Author: lostfigment

  • Chapter 84 – The Heartbreak of Wisdom

    27 Solace – 12 August 9:41

    Ariana and Frederick strolled through the winding paths of Skyhold, the morning sun casting soft light over the fortress walls. The cool breeze carried the scent of fresh earth and mountain air, mingling with the distant clatter of training swords in the courtyard. Ariana felt lighter than she had in weeks, the weight of her responsibilities momentarily forgotten in the company of someone who knew her before all of this—before the titles, the wars, the mark glowing on her hand.

    “So, how long are you staying?” Ariana asked, glancing sideways at Frederick with a hopeful smile.

    Frederick chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “Likely just a week. I promised my father I wouldn’t be gone too long.”

    Ariana groaned dramatically. “A week? That’s hardly enough time. Stay longer. Maker knows I could use your help with all these nobles cluttering up Skyhold.”

    Frederick raised an eyebrow, amused. “Help? With your charm and wit? I think you’ve got it well in hand.”

    Ariana nudged him playfully. “Come on, Fred. I’ll even give you an official position in the Inquisition. Advisor to Noble Affairs. Has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

    Frederick laughed, shaking his head. “And what would the esteemed Commander think of that?”

    Ariana smirked. “Oh, he’d love it. Someone else to handle the nobles so he doesn’t have to.”

    They walked in comfortable silence for a moment, the familiar rhythm of their friendship easing Ariana’s mind. Then, curiosity tugged at her.

    “So,” she began, glancing at him from the corner of her eye, “anyone special in your life yet?”

    Frederick sighed, his smile dimming slightly. “Not really. Everyone I meet is more interested in becoming the next Duchess of Markham than in me.” He shrugged, his gaze drifting ahead. “None of them are as uninterested in the title as you were. And none of them seem to care for me the way you did.”

    Ariana’s chest tightened with guilt. She wondered if, despite everything, Frederick still held onto feelings for her. Had she been making it worse by being so unguarded with him?

    She opened her mouth to say something, but Frederick beat her to it.

    “Ari,” he said gently, stopping to face her. His eyes were soft, filled with the warmth of years of friendship. “I’m not in love with you anymore.”

    Ariana blinked, the relief washing over her tempered by the tenderness in his voice.

    “I’ll always love you,” Frederick continued, a small, wistful smile tugging at his lips. “But I’m not in love with you. I just…” He paused, searching for the right words. “I just wish I could find someone like you. Someone who cares less about titles and more about the person behind them.”

    Ariana’s smile returned, genuine and affectionate. “Maybe you’re just looking in the wrong places, Fred.”

    He chuckled, the tension easing from his shoulders. “Maybe.”

    They resumed walking, the conversation flowing naturally once more.

    “Stay with me,” Ariana said suddenly, glancing up at him. “Join the Inquisition. Or the Silver Rangers. If you need an excuse, just tell your father you’re representing Markham’s interests—and those of the Free Marches.”

    Frederick hesitated, his steps slowing. He looked out over the sprawling courtyard, the soldiers training, the banners fluttering in the wind. Then he looked back at Ariana, something soft and resolute settling in his expression.

    “You know…” he began, his voice thoughtful. “That might be exactly what I need.”

    He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek. “Thank you, Ari.”

    Ariana smiled, her heart light. As the moment passed, they fell back into easy conversation, their steps leading them toward the garden as they began to discuss her wedding—what she wanted it to be, and how, with Frederick’s help, it might just turn out perfect.

    ~~~

    Leliana and Josephine stood on the stairs leading to the main hall, their conversation paused as their eyes followed the familiar figures of Ariana and Frederick strolling through the courtyard below. The late morning sun cast a warm glow on them, illuminating the easy smiles and relaxed body language between the two. From their vantage point, the distance muffled any words, but the visual told its own story.

    “They look… close,” Leliana observed, her sharp eyes narrowing slightly as she watched Frederick lean in to murmur something that made Ariana laugh, her head tipping back with unguarded ease.

    Josephine nodded slowly, her brow furrowed. “Cullen told me Frederick is the man Ariana was once engaged to. But he’s also her best friend. They grew up together.”

    Leliana’s gaze didn’t waver, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Engaged and best friend,” she repeated softly, as if testing how the words tasted together. “That’s… a complicated foundation.”

    As they continued to watch, Frederick paused, his hand resting lightly on Ariana’s shoulder before he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek. Ariana’s smile only widened, and she reached up to squeeze his hand in return before they continued walking.

    Josephine’s breath hitched, her eyes widening slightly. “Oh dear,” she murmured, glancing at Leliana. “Did you see that?”

    “I did,” Leliana replied, her voice cool but tinged with curiosity—and something else. Concern, perhaps.

    They both fell silent, watching the pair disappear around the corner, their easy camaraderie lingering like a shadow.

    “Ariana…” Leliana began slowly, “is different with him.”

    Josephine nodded, her lips pursing slightly. “She is more… unguarded. Lighter.”

    Leliana nodded, her expression unreadable. “And what does that mean for Cullen?”

    Josephine hesitated, considering her words carefully. “Cullen knows. He’s aware of their history. But…” Her voice trailed off as her mind replayed the ease between Ariana and Frederick, the way Ariana’s smile seemed freer, less burdened.

