riley looked up at Cullen with tears glistening in her eyes, a faint, shaky smile breaking through her disbelief. “I told you she’d make it.”
Cullen let out a small, breathless laugh, though the sound was laced with tension and frayed nerves. “That you did, Lieutenant. Thank you.” His voice softened as his gaze returned to Ariana, his expression raw. “Let’s get her to the healers. She’s hurt… I think her ribs are broken. She flinched when I picked her up.”
Riley nodded, falling into step beside him. “She’ll pull through. She has to.” Her words carried a fierce determination, but the fear beneath them was unmistakable.
The camp was a hive of frantic activity, its flickering fires casting warm halos against the swirling remnants of the storm. Soldiers and villagers moved with purpose, their breaths visible in the cold air. Cullen barely registered the chaos, his focus singular. A Ranger pointed them toward a larger tent where Grand Enchanter Fiona and Mother Giselle waited, their calm, steady presence grounding amidst the whirlwind.
“Lay her down, Commander,” Fiona instructed, motioning to a cot. Her voice was gentle but carried an authority that brooked no argument.
Cullen knelt carefully, lowering Ariana onto the cot as though she were made of glass. His hands lingered on her briefly before he forced himself to pull away, his heart pounding. “She was holding her side,” he said, his voice tight with worry. “Her ribs—she’s been in pain for hours. Maybe longer.”
Fiona nodded, her hands already moving to assess Ariana’s injuries. “It’s possible her ribs are broken, but I won’t know the extent until I’ve examined her thoroughly. Whatever she’s endured, Commander, she’s strong. To make it this far… it’s remarkable.”
Cullen’s jaw tightened as he reached for Ariana’s hand, his thumb brushing lightly against her icy skin. His voice was barely audible. “She’s stronger than anyone I’ve ever known.”
Fiona paused briefly to glance up at him, her expression softening. “Commander, I know it’s hard, but you must let me work. Trust me—she’s in good hands. My best healers are on their way. We’ll take care of her.”
Her words struck him like a blow, the truth of them clear. He swallowed hard and nodded, his fingers releasing Ariana’s hand reluctantly. “Please… keep me informed,” he managed, his voice tight with restrained emotion.
“I will,” Fiona said gently. “You have my word. Now go. She needs warmth, rest, and healing—and so do you. She’ll need you when she wakes.”
Cullen stepped out of the tent, the cold air biting at his skin, but he barely felt it. His eyes lifted to the mountains looming beyond the camp, the remnants of the storm swirling around their peaks. For the first time since Ariana had made the decision to recruit the mages, he felt truly grateful. Without their presence, their healers, her chances…
No, he thought. I can’t think like that. She will survive this.
He reached into his pocket, his gloved hand closing around the ring she had entrusted to him. Its weight was small, but the promise it carried felt infinite. He held it tightly, his resolve hardening with each beat of his heart.
If you can survive this, Ariana… I swear to you, I’ll never let you go again. Whatever else we need to face, whatever we need to say… You’re mine. And I’ll make sure the world knows it. That you know it.
The faint warmth of the fires flickered in the distance, but Cullen’s focus remained on the ring and the thought of her eyes opening again. Please, Maker. Just bring her back.
~~~
The camp had settled into a tense rhythm as the night dragged on. Cullen sat outside Ariana’s tent, his shoulders hunched against the cold as he stared into the darkness beyond the campfires. The weight of responsibility pressed heavily on him, but it was nothing compared to the storm of emotions churning inside. For now, all he could do was wait.
The ring in his gloved hand felt heavier than it should, its edges biting into his palm as he turned it over and over. He had carried her through the snow, watched Fiona work to stabilize her, and now, with Ariana’s life hanging by a thread, all that remained was hope. The thought of losing her again, after all they had endured, was almost unbearable.
Riley approached quietly, her steps muffled by the snow. Her arms were full of blankets, and her expression was a mix of exhaustion and cautious hope. She set the blankets down beside him before speaking.
“You should rest, Cullen,” she said softly. “It’s going to be a long day tomorrow.”
“I can’t,” he replied, his voice low, his gaze fixed on the distant mountains. “Not while she’s still like this.”
“She’s tough,” Riley said, her tone firm with conviction. “She’ll pull through.”
Cullen shook his head, the guilt in his chest twisting tighter. “It wasn’t just her choice, Riley. I gave the orders. I told the soldiers to load the trebuchet, knowing what it meant.” His voice tightened. “I helped her stay behind.”
Riley stepped closer, her tone steady but resolute. “She would’ve stayed either way. You know as well as I do—when she decides something, there’s no stopping her.”
His fingers closed around the ring, the familiar weight grounding him. “And somehow, she survived. Again.” His gaze remained distant, his voice raw. “She believes in me—believes I’m someone worth following. But what if I’m not? What if I let her down?”
Riley hesitated, the usual confidence in her demeanor softening for a moment. She glanced at the healer’s tent, her expression flickering with something unspoken before she looked back at him. “Cullen, do you know why I follow her? Why all of the Vanguard do?”
He shook his head, his brow furrowing. “Because she’s strong,” he guessed, though his tone lacked conviction.