    “But you’re wondering if there’s trouble brewing,” Leliana finished, her tone neutral, though her eyes were anything but.

    “It would be hard not to,” Josephine admitted softly. “Their bond… it’s deep. Familiar. And Cullen…” She sighed, her heart aching slightly for the man who had stood by Ariana through so much. “Cullen’s love is steady. Strong. But…”

    “But familiarity can stir old feelings,” Leliana concluded, her voice gentle but firm. “Especially when one is vulnerable.”

    “Their engagement brought much-needed unity and morale after Haven,” Josephine said quietly. “It gave people hope, a symbol of stability amidst the chaos. If there were to be… rumors…”

    Leliana’s gaze hardened. “It could fracture more than just their personal lives. The Inquisition relies on the strength of its leaders.”

    Josephine nodded. “And visiting nobles, envoys… they watch everything. They scrutinize every interaction. If they perceive trouble between Ariana and Cullen, it could undermine our alliances.”

    Leliana tilted her head, her sharp eyes following Ariana and Frederick as they disappeared around a corner. “We will need to watch this closely,” she said softly. “For everyone’s sake.”

    Josephine nodded again, though the worry in her chest remained. “For everyone’s sake,” she echoed, her thoughts lingering on the delicate balance they were all trying to maintain.

    They stood there in silence, the weight of their thoughts settling between them as they considered what they’d witnessed—and what it might mean for the Inquisitor’s heart.

    ~~~

    Cullen moved through the halls of Skyhold, his mind focused on the day’s tasks. Reports to review, patrols to reorganize, and meetings to attend—the usual rhythm of command. But as he passed a group of soldiers lingering near the training yard, their hushed voices caught his attention.

    “…heard the Inquisitor ended things with the Commander. Saw her with that noble… what’s his name? Lord Decken?”

    “Yeah, they’re always together lately. Laughing, sneaking off. Doesn’t look good.”

    Cullen’s steps slowed, the words sinking in. He felt no jealousy—not even a flicker of doubt. He knew exactly where he stood with Ariana. He spent his nights with her, felt the way she curled into him when the world became too heavy. There was no question of her love for him.

    But still, the rumors bothered him.

    Not because they threatened his relationship with Ariana—but because he realized now, more than ever, that their wedding couldn’t come soon enough.

    Later that day, as he approached the war room, he heard familiar voices through the slightly ajar door.

    “…I’m just saying,” Josephine’s voice drifted through, “their bond seems… different with Lord Decken around. It could cause concern among the nobles.”

    “And among the Inquisition,” Leliana added softly. “If people believe there’s trouble between the Commander and the Inquisitor… it could fracture morale.”

    Cullen pushed the door open fully, his expression calm but firm. “There’s nothing more than a friendship between Ariana and Frederick.”

    Josephine and Leliana turned, momentarily startled. But Josephine quickly recovered, her expression shifting to one of polite diplomacy.

    “If that’s true,” she said gently, “we may need to begin focusing on your wedding.”

    Cullen raised an eyebrow. “Our wedding?”

    “Yes,” Josephine continued, her tone measured. “It’s not just about the two of you. The people—both within the Inquisition and our allies—need to see that you and Ariana are steady. Together. Your engagement brought a sense of unity after Haven. It gave them hope.”

    Leliana nodded in agreement. “You both became symbols of resilience. If rumors start to suggest otherwise… it could undermine everything we’ve built.”

    Cullen sighed, running a hand through his hair. He hated political maneuvering. But he understood it. More importantly, he understood the morale their relationship had brought to their forces—the light in the darkness after Haven.

    “I’ll talk to Ariana,” he said finally, his voice steady. “But…” He hesitated, realizing now that he might need to defend whatever choice Ariana made for their wedding. “I’m not certain she was planning to have the wedding in Skyhold.”

    Josephine offered a sympathetic smile. “Sometimes, Commander, the right choice isn’t always the easiest.”

    Cullen nodded, the weight of the conversation settling on his shoulders. But as he left the war room, his resolve was clear.

    No matter what, he would stand by Ariana’s side—through the rumors, the politics, and whatever shadows lingered in their path. Because their love wasn’t just a symbol.

    It was the truth.

    ~~~

    Ariana stood near the throne in the main hall of Skyhold, her arms crossed, tapping her foot lightly against the stone floor. Frederick lounged casually beside her, while Dorian, ever the picture of elegance, sipped from a goblet, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

    “You know,” Dorian began, his voice smooth and far too amused for Ariana’s liking, “if you’re truly interested in quelling these ridiculous rumors, a grand public gesture is the only way.”

    Ariana rolled her eyes, exhaling sharply. “I’m not sure about ‘grand,’ but something, perhaps.”

    “Oh, come now,” Frederick chimed in, his grin infectious. “You’re not one to shy away from theatrics when it suits you.”

    She shot him a playful glare, but couldn’t deny the truth in his words. The rumors had been swirling for days—whispers about her and Frederick, the nature of their relationship, and what it meant for her engagement to Cullen. She knew the truth, and Cullen knew the truth, but Skyhold’s walls had a way of magnifying harmless interactions into scandalous tales.

    And the more she thought about it, the more she realized… Cullen had been busy. She had been distracted. They hadn’t spent much time together, especially in public.

    “Fine,” Ariana sighed, her lips curling into a determined smile. “If nothing else, I’ll wait here and remind everyone exactly who I’m madly in love with.”

    Dorian’s grin widened. “That’s the spirit, darling.”

    Moments later, the door from Josephine’s office to the hall creaked open, and Cullen stepped inside, flanked by Josephine and Leliana. His eyes scanned the room instinctively, but they stopped the moment they landed on Ariana.

    Their gazes locked across the hall, and a slow, knowing smile spread across Ariana’s face. Cullen returned it, his expression softening in that way it always did when he looked at her.

    Without another thought, Ariana took off, her boots echoing against the stone as she sprinted toward him. The chatter in the hall died down, all eyes turning to watch the Inquisitor rush toward her Commander.

    Cullen’s eyes widened in surprise, but his arms were already outstretched as she leapt into them. He caught her effortlessly, the momentum carrying her into a kiss that stole the breath from both of them.

    The hall seemed to disappear. The murmurs faded into nothing. For that brief moment, there was only Cullen’s warmth, his steady hands holding her like she was the only thing anchoring him to the world.

    When they finally pulled apart, Cullen’s forehead rested against hers, his voice a low, teasing whisper. “And what was that for?”

    Ariana smiled, her fingers trailing lightly along his jaw. “I needed you to know… you’re still the only man I would ever want to marry.”

    Cullen chuckled softly, his breath warm against her skin. “I already knew that.” His eyes sparkled with quiet amusement. “So, was it me you were telling… or the world?”

    Ariana pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, her smile never faltering. “Maybe both.”

    Cullen tightened her grip on her, but before he could respond, Ariana added, her tone softer now, “What would you say to a Skyhold wedding? Sooner rather than later.”

    “Well,” Josephine murmured towards Leliana, her tone light but clearly relieved, “that should help assuage any concerns.”

    Leliana chuckled quietly. “Indeed. I imagine the nobles will have a much harder time stirring rumors now.”

    Ariana sighed, shaking her head as she leaned into Cullen’s side. “This is ridiculous,” she muttered under her breath, her voice just loud enough for him to hear.

    Cullen smiled softly, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Maybe,” he whispered back, “but I won’t mind catching you every time you decide to handle rumors this way.”

    Ariana’s heart warmed, not because the rumors were silenced, but because through all of it, Cullen had never doubted her for even a moment. And that—more than anything—was all she needed.

    ~~~

    Ariana and Cullen walked out of the main hall, hand in hand. The whispers of gathered nobles followed them as they went, but Ariana barely heard them now. She was happy that quelling rumors had been this easy—this time. What she wasn’t happy about was that it had been necessary at all.

    Not that she minded running into his arms. She loved the way he always caught her, like it was the most natural thing in the world. The way everything else faded around them in those moments. But as they made their way to the battlements, an uneasy silence settled over her, wrapping tighter with each step.

    When they reached the overlook, Ariana finally broke it. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly, her tone more resigned than she intended.

    Cullen’s brow furrowed as he turned to her, his confusion genuine. “For what?”

    Ariana sighed, leaning against the battlements, her gaze drifting over the horizon. “Underestimating the rumors again… I guess.”

    Cullen chuckled softly, stepping closer. His arms wrapped around her waist, grounding her in his warmth. “You don’t have to apologize, Ari.”

    “I do,” she insisted, her voice tightening. “Maker, I just didn’t think…” She took a deep breath, trying to steady the guilt gnawing at her chest. “I heard the soldiers, Cullen. The Rangers have been reporting hearing ridiculous, scandalous rumors coming from the troops. It’s only been a few days, and yet…”

    “Ari,” Cullen interrupted gently, lifting a hand to her chin and guiding her to meet his gaze. His eyes were steady, unwavering. “We’re no strangers to rumors. We’ll handle it. Like we always do.”

    Ariana tried to smile, but it felt weak, unconvincing even to herself. She appreciated his words, his calm, but it didn’t ease the gnawing guilt. The idea that anyone—even for a second—could believe she didn’t love this man more than anything twisted in her chest.

    “But… the wedding, Cullen,” she whispered, her gaze drifting back toward the main hall. “It now has to become this grand spectacle just to reassure everyone else that the Inquisitor and Commander are still…”

    “The wedding will be whatever you want it to be, love,” Cullen interrupted firmly, his fingers brushing a loose strand of hair from her face. “Wherever you want it. Josephine will just have to handle the communications around however we decide to do it.”

    Ariana’s smile returned, softer this time, more genuine. But the hesitation lingered in her eyes. “But what if—”

    “It doesn’t matter,” Cullen assured her, cutting off her worries with a kiss.

    Ariana melted into him, letting herself get lost in the certainty of his touch, the promise in his lips. The passion burned away the lingering guilt, leaving only the steadfast comfort of knowing that this was unshakable.

    When they finally pulled apart, Cullen rested his forehead against hers, his voice a soft whisper. “We’ll figure this out.”

    Ariana closed her eyes, letting the warmth of his words settle over her. “Together.”