“It’s more than that,” Riley said quietly, her voice almost reverent. “She never lets fear win. Even when she has every reason to. That’s what makes her strong, yes, but it’s also why she inspires us. She’s not just our leader, Cullen—she’s our hope. And right now, she’s placed that hope in you.”
Cullen frowned, the weight of her words sinking in. Before he could respond, Riley pressed on, her tone firm.
“If Wolf believes in you, then the Rangers will stand with you. No matter what you decide, no matter where this fight takes us. You’re one of the few people she trusts to protect her—and we trust her without question. That means we’ll trust you too.”
The breath Cullen hadn’t realized he was holding left him in a slow exhale. Riley’s words were both a reassurance and a challenge, their weight settling heavily on his shoulders. He nodded slowly, though his voice was tight with emotion when he spoke. “Thank you, Riley.”
She offered a faint, encouraging smile, her usual sharp edge returning as she added, “So don’t screw it up, Commander. She’s counting on you—and so are we.”
Before Cullen could respond, Cassandra’s voice broke through the moment. “Cullen, we need you at the strategy meeting.”
He hesitated, his gaze lingering on the tent where Ariana lay. Riley touched his arm briefly, her voice low.
“She’s still here, Cullen. That’s what matters. And she’s going to be fine. I know it.”
Her words were firm, but Cullen could see the flicker of doubt she was hiding. He nodded slowly, rising to his feet. “Thank you,” he said quietly, though the words felt insufficient.
The strategy tent was dimly lit, the makeshift table cluttered with maps and reports, their edges curling from exposure to the cold. Leliana and Josephine were already deep in discussion, their voices low but urgent. Cassandra stood nearby, her posture rigid as she waited for Cullen to join them.
“Any updates?” Leliana asked as Cullen entered.
“Fiona says she’s stable,” he replied, taking a seat. “But she needs time. That’s all we can give her for now.”
“And Haven?” Josephine asked, her voice laced with quiet despair.
“Buried,” Cullen said bluntly. “There’s nothing left.”
Leliana leaned over the map, tracing a narrow route to the west with her gloved finger. “The avalanche bought us time, but not much. Corypheus’s forces won’t stop just because they’ve been delayed.”
“Then we move,” Cassandra said sharply. “We can’t afford to stay exposed here.”
“Move where?” Josephine countered, her arms crossed. “We’ve lost too many supplies. The villagers are exhausted. Another march could break them.”
“Then we stay and fortify,” Cassandra argued. “This pass is defensible—narrow enough to hold.”
“With what soldiers?” Leliana interjected. “Half of them can barely stand, and the rest are frostbitten. We’d never withstand a prolonged assault.”
“The Rangers will hold the pass,” Riley cut in, her voice steady as she entered the tent. “So long as Wolf is here, we’ll hold it to the last man.”
Cassandra turned to her, skepticism in her tone. “Even the Rangers must be near their limit.”
Riley smirked faintly, her confidence unwavering. “You don’t know us, Seeker. We’re tired, but we don’t give up. Not when she’s still fighting.”
The argument continued, voices rising and falling as they debated every detail. Cullen leaned against the table, his fingers pressing into the wood. The tension was suffocating, the indecision maddening. His thoughts drifted back to Ariana, lying motionless in the healer’s tent.
You’re the leader Thedas needs right now. Her words echoed in his mind, a quiet but insistent reminder. He clenched his fists, willing himself to believe it.
“We need a plan,” Cullen said abruptly, his voice cutting through the noise. “Not another argument. The soldiers need orders. The villagers need direction. Staying here is not an option.”
“And going east is?” Cassandra asked, her tone challenging.
“It’s the only viable choice,” Cullen replied firmly. “The valley is low enough to shield us from the worst of the weather, and it gives us room to regroup and scout for resources.”
The group fell silent, the weight of the decision settling over them. Leliana studied Cullen for a long moment before nodding. “We’ll send scouts ahead. If the valley is clear, we move.”
Cullen nodded, though his thoughts remained heavy. As the others returned to planning, his gaze drifted once more to the healer’s tent. If I can’t believe in myself, then I’ll believe in her belief. I won’t let her down.
Maker, give me strength—to be the man she believes I am.
~~~
The voices outside were a constant, muffled by the thick canvas of the tent but unmistakable in their tension. Ariana blinked against the dim light, her vision hazy as she tried to make sense of her surroundings. Her body felt heavy, every ache and bruise screaming in protest as she shifted on the cot. The smell of herbs and faint traces of burning wood filled her nose, grounding her in the present.
“Ah, you’re awake,” Mother Giselle’s gentle voice broke through the fog. She approached, her hands clasped tightly before her. Relief softened her features, though worry lingered in her eyes. “You shouldn’t try to move just yet. Your body needs time.”
Ariana ignored the admonition, gritting her teeth as she pushed herself upright. Every breath was sharp and shallow, her ribs protesting the movement. “The arguing,” she croaked, her voice raspy and low. “It’s been going on for hours.”
Giselle knelt beside her, dipping a cloth into a bowl of cool water. “The leaders have yet to reach an accord. Tensions run high, as does the uncertainty. It is… a difficult time.”
Ariana exhaled slowly, wincing at the sharp pull in her chest. “It’s always a difficult time,” she muttered, pressing her palm against her forehead. “Don’t they realize there’s no time for this? Not now.”
“They realize, but even the wisest minds falter when direction seems impossible to find,” Giselle said gently, handing Ariana the damp cloth. “They feel the weight of their choices as heavily as you do.”
Ariana pressed the cloth to her face, the coolness soothing against her skin but doing little for the fire simmering inside her. She thought of Haven—the people they’d lost, the camp buried beneath snow and ash. The endless arguing felt like a betrayal to those who had sacrificed so much.
She let the cloth fall into her lap, her gaze distant. “I thought Cullen would be the one to lead us,” she murmured. “I’ve seen him on the battlefield. He doesn’t hesitate. He knows exactly what to do.” Her tone softened, tinged with frustration. “But here…”
Giselle tilted her head, her expression contemplative. “The Commander is certainly capable of commanding troops and making quick decisions. His soldiers trust him. But leading the Inquisition? It is not a burden he has accepted.”
Ariana watched her for a moment, thinking through her words. She was right, of course. She admired Cullen. She had watched the way he didn’t hesitate to make a decision when Haven was under attack. There was never any second-guessing; taking control seemed as natural as breathing for him. But then, she had also watched the debates in the war room, and she had lived with him in Kirkwall. He hated politics, he hated managing personalities and diplomacy. Though he was an expert at finding diplomatic compromises, she still believed he could lead the Inquisition. But if she had to guess, he didn’t want to. Maybe she would need to push him, to make him realize he could do this.
If only Cullen saw himself the way I do—unflinching in battle, unyielding in his convictions. But he doesn’t want this, not the way they need someone to want it.
Ariana frowned, her fingers absently tracing the edge of the blanket. “He doesn’t want it,” she admitted quietly. “But I believe he could do it. He could lead this.”
Giselle gave her a measured look. “Perhaps he could. But would he?”
The question lingered in the air, unanswered.
“Do we even know where Corypheus is?” Ariana asked, her frustration mounting.
“We are not entirely sure where we are,” Giselle admitted, her voice heavy. “That may be why, despite the numbers he still commands, there is no sign of him. That, or you are believed dead. Or without Haven, we are thought helpless. Or…” She paused, frowning. “Or he girds for another attack. I cannot claim to know the mind of that creature, only his effect on us.”
Ariana sighed, her shoulders sagging. “So, we’re blind and scattered. That’s reassuring.”
Giselle hesitated but nodded. Her gaze softened as she studied Ariana. “Our leaders struggle because of what we survivors witnessed. We saw our defender stand… and fall. And now, we have seen her return.”
Ariana frowned, standing up before responding. “I didn’t die, Mother Giselle. Barely escaped, maybe. But I didn’t die.”
“Of course, and the dead cannot return from across the Veil,” Giselle replied, her tone calm, almost soothing. “But the people know what they saw. Or perhaps, what they needed to see. The Maker works both in the moment and in how it is remembered. Can we truly know the heavens are not with us?”
Ariana shook her head slowly, her fingers brushing against the mark on her hand as it flickered faintly. “I don’t believe in miracles, Mother Giselle. I believe in fate, maybe. That it wasn’t my time. But a miracle?” Her voice softened, though a bitter edge lingered. “No. I survived because I had no other choice.” Because I had orders the thought made her smile faintly.
“And yet you are here,” Giselle said softly. “Whether by fate or by sheer will, you endured. That alone gives people hope.”
Hope. The word lingered in Ariana’s mind, tangled with the weight of Haven’s destruction and the lives now at stake. “Hope isn’t enough to fight Corypheus,” she said after a long pause, her voice low but steady. “We can’t beat him with prayers and stories. We need plans. Action.”
Giselle studied her, her gaze unwavering. “Plans need strength to anchor them. And you, Herald, are stronger than you realize.”
Ariana gave a short laugh, bitter and sharp. “I’m just trying to keep everyone alive.”
“And they see that,” Giselle said softly. “They follow you, even if you do not see yourself as their leader.”
“I’m not their leader,” Ariana replied, her voice hard. “I’m the White Wolf. My Rangers know who I am. Out here, we protect those who can’t protect themselves. That’s it. This isn’t what I do. I don’t have to worry about political alliances or borders. I don’t have to spend my time courting nobles. We help people, we take on simple jobs that are defined. Even helping to rebuild Ferelden was a series of known tasks. The Inquisition? I don’t know what to do with that.”
“And yet, you are more,” Giselle insisted. “You give them hope.”
Ariana fell silent, the words weighing heavily on her. She never set out to inspire hope. But that was what the White Wolf had done for Ferelden. If she needed to do it again, she would.
Giselle placed a hand on her shoulder, her touch warm and steady. “Leadership is rarely sought, but it is often found in those who bear the weight without realizing they carry it.” she smiled as if trying to reassure her “You should get some rest.”
The sound of raised voices outside snapped her focus. She forced herself to her feet, ignoring Giselle’s protests. Pain rippled through her ribs, but she steadied herself against the post.