    Just as the warmth of the moment settled between them, a loud, awkward cough echoed from behind. They pulled apart slightly, turning to see a young soldier standing a few steps away, his face flushed with embarrassment as he clutched a parchment in his hands.

    “I… um… Commander, Inquisitor,” the soldier stammered, clearly wishing he were anywhere else. “I have… uh… a report for you.”

    Ariana sighed, a wry smile tugging at her lips as she rested her forehead against Cullen’s one last time. “Duty calls,” she murmured.

    Cullen chuckled, squeezing her hand gently before turning to the soldier. “Let’s have it, then.”

    As the soldier nervously handed over the parchment and quickly retreated, Ariana shook her head, laughing softly. “Remind me again why we thought leading an Inquisition would be a good idea?”

    Cullen grinned, slipping an arm around her waist as they started back inside. “Because even with a thousand things pulling at us… we still have this.”

    Ariana leaned into him, her heart lighter despite the weight of everything around them. “And that’s more than enough.”

    ~~~

    As Ariana made her way back toward the main hall, leaving Cullen to handle his endless parade of soldiers and reports, she caught sight of Solas, sitting at his desk, looking rather unsettled. His gaze was distant, and he stared at the cup of tea in front of him as if it held answers to questions he couldn’t quite grasp.

    “Is there something wrong with your tea, Solas?” she asked curiously, stepping into the room.

    Solas glanced up, his expression one of mild annoyance. “It is tea. I detest the stuff.”

    Ariana tilted her head in confusion, wondering why he was drinking it if he disliked it so much. But before she could question it, Solas spoke again, his tone shifting to something far more urgent.

    “Inquisitor,” he said, his voice firmer than she’d ever heard it. “I need a favor.”

    Ariana’s brow furrowed as she stepped closer. Solas rarely made requests, and when he did, it was always with measured calm. This was different. “What is it?” she asked, her voice steady but tinged with curiosity.

    Solas stood from his chair, his usual composure cracking just enough to reveal the urgency beneath. “One of my oldest friends has been captured by mages, forced into slavery. I heard the cry for help as I slept.”

    “Captured?” Ariana’s expression hardened. “What kind of mages are we talking about? Blood magic?”

    “No,” Solas replied quickly. “A summoning circle, I would imagine. A trap designed to bind and enslave.”

    Ariana’s eyes narrowed as she pieced together his meaning. “I see. A spirit, then?”

    “Yes,” Solas said, relief flickering across his face that she understood so quickly. “My friend is a spirit of wisdom. Unlike the spirits clamoring to enter our world through the rifts, this one was dwelling quite happily in the Fade. It was summoned against its will and wants my help to gain its freedom and return to the Fade.”

    Ariana folded her arms, considering his words. Spirits summoned against their will were a dangerous situation, both for the spirit and for the world it was brought into. “Where is your friend being held?”

    “I got a sense of its location before I awoke,” Solas explained. “They are in the Exalted Plains.”

    “The Exalted Plains?” Ariana’s voice rose slightly, her concern evident. “That’s Orlais’ battlefield right now, Solas. The civil war has made that place a death trap.”

    Solas nodded grimly. “I am aware. That is why I need your help. Without the Inquisition’s aid, my friend is lost.”

    Ariana’s resolve hardened. “Of course I’ll help. We’ll figure it out. But we’ll need support if we’re heading into the Exalted Plains. Come with me.”

    Solas inclined his head in gratitude, falling into step beside her as they made their way toward the war room. As they walked, Ariana flagged down a pair of guards and gave them swift instructions to fetch Cullen, Leliana, and Riley. She caught sight of Josephine heading down another corridor and quickly called her over as well. By the time they reached the war room, her advisors were already gathering, their curiosity piqued by the urgency of her summons.

    Ariana and Solas stood over a map of Orlais, studying the intricacies of the Exalted Plains and its many dangers. When Cullen, Leliana, Riley, and Josephine arrived, they found the two already deep in discussion, their faces etched with determination.

    “Inquisitor,” Cullen greeted her, his gaze flicking briefly to Solas. “Is something the matter?”

    Ariana straightened, her hand resting on the edge of the table. “I need a path through the Exalted Plains to this point,” she said, pointing to a specific location on the map. “And I need it as quickly as possible.”

    The advisors exchanged uneasy glances, their expressions a mixture of confusion and concern. Cullen was the first to speak, his voice cautious but firm. “Inquisitor, the Exalted Plains is no small matter. The civil war there has created a battlefield—one that’s volatile and unpredictable. We’d be sending troops into an active war zone.”

    “I know,” Ariana replied, her tone resolute as she leaned over the map. “I don’t know that troops are the answer. A small group can probably move faster without being noticed. But I need a plan, Cullen. That’s all I’m asking for. I’ll take it from there.”

    Riley, ever the picture of calm, asked the obvious question. “And you need to go there because…?”

    Ariana looked towards her. “One of Solas’ friends has been captured. Will likely be tortured or worse if we don’t rescue them.”

    Leliana folded her arms, her sharp gaze narrowing. “Solas’s friend must be quite important for you to demand such urgency, Inquisitor. Is there more we should know about this rescue?”

    Ariana hesitated for a split second, then shook her head. “It’s personal, Leliana. Solas has been one of our most steadfast allies, and I’m not about to abandon his friend to whatever fate awaits them.”

    Josephine tilted her head, her brow furrowed in thought. “Carving a path through the Exalted Plains will require careful negotiation with local forces, or brute force. Neither will be quick.”

    “We don’t have time for negotiations,” Ariana said, her tone brooking no argument. “Riley, do we have any Rangers nearby? I’m thinking that might be our fastest path. Solas and I leave in the morning. Do whatever it takes to get us there, and quickly.”

    Riley stood over the map thinking over the question. “There’s a group of scouts near Verchiel, but they’re just scouts, Wolf.”

    Cullen sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he studied the map. “It won’t be easy, but I’ll coordinate with your scouts to identify the safest route. I’ll send soldiers to clear a path as discreetly as possible.”

    “I’ll deploy agents to gather intelligence on troop movements in the area,” Leliana added, her voice tinged with skepticism. “But, Inquisitor, you’re asking us to commit resources to an uncharted area for reasons you’ve only vaguely explained. That won’t go unnoticed.”

    “Let it be noticed,” Ariana said sharply, her gaze darting to Leliana. “This isn’t about appearances. It’s about helping those who need our help.”

    Josephine placed a gentle hand on the table, her tone diplomatic but firm. “And yet, every move we make sends a message, whether we intend it to or not. Perhaps we can frame this as an Inquisition effort to stabilize the region.”

    “Do what you must,” Ariana said, standing straight and pulling her cloak tighter around her shoulders. “But the path is my priority. The rest is secondary.”

    Solas, who had remained silent up until now, inclined his head slightly. “Thank you, Inquisitor,” he said quietly. “You honor me with your urgency.”

    Ariana offered him a small smile, then turned back to her advisors. “I trust you’ll make it happen.”

    Cullen nodded reluctantly, already mentally formulating a plan. “You’ll have your path,” he said firmly. “But I’ll be sending soldiers with you, Ari. You’re walking into a battlefield. I won’t have you and Solas going in unprotected.”

    “Very well,” she agreed, her tone softening as her gaze lingered on Cullen for a moment. “Though I still believe a small group will go unnoticed for longer.”

    With that, the advisors began to disperse, already setting plans into motion. Ariana turned back to Solas, who watched her with a quiet intensity.

    “We leave at first light,” she told him.

    Solas inclined his head again. “I will prepare.” With that, he slipped out of the room, leaving Ariana alone with her thoughts for a moment before she headed toward her quarters to prepare for the journey ahead.

    ~~~

    Ariana had recruited Dorian and Cole to join them, figuring they’d be the most likely to understand the situation without judgment. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust her other people, but most weren’t the most open-minded when it came to spirits and the Fade. She reasoned that Cole, being a spirit himself, would understand and appreciate them rescuing another spirit. And Dorian… well, Dorian was just himself. He was more open-minded about almost everything.

    As they reached the Exalted Plains, they began finding Inquisition scouts, soldiers, and Rangers guiding them through the safe path to the ruins they needed. Ariana had the soldiers hold a perimeter further away from the ruins, again, wanting to ensure no one who might not understand witnessed the situation or tried to interfere.

    The group approached the ruins cautiously, following the faint, pulsing residue of magic that clung to the air like a heavy mist. Solas led the way, his stride purposeful, though Ariana could see the tension in his shoulders. She glanced at Dorian and Cole, who followed silently, their faces reflecting the weight of what lay ahead.

    When they arrived, the scene was chaos. The remnants of a summoning circle scorched the ground, its fading glow surrounded by bloodied rocks and crumbled debris. A group of mages, haggard and desperate, stood huddled together. One of them, a man in his mid-thirties with dark circles under his eyes, stumbled forward when he saw them.

    “A mage! You’re not with the bandits?” the man asked, his voice frantic. “Do you have any lyrium potions? Most of us are exhausted. We’ve been fighting that demon—”

    “You summoned that demon!” Solas’s voice cut through the man’s words, sharp as steel. “Except it was a spirit of wisdom at the time. You made it kill. You twisted it against its purpose.”

    The mage flinched at Solas’s tone. “I… I… I understand how it might be confusing to someone who has not studied demons,” he stammered, his eyes darting nervously. “I was one of the foremost experts in the Kirkwall Circle. After you help us, I can—”

    “We are not here to help you.” Solas’s words carried finality, his piercing gaze silencing the mage.

    “The Kirkwall Circle?” Ariana echoed, her voice icy. “I’m not sure I’d use that to prove your expertise… I was there.”

    The mage looked up, startled, but Ariana’s cutting tone gave him no room to respond. Her expression hardened, a mix of anger and disdain. “Also, word of advice? I’d hold off on explaining how demons work to my friend here. And we’re here to help the spirit, not you.”

    She turned her attention to Solas, her voice softening slightly. “What can we do?”

    Solas’s glare didn’t waver as he addressed the mage. “You summoned it to protect you from the bandits.”

    “I—Yes.”

    “You bound it to obedience, then commanded it to kill. That is when it turned.”