“I’ll rest when they stop arguing,” Ariana replied. Her voice was quiet but resolute. “This has to stop.”
She stepped outside, the cold air biting at her skin, waking her fully. The camp was alive with activity, fires flickering against the backdrop of the night. The murmur of voices and the distant crackle of tension hung heavy in the air.
Ariana scanned the camp, her eyes narrowing as she spotted the tent where the arguing persisted. She straightened, each step sharp and deliberate as she approached.
The Inquisition needed leadership, and if its leaders couldn’t rise to the occasion, then someone would have to remind them what they were fighting for.
She might not be the leader they were looking for, but the White Wolf had never needed permission to do what was right.
~~~
The argument continued to spiral, voices overlapping as frustration spilled into the open air.
“What would you have me tell them?” Cullen demanded, his tone sharper than usual. “This isn’t what we asked them to do!”
Cassandra squared her shoulders, her voice firm. “We cannot simply ignore this! We must find a way!”
Cullen turned to her, his brow furrowing deeper, frustration tightening his features. Guilt flickered beneath his words as he added, “We need a consensus, or we’ll tear ourselves apart before we can even move forward!”
“Please, we must use reason!” Josephine interjected, her tone placating but strained. “Without the infrastructure of the Inquisition, we’re hobbled!”
“That can’t come from nowhere!” Cullen retorted, throwing up his hands.
Leliana’s voice cut through, sharp and unyielding. “She didn’t say it could!”
“Enough!” Cassandra snapped, her patience wearing thin. “This is getting us nowhere!”
“Well, we’re agreed on that much!” Cullen shot back.
“Could you all stop bickering and make a decision?” Ariana’s voice cut through the chaos like a blade.
The group froze, turning to face her. They hadn’t noticed her approach, and the sight of her standing there—worn but resolute—rendered them momentarily speechless. Her gaze swept over them, sharp and unyielding, as if daring anyone to argue.
“You’re awake,” Cullen said, relief and something deeper flashing across his face, though his tone remained steady. For a brief moment, his guarded composure seemed to crack, his eyes tracing her as if to reassure himself that she was really there.
Ariana felt her heart skip a beat at the sight of him. Relief, guilt, and frustration swirled inside her, but she pushed it all down, focusing on the task at hand. “Didn’t have a choice,” she replied, her voice sharper than she intended. Crossing her arms despite the sharp protest from her ribs, she added, “I could hear you halfway across the camp. Do you honestly think this is helping anyone?”
Cassandra’s expression softened slightly, though her posture remained tense. “You should be resting.”
“And you should be leading, but here we are.” Ariana countered, her tone sharp as she turned her attention to Riley, standing off to the side of the table. “Riley, please tell me you haven’t just been sitting here watching this.”
Riley scoffed, her arms crossed as she stepped forward. “Of course not. Who do you take me for, Wolf? Who do you think has been keeping this camp together while this lot argued and you slept?”
The leaders all turned to Riley, their expressions a mix of surprise and embarrassment. It was as though they hadn’t noticed her presence until now.
Ariana chuckled softly, shaking her head. “I imagine they weren’t ready for that, were they?”
Riley grinned, her tone light but pointed. “Not even close. I’ve been running this camp since the avalanche, Wolf. Someone had to.”
“You sure you’re up for this?” Riley added with a smirk. “You look like you just fought an avalanche. Oh, wait…”
Ariana rolled her eyes, though a faint smirk crossed her lips. “What have you got for me?”
Riley approached the makeshift table, gesturing at the maps. “We’ve scavenged enough food and firewood for a couple of days. Found a fresh water source and have been collecting snow. Isabel’s sorted the remaining supplies from Haven, and I’ve got scouting parties charting all potential paths. So far, nothing concrete.”
“You have scouting parties and didn’t report to us?” Leliana interjected, her tone sharp.
Riley shot Leliana a glare, but Ariana cut in before the exchange could escalate. “She doesn’t have anything concrete yet, and honestly, I don’t blame her for not prioritizing more of this petty back-and-forth.”
The group exchanged uneasy glances, their expressions flickering between offense and regret.
“Any other options? Does anyone have another plan?” Ariana asked, her tone pointed.
Josephine stepped forward, her voice calmer now. “We’re trying to determine that, Herald. But with so much lost…”
Ariana exhaled slowly, her patience thinning. “Then decide,” she interrupted. “This isn’t the time for endless debates. Pick a path and commit to it, or we’ll lose whatever unity we have left.”
Her words landed heavily in the tense silence, a stark reminder of the stakes they faced. Cassandra was the first to respond, her nod sharp and deliberate. “You’re right. We need to move forward.”
Ariana gave a curt nod, her gaze sweeping over the group. “Good. Now, what’s the plan?”
Before anyone could answer, a calm, familiar voice interrupted. “Herald, if I may have a moment of your time?”
Ariana turned to see Solas approaching, his expression serene yet unreadable. She sighed, motioning toward the leadership. “Think about a plan, preferably without arguing. I’ll be back.”