    Ariana’s brow furrowed as she considered the problem. “So if we break the summoning circle, would it break the binding?”

    Solas nodded. “No orders to kill, no conflict with its nature, no demon.”

    The mage’s panic grew. “What? The binding is the only—”

    But Solas and Ariana ignored him. “Could I use the mark to overload the binding more quickly?” Ariana asked.

    “Yes,” Solas replied, his voice calmer now. “That should work. Thank you.”

    Together, they worked to break the summoning circle, Ariana using the mark to disrupt the residual magic while Solas and Dorian dismantled its anchors with precise spells. The ground trembled as the circle shattered, releasing a burst of energy that left them momentarily blinded.

    When the light faded, the demon stood before them, but its form began to dissolve. What had been a monstrous, twisted creature slowly reverted to something faintly luminous and ethereal—a spirit. But the corruption lingered, faint cracks of darkness running through its form.

    Solas knelt beside the spirit, speaking to it in Elven, his tone reverent yet heavy with grief. Ariana caught only fragments of the words: comfort, friend, peace. The spirit’s light flickered, and then it dissipated, leaving behind an aching stillness.

    “I’m sorry, Solas,” Ariana said softly, her voice sincere.

    “Don’t be,” he replied, his tone quieter. “We gave it a moment’s peace before the end. That’s more than it might have had.”

    His gaze shifted, darkening as it landed on the mages. “Now all that remains is them.”

    “Thank you,” the lead mage said, stepping forward as though expecting gratitude. “We would not have risked a summoning, but the roads are too dangerous to travel unprotected.”

    “You’re a mage!” Ariana snapped, her anger reigniting. “You were never unprotected! You could have protected yourselves without attempting to summon anything.”

    Solas straightened, his expression cold and unyielding. He began to walk toward the mages, his movements deliberate. The group of mages recoiled, stepping backward as fear overtook them.

    “You tortured and killed my friend,” Solas said, his voice low and brimming with fury.

    “We didn’t know it was just a spirit!” the lead mage protested, his voice breaking. “The book said it could help us!”

    Ariana’s gaze hardened as she looked toward Dorian and Cole, motioning silently for them to step away. She turned, her back to the unfolding confrontation, her thoughts conflicted. She didn’t doubt what Solas was about to do, but she couldn’t bring herself to stop it. If this had been a person tortured and killed, no one would question justice being served. And for Solas, this was no different.

    Solas raised his staff, his intent unmistakable. The mages scrambled, pleading and shouting, but there was no hesitation in his eyes. Ariana walked away, hearing the faint sounds of magic crackle and die behind her as Solas carried out his vengeance.

    Some lines should never be crossed. And the mages had crossed them.

    Dorian broke the tense silence as they walked away from the scene, his tone laced with curiosity and a hint of disbelief. “So… you really are going to let him kill those mages?”

    Ariana’s steps didn’t falter as she replied, her voice measured but pointed. “If someone had tortured and killed Felix, would you let me stop you?”

    Dorian opened his mouth to respond but then closed it again, considering her words. Finally, he let out a quiet sigh, his tone resigned. “I… no. Point taken.”

    Cole, walking a few steps ahead, turned slightly, his expression distant but contemplative. “Everything here was blurry. It wanted to forget, but now the rocks were solid,” he said softly, his words hanging in the air. Despite the cryptic phrasing, Ariana understood the essence of what he meant—the spirit’s torment had left an indelible mark on the world, even after its passing.

    Solas returned to the group a few minutes later, his stride slower but his presence no less commanding. His expression was a careful mask, but the shadow of sorrow lingered in his eyes. “Thank you,” he said simply, his voice quiet. “I… need some time alone. I will meet you back in Skyhold.”

    Ariana nodded, her understanding unspoken. “Take whatever time you need,” she said. “Scout Harding is keeping an eye on the area if you need anything.”

    Solas inclined his head in gratitude, then turned and walked back toward the ruins without another word. His figure soon disappeared into the misty terrain, leaving the group to their own thoughts.

    Ariana glanced toward the soldiers Cullen had sent to stabilize the region. She felt a small measure of relief knowing they were already here, ensuring the area wouldn’t descend into further chaos while Solas remained behind. Though she knew he was more than capable of handling himself, she couldn’t help but feel an unease she couldn’t quite name. There’s more to him than he lets on, she thought, though she wasn’t ready to question it—not yet.

    As the group began their return journey, Ariana turned to Scout Harding, who was waiting nearby. “Keep an eye out for Solas,” she instructed. “If he needs anything, make sure he gets it. And send word to Skyhold that we’re heading back.”

    Harding nodded. “Understood, Inquisitor. And… I’ll make sure the area is secure. It looks like the soldiers are settling in well.”

    “Good.” Ariana glanced toward the distant horizon, her thoughts already shifting to Cullen. She knew he’d be worried about her, and the thought of seeing him again brought a flicker of warmth amidst the heavy weight of the day’s events.

    With that, the group set off, the tension of the Exalted Plains gradually fading behind them. But Ariana knew the memory of what had transpired here—and what Solas had lost—would linger long after they returned to Skyhold.

    ~~~

    When Ariana and her group arrived back at Skyhold, she barely had time to hand off her reins before Cullen appeared, his expression stormy. His eyes locked onto hers, and without a word, he grabbed her arm—firm but not painful—and led her toward the war room. She followed, letting out a quiet sigh, already bracing herself. This is going to be about the spirit.

    Inside the war room, Leliana, Josephine, and Riley were already waiting, their faces a mixture of curiosity and concern. The moment the door shut behind them, Cullen rounded on her, his frustration barely contained.

    “A demon, Inquisitor?” he began, his voice sharp—not quite a yell, but laden with frustration that cut deeper than volume alone.

    “A spirit of wisdom,” she corrected smoothly, keeping her tone calm, even light, hoping to diffuse the tension.

    “We mobilized a contingent of soldiers and scouts to clear a path through a war zone so you could go find a demon?” His words came rapid-fire, a commander’s reprimand in full force.

    “A spirit,” she corrected again, her expression unruffled, though she caught the faint flicker of amusement on Leliana’s face at her calm defiance.

    But Cullen wasn’t deterred. “Do you realize the amount of work we all had to do for Orlais not to see this as an invasion? Months of diplomacy on thin ice, and you could have shattered it over this?”

    “You’re the one that wanted to send soldiers with me,” she countered, her tone still measured, though she knew full well it wasn’t going to sit well with him.

    His jaw tightened, and his voice dropped to an edge that could cut steel. “Don’t you dare, Ariana.” The sharp use of her name instead of her title gave her pause, his tone teetering between fury and exasperation. “And scouts say Solas murdered some mages in cold blood—and you walked away?”

    Riley leaned back against the war table, her arms crossed and a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” she muttered to Cullen, earning a sharp glance from him but no rebuttal.

    That did it. The way he said her name, the underlying accusation, was the last straw. She had endured enough lectures for one day, and this tone? This parental edge as though she needed to justify her actions like a child? No.

    She raised a brow, her voice sharpening as sarcasm seeped into her words. “I’m sorry. Did you all mutiny while I was gone?” she asked sarcastically, turning to look at Riley.

    “Don’t look at me, Wolf,” Riley added with a shrug. “I just got dragged here.”

    Josephine’s hand flew to her mouth to stifle a laugh, and Leliana leaned subtly against the war table, clearly entertained by the turn of events. Cullen, however, didn’t share their amusement.

    “This isn’t a game, Ariana,” he snapped, stepping closer. “You’re the leader of the Inquisition. Your decisions have consequences—ones we all have to live with.”

    “And I made a decision,” she shot back, her tone now mirroring his intensity. “I assessed the situation and made the call. That is my job. Or has the definition of ‘Inquisitor’ changed while I was gone?”

    Cullen’s expression hardened, his frustration radiating off him in waves. But before he could respond, Leliana finally spoke, her voice cutting through the tension with a practiced calm.

    “Perhaps this is a matter best discussed after you’ve both had some rest. It’s clear emotions are high.”

    Ariana’s glare turned icy, her patience snapped. “No, we’ll handle it now,” she said, her tone brooking no argument. Her gaze shifted to Riley, who met it without flinching.

    “Riley, did I give any orders to send soldiers, scouts, or anyone else to the Exalted Plains?”

    Riley sighed, already knowing where this was headed. “No. You asked for a plan to get there.”

    “And?” Ariana pressed, knowing Riley understood the weight of her words.

    “You said a small group would be more likely to go unnoticed,” Riley confirmed, shaking her head slightly.

    Ariana turned back to the room, her eyes sweeping over each advisor. “So, this to me sounds like a lesson in dealing with the consequences of your actions and decisions. Not mine.” Her voice was steady, but the underlying anger was unmistakable. “Don’t ever try to blame me for the decisions you made. I trust that you all can do your jobs, and I trust your expertise. If you don’t like the outcome of your decisions, I won’t be your scapegoat.”

    The room fell into stunned silence, the weight of her words sinking in. Ariana turned back to Riley, her expression hard.

    “Get them under control, Riley,” she said, her tone like steel. “Train them better. They’re all adults, and they will learn to show some respect.”

    Riley raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms more tightly. “Why is it my job to get them in line?”

    Ariana’s smile was razor-sharp. “Because I trust you.”

    With that, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the war room, leaving them all looking dumbfounded in her wake. The heavy door closed behind her with a resounding thud, the echo of her authority lingering in the room long after she was gone.

    ~~~

    The war room was heavy with silence after Ariana’s exit, the door’s echoing thud still lingering in the tense air. Cullen stood by the table, his jaw clenched tight, eyes fixed on the closed door as if sheer will alone would bring her back.

    “What the hell was that supposed to mean?” Cullen finally snapped, his frustration spilling into the room like a wave crashing against stone.

    Josephine, ever the diplomat, glanced nervously at Leliana before speaking. “I believe the Inquisitor was… expressing her dissatisfaction with how this situation unfolded.”

    “Expressing?” Cullen barked a bitter laugh. “That was more than dissatisfaction. She made reckless decisions without telling anyone her reasons, gave vague orders, and now refuses to admit it.”

    “Did she, though?” Riley’s calm voice cut through the tension like a knife. She was leaning casually against the war table, arms crossed, an eyebrow raised in challenge.