She hesitated at the edge of the tent, casting a look back over her shoulder. “Riley, if they start arguing again, separate them. I don’t care how. Just make sure I don’t hear another word unless I’m standing on this crate.”
Riley smirked, saluting playfully. “By your order, Wolf.”
Ariana turned and followed Solas, leaving the leadership to grapple with the decisions they had long delayed. As she walked away, she allowed herself a small, fleeting smile at Riley’s unwavering confidence—proof that even in the chaos, some things remained certain.
~~~
Ariana followed Solas to the edge of the camp, away from the fires and the noise of arguing voices. The blizzard had finally eased, leaving a sharp chill in the air that bit at her exposed skin. Her breaths came shallow, each one a reminder of her battered ribs, but she pushed through the discomfort. Solas walked ahead, his steps deliberate, his hands clasped behind his back. He stopped near a cluster of frost-covered rocks, his gaze fixed on the horizon, though Ariana suspected he was looking far beyond it.
“You asked Corypheus what he was,” Solas began, his voice measured and calm, “and I suspect he gave you a rather unhelpful answer.”
Ariana crossed her arms, the movement stiff but grounding. “You could say that. Something about being Tevinter and seeing the throne of the gods.” She hesitated, the memory of Corypheus’s orb flashing in her mind. “Then there was that orb…” Her voice trailed off as a realization dawned. “You know what it is, don’t you?”
Solas turned his gaze to her, his expression unreadable. “The orb Corypheus carried, the power he used to open the Breach—it is Elvhen,” he said, the words heavy with meaning.
“Elvhen?” Ariana echoed, the curiosity in her tone tempered by a flicker of wariness. She had learned to tread carefully around ancient magic, particularly when it came to Solas.
He inclined his head, his voice low and steady. “Artifacts of my people. Foci, used to channel immense magical power. Such tools are not meant to be handled lightly, let alone by someone who does not understand their purpose. Corypheus’s use of the orb—” Solas paused, his expression darkening, “—likely caused the explosion that destroyed the Conclave. That he survived such recklessness… is troubling.”
Ariana frowned, the weight of his words settling over her. “You’re saying the Conclave was destroyed because Corypheus didn’t know what he was doing?”
“That, or he cared little for the consequences,” Solas replied. “The magic of Tevinter was built on the bones of the Elvhenan. It is crude, a shadow of what once was. He wields a power he cannot comprehend.”
Her fingers brushed against the mark on her hand, its faint glow casting shadows on the snow. “And yet here I am. Alive because of that power.”
“Perhaps,” Solas said, his tone softer now. “Or perhaps the mark chose you. There is meaning in that, though it may not yet be clear.”
Ariana studied him, her instincts prickling. “You seem to know a lot about this, Solas. About Corypheus, the orb, and the Breach. How?”
He met her gaze evenly, his expression as calm as ever. “The Fade holds many memories, Herald. I have walked its paths and glimpsed echoes of the past. I recognize what Corypheus carries because it is part of that past—my people’s past.”
She exhaled, shaking her head. “I don’t have time to dwell on ancient history or what Corypheus thinks he’s entitled to. Right now, we’re barely standing. Whatever that orb is, whatever its origin, we’ll deal with it when we’re not freezing to death.”
A faint smile touched Solas’s lips. “Pragmatic as always. And yet, pragmatism must be balanced with foresight. To ignore the threat Corypheus poses would be unwise.”
“I’m not ignoring it,” Ariana countered, her tone firm. “I’m prioritizing. If the Inquisition collapses, there won’t be anyone left to stop him.”
Solas inclined his head in acknowledgment. “A fair point. Which is why I sought you out. There is a place to the north—long abandoned, but waiting for a force to claim it. It is defensible, well-situated, and capable of sustaining what remains of the Inquisition. There, you could rebuild. Regrow.”
Ariana blinked, caught off guard by the certainty in his voice. “And you know this because…?”
Solas’s gaze drifted to the distant mountains, his expression distant. “Because I have walked many paths, Herald. Some of which others have long forgotten.”
She considered his words, weighing them carefully. Despite the frustration she often felt in his presence, she couldn’t deny the value of his knowledge. “Thank you, Solas,” she said finally, her voice sincere. “For everything.”
Solas inclined his head, his enigmatic expression giving away little. “I trust you will see the wisdom in what I have shared.”
Ariana nodded once before turning back toward the camp. As she walked away, the faint glow of her mark flickered against the snow, its light steady despite the storm within her.
Solas remained where he stood, his thoughts churning. By attacking the Inquisition, Corypheus has changed it. Changed her.
His gaze lingered on the retreating figure of the Herald—the White Wolf, as her Rangers called her. She was unlike anyone he had encountered in centuries. Pragmatic, yes, but also deeply compassionate. She questioned without judgment, challenged without cruelty. And then there was the mark—an anomaly even he had not anticipated.
“Perhaps there is hope after all,” he murmured to himself, turning back toward the fires. The Inquisition was fractured, but the pieces were beginning to align. Whether the world knew it or not, its fate was now entwined with hers.
~~~
As Ariana reached the heart of the camp, the quiet buzz of activity surrounded her, muted by the exhaustion that clung to every movement. A sharp voice broke through the stillness, piercing and full of emotion. “Ari!”
She turned just in time to see a small figure racing toward her. Emma flung herself into Ariana’s arms before she could brace herself, and the force of the hug sent a jolt of pain through her ribs. Ariana gritted her teeth but wrapped her arms around the girl, picking her up and holding her close despite the sharp ache radiating through her body. “Hey, cub,” she murmured softly, her voice steady. “What’s this for? You alright?”
Emma didn’t answer right away, her little arms tightening around Ariana’s neck. “I thought you were gone,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Everyone was saying…” Her words faltered, her face buried against Ariana’s shoulder. “I was so scared.”
Ariana’s heart clenched as she held Emma close. She adjusted her grip slightly, her ribs protesting, but she ignored the pain. “I’m not going anywhere, cub,” she said firmly. “See? I’m right here.”
Emma hesitated, her lip quivering. “I… I talked to Cullen. About… about what I said before. About you. I…” Her voice cracked slightly, and she buried her face into Ariana’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Ari. I was mean, and it wasn’t fair. I know it’s not your fault. I don’t blame you. Cullen said it was his fault.”
Ariana’s chest tightened further, though she quickly shifted to comfort Emma. She pulled her closer, resting her chin lightly atop Emma’s head. “Hey, listen to me,” she said, her tone low and reassuring. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for. I know it’s been hard, and I know I wasn’t always there to explain. But you didn’t do anything wrong, Emma. None of this is your fault, okay?”
Emma sniffled, her voice breaking. “But… but I—”
“No,” Ariana interrupted gently but firmly. “You don’t need to feel guilty for how you felt. It’s alright to be upset. It’s alright to ask questions. You’re brave, cub, braver than most people twice your size. And I’ll always love you, no matter what.”
Emma sniffled again, a small smile breaking through her tears as she nodded. “I love you too, Ari.”
Before Ariana could respond, a familiar voice called out from behind her. “Emma,” Cullen said, his tone warm but laced with concern as he approached. “There you are.”
Emma glanced back at him, then turned to Ariana again, her arms tightening around her. Cullen placed his hand lightly on Emma’s back. “You should let Ari rest,” he said gently. “She’s been through a lot.”
Emma hesitated, glancing between them. “But she’s okay, right?”
Ariana nodded, giving her a reassuring smile. “I’m okay, cub. You don’t have to worry about me.”
Cullen reached out, scooping Emma up into his arms with practiced ease. “Alright, let’s get you back to Isabel. She’s probably wondering where you ran off to.”
Ariana gave him a grateful smile, adjusting her stance to hide the pain in her ribs.
As Cullen straightened, Emma rested her head against his shoulder but cast one last look at Ariana. “Did you tell her yet?” she asked, her voice quiet but insistent.
Cullen froze for the briefest of moments, his expression caught between surprise and something unreadable. “Tell her what?” he asked, though his voice lacked its usual confidence.
Emma tilted her head, her gaze unwavering. “That you still love her.”
Ariana blinked, caught off guard by the bluntness of Emma’s question. Cullen’s jaw tightened, and a faint flush crept up his neck, but he managed to keep his tone steady as he said, “I did. Now let’s go find your mom.”
Emma sighed dramatically, her exasperation lightening the moment. “Really? Are you sure? You promise you did?”
Ariana chuckled softly, unable to prevent the warmth that spread through her as memories of the night she returned from Redcliffe surfaced in her mind.
Cullen glanced at Ariana, his expression softening despite his lingering embarrassment. “I promise,” he said gently.
Ariana watched them go, as she leaned against a nearby tent post, her breathing measured as she tried to ease the lingering pain from catching Emma.
She caught sight of Cullen returning from where he’d left Emma with Isabel, and as he approached, she straightened, already anticipating what was coming.
Cullen didn’t waste any time. He stopped in front of her and gently took her arm, guiding her out of view of the campfire and any prying eyes. His expression was firm, but his eyes brimmed with worry. “You should be resting. They’re broken again, aren’t they?” he asked quietly, though he already knew the answer.
Ariana sighed, rolling her shoulders back in a futile attempt to shrug it off. “One or two. Or three… It’s not important,” she replied lightly.
“Ari.” His tone stopped her. It wasn’t just concern—it was frustration, pain, and something deeper, rawer. “It is important.”
She hesitated, her eyes narrowing slightly, but Cullen pressed on. “Don’t tell me it’s not. I was there the last time you broke ribs. During the Qunari uprising, when you also nearly bled out while saying you were fine,” he said, his voice hard but edged with worry. “You were in bed for weeks, Ari. Weeks. You almost died.”
Her lips parted as if to argue, but she couldn’t. He was right. She remembered that time all too well—how she had spent nearly a week in his quarters in the Gallows, waking each time to find him by her side. She remembered the weight of his worry etched into his face.
“It’s not the same,” she muttered, though the conviction in her voice faltered. “I escaped an avalanche this time with only some broken rib–“
“No, it’s worse,” he countered, his hands tightening slightly on her shoulders. “I helped you almost get killed this time.” He took a deep breath, his voice softening. “Ari, I can’t do this again. I can’t lose you.”