    Cullen turned toward her, frustration flashing in his eyes. “What are you getting at?”

    “I’m asking,” Riley said evenly, “if any of those decisions were actually hers. Or did she just agree with you?”

    Leliana tilted her head, considering this. “She didn’t give detailed instructions,” she admitted, her voice thoughtful. “She asked for a path. That was all.”

    “Exactly,” Riley said, nodding. “She told you what she needed and trusted you to figure out the rest. She didn’t tell you how to do your jobs.”

    Cullen frowned, replaying the earlier conversation in his mind. “She said, ‘I need a path through the Exalted Plains to this point. And I need it as quickly as possible.’” His voice trailed off as realization dawned.

    “And?” Riley prompted, her gaze sharp.

    “That’s all she said,” Cullen muttered.

    Josephine exchanged a glance with Leliana, her expression softening. “We assumed the rest. We filled in the gaps with what we thought was best.”

    “And she agreed,” Cullen added, defensively.

    “Of course she did,” Riley replied with a shrug. “Because she trusts you. And let’s be honest—would you have let her leave without doing what you did?”

    Cullen sighed, the tension in his shoulders easing just a fraction. “No.”

    “So, what exactly are you mad at her for?” Riley pressed, her tone gentle but firm. “For asking for help? Or for trusting you to do what you’re good at?”

    Leliana leaned forward slightly, her voice soft but clear. “It’s not just about the decision. It’s about not understanding why she made it. We weren’t prepared for what we walked into.”

    “And that’s where you’re wrong,” Riley said. “Wolf’s orders are rarely fully explained. Sometimes it’s because she doesn’t have all the answers. Sometimes it’s because she knows telling you everything will just lead to an argument she doesn’t have time for. And she didn’t have time this time.”

    “So, she didn’t trust us… me… to do what was needed if she told us why?” Cullen asked, his voice tinged with both frustration and introspection.

    “Not exactly,” Riley said, shaking her head. “Did she lie about the reason?”

    “She said a friend of Solas had been captured and needed help,” Cullen said slowly.

    “And that’s what happened,” Josephine interjected gently.

    “It was a demon,” Cullen muttered, though the conviction in his voice wavered.

    “A spirit,” Riley corrected. “Of wisdom. One of Solas’s oldest friends. If it had been a person—a mage, an elf, even a noble—would you have questioned her the same way?”

    Cullen hesitated, the question clearly hitting home. “No. I wouldn’t have.”

    “Then why does this make a difference?” Leliana asked quietly, her eyes steady on his.

    Cullen rubbed his temples, the frustration bleeding into exhaustion. “Not everyone thinks like her. The world doesn’t see spirits and demons the way she does.”

    “True, but it doesn’t make her wrong,” Riley answered.

    “But she doesn’t understand, she’s the Inquisitor now. She has to take things more seriously.” Cullen shot back as his frustation eased.

    “That sarcasm?” Riley smirked. “That’s how she handles stress. It’s how she keeps herself—and the rest of us—from falling apart. But when she’s actually mad?” Riley let out a low whistle. “Maker help you if you push her past that point.”

    Cullen’s expression tightened. “Kirkwall.”

    “Exactly,” Riley said. “You remember what that was like. I had to step between you two before you killed each other.”

    “I’m not proud of that,” Cullen admitted quietly.

    “Neither is she,” Riley said gently. “But she doesn’t hold it against you. She trusts you more than anyone, even when you drive each other mad.”

    Cullen sighed, finally letting some of the tension drain from his posture. “You make it sound so simple.”

    “It’s not,” Riley said, her grin softening into something more thoughtful. “But you’re both too stubborn to let it stop you. And here’s the thing—she’s been driving me mad for almost a decade, and I trust her implicitly. When Wolf does something, it’s because she believes it’s the right thing. She doesn’t take the easy road, and she never will. That’s why the Rangers follow her—because they know she’ll only ever do what’s right, no matter how much it costs her.” The room finally eased, the tension giving way to a quiet understanding that, while Ariana’s methods might frustrate them, her loyalty and trust in them were unwavering. And maybe they owed her the same trust.

  • Chapter 83 – In the Shadow of Trouble

    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.”

  • Chapter 1 – A Spectre’s Curiosity

    She opened her eyes, turning to look at the clock again. 0100. Barely ten minutes since the last time she checked. Sleep wasn’t happening tonight, no matter how hard she tried.

    She stared at the ceiling, her thoughts spinning. Something about this mission was off. She didn’t know what yet, but the whispers from the crew had already reached her ears. They all felt it—the tension, the secrecy. This was no shakedown run.

    Sighing, Shepard sat up, the faint light from the corridor illuminating the room enough to grab her workout clothes. Black pants, a white tank top, and her N7 hoodie—simple, functional, familiar. If she couldn’t sleep, she could at least burn off some energy. She needed clarity, and the training area she’d set up in the cargo bay was as good a place as any to find it.

    The elevator hummed softly as it descended, the slow, deliberate pace giving her time to stew. Anderson was hiding something. That much was clear. And though it wasn’t her place to question him—not yet—it gnawed at her. If she was to be effective as XO, she needed to know what was coming. Being blindsided wasn’t an option. Beneath