He stepped closer, his hands settling on her shoulders as if grounding himself as much as her. “I couldn’t protect you,” he said, his voice low now. “Not in Haven, not in Kirkwall—Maker, not even when we were young during the Blight. And I’m tired of it. You’re always in danger, always bearing the brunt of everything, and I… I can’t do anything about it.”
Her expression softened at his words, the tension in her shoulders easing as she reached up, resting her hand against his cheek. “Cullen,” she said gently, her voice steady. “I’m here. I’m alive. And yes, I have some broken ribs, but I’ve survived worse. I told you before: fate and I have an understanding.” She paused, her gaze softening further. “But if it’s any comfort, I wouldn’t mind if next time you could intercept Emma before she jumps on me.”
Cullen’s lips twitched into a reluctant smile, though his eyes still carried the weight of his worry. “If it’ll keep you from breaking anything else, I’ll intercept her every time.”
Without a word, he slid an arm around her waist, pulling her closer. She didn’t resist, letting the warmth of his presence soothe the lingering ache in her chest that had nothing to do with her ribs. For a moment, they stood there, the noise of the camp fading into the background.
“I’ll always be here,” Cullen murmured, his forehead resting gently against hers. “No matter what.”
“I know,” she whispered, her voice steady despite the storm of emotions she felt. “And so will I.”
She held his gaze for a brief moment, letting herself find comfort in his arms. “So… I hear you have something to tell me?” she teased.
Cullen chuckled, shaking his head. “I do. More than Emma knows.”
Ariana tilted her head slightly, searching his eyes. Before she could question him further, he gently took her left hand, pulling off her glove. From his pocket, he pulled out the ring—her ring.
“Marry me.” His tone was more a statement than a question, steady and unshakable.
Ariana’s breath caught as she looked down at the ring, then back at him. She wasn’t sure if this was the time, but she couldn’t help the smile that came without a thought. The memory of the first time he proposed replaying in her mind. As he held her gaze, he slid the ring back onto her finger, and there was a quiet promise that this time there would be nothing that could keep him from her. She was his path, and he would choose her always.
Ariana looked down at her hand, now adorned with the familiar ring. “Yes,” she whispered, her voice steady but filled with emotion. “Always, yes.”
Cullen wrapped both his arms around her waist now, tightening his hold on her briefly, as if committing the moment to memory. Without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him, her lips meeting his with a force that carried the weight of everything she hadn’t been able to say these past few years.
The world fell away as Ariana melted into the kiss, and Cullen’s hands found the small of her back, pulling her closer. The pain in her ribs was forgotten, the kiss deepening into a mixture of love, relief, and renewed promises.
When they finally parted, Ariana rested her forehead against his, her breathing uneven, though she smiled softly. “I love you,” she said simply, her voice steady despite her racing heart.
Cullen’s eyes softened, his hands still at her waist. “And I love you,” he murmured, his voice raw but certain. “I always have.”
Unbeknownst to them, a small group had gathered nearby, curiosity piqued by the hushed tones and subdued expressions. As the kiss lingered, a single cheer broke the quiet. Then another. And another. Slowly, what sounded like the entire camp erupted into applause, whistles, and shouts of celebration, breaking the spell between them.
Ariana froze, her eyes wide, looking around briefly before burying her face in Cullen’s chest with a groan. “Well… that’s… I don’t think that proposal will qualify as a rumor,” she muttered, her voice muffled.
Cullen chuckled, the sound rich and warm, as he rested his chin lightly on the top of her head. “No,” he agreed, his tone laced with humor. “I don’t think it will.”
From the corner of her eye, Ariana caught sight of Varric standing with Riley and Dorian, all grinning far too wide for her comfort. Riley even raised a hand to salute her.
Next to them, Isabel carried Emma, who was cheering excitedly. “You told her!”
Cullen laughed, more genuinely than he had in a long time.
Ariana groaned again, the warmth in her cheeks growing unbearable. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”
“Oh, absolutely,” Cullen replied, a rare playful glint in his eyes as he glanced down at her. “And I don’t care who knows, Ari.”
“You’re the Commander of the Inquisition,” she muttered, still hiding her face. “I’m certain all of southern Thedas will know by week’s end, so I hope you mean that.” Despite herself, though, she couldn’t help but laugh softly, the sound blending with the cheers of the camp around them.
“The Commander of the Inquisition marrying the Herald of Andraste…” Cullen sighed, already imagining the fallout. But despite the thought, he didn’t care. “It seems fitting,” he chuckled.
If nothing else, this certainly made people forget the arguing of the last few hours. Now, the energy of the camp was buzzing with lightness and laughter—a stark contrast to the grim tension that had lingered since they fled Haven. For the first time since the Breach appeared, the Inquisition felt unified. Even if it came at her expense, Ariana thought wryly, perhaps this was exactly what they all needed.
~~~
Ariana and Cullen returned to the makeshift table where the Inquisition leadership had gathered. The tension from earlier had mostly dissipated, though it lingered faintly in the furrowed brows and crossed arms of those present. Ariana wasted no time explaining Solas’s suggestion, describing the fortress he had mentioned as a potential haven. Her explanation was peppered with the ongoing teasing and commentary from Josephine and Leliana, much to Cassandra’s mounting annoyance.
“I would appreciate it,” Cassandra interjected pointedly, her tone clipped, “if we could focus on the matter at hand.”
Leliana’s lips twitched into a sly smile. “I thought the matter at hand was quite literally on her hand.”
Cassandra’s glare could have melted steel, but Riley didn’t miss the opportunity to chime in. “Oh, come on, Seeker. I think we’re all a little curious. That was quite the camp spectacle. And no one ever witnessed the first proposal, it was very private.”
Josephine raised a hand to her lips, feigning thoughtfulness. “Perhaps we should debate the logistics of a proper celebration?”
Cassandra sighed audibly, rubbing her temple as though physically pained by the teasing. “Can we please focus?”
“Of course, Seeker,” Josephine replied smoothly, though the faintest hint of a smile tugged at her lips.
Solas approached the group, rolling out a map to display the approximate location of the fortress. He tapped a slender finger against a section of unmarked mountains. “Here,” he said, his tone calm yet confident. “Nothing on your maps indicates a settlement or structure, but I assure you, it is there. It has simply been… forgotten.”
“Conveniently forgotten,” Leliana murmured, her sharp gaze fixed on the map. “But if it exists, it may be our best chance.”
Ariana nodded, her focus shifting to Riley, who had joined them. She pointed to the area Solas indicated. “Riley, I need scouts dispatched immediately. Explore every possible path to this location and find the safest route. We’re not risking lives unnecessarily.”
Riley gave a quick nod, her expression resolute. “On it, Wolf. I’ll organize the Rangers and coordinate with Leliana’s scouts.”
As Riley strode off, already barking orders to nearby Rangers, the discussion shifted to logistics. Supplies, weather conditions, and the condition of the refugees all came under scrutiny. Cullen gestured toward Isabel, who stood near a cluster of crates with a clipboard in hand, already directing a small group of volunteers.
“Isabel,” Ariana called, making her way over to her. Cullen followed, his expression steady but intent. “We need to talk logistics. You’ve already got a handle on the supplies?”
Isabel looked up, her blonde hair falling slightly from its braid as she adjusted her grip on the clipboard. “I’ve started organizing what’s left,” she replied. “It’s not pretty, but it’s something. We’ve got enough rations for three days if we stretch it, maybe four if we’re clever.”
“Then clever it is,” Cullen said firmly, crossing his arms. “We need rationing priorities. Children and anyone who can’t move quickly get what they need first. Everyone else will need to make do with less.”
Isabel nodded, jotting something down. “That’s already in the works. I’ve got people splitting the food evenly for now, but I’ll adjust the portions as you’ve said. Water’s trickier, though—we’re relying on fresh snow and a small stream nearby. I’ve got some Rangers and soldiers rotating shifts to bring it in, but it’s slow.”
Ariana frowned, leaning over the list in Isabel’s hands. “Can we set up any sort of waystation along the path?” she asked. “Somewhere we can leave supplies to lighten the load?”
Isabel tapped her quill against the clipboard thoughtfully. “Maybe. If Riley’s scouts find a solid route, I can organize drop points along the way. We’d need enough hands to carry the supplies back and forth without slowing everyone else down.”
“I’ll assign soldiers to assist with that,” Cullen said quickly, his tone decisive. “Focus on speed and efficiency—we can’t afford to waste time or resources. And we’ll need forward teams to clear the path. Any signs of instability in the terrain, we reroute immediately.”
Their voices overlapped briefly, neither seeming to mind as their ideas wove together seamlessly. Orders were given, adjusted, and refined without a single argument. Soldiers and Rangers alike moved with renewed purpose, their trust in the pair evident in the way they followed every instruction without question.
Leliana leaned closer to Cassandra, her sharp eyes observing the interaction. “They work well together,” she remarked quietly.
“Too well,” Cassandra muttered, though there was no real edge to her words. “It’s almost infuriating.”
“Almost,” Josephine added with a smile, her gaze flicking to Ariana and Cullen. “But you have to admit, it’s effective.”
Between the two of them, the camp transformed. Supplies were inventoried, scouting parties dispatched, and routes debated with precision and efficiency. The arguments from earlier felt like a distant memory as the leadership united under the shared goal of survival.
Ariana and Cullen’s dynamic was impossible to ignore. They complemented each other so naturally that even the most skeptical of onlookers had to admit the strength of their partnership. Where one spoke, the other listened. Where one led, the other supported. Together, they commanded the respect and trust of soldiers, Rangers, and villagers alike.
As the last orders were given and the camp settled into action, Cullen glanced at Ariana. “We’ll get them there,” he said quietly, his tone carrying an unshakable conviction.
Ariana met his gaze, her expression softening for a moment. “I know,” she replied simply. “We always do.”
For the first time since the Breach appeared, the Inquisition felt not only like a cause but like a force to be reckoned with—a family bound by more than survival. They were ready to face whatever came next, together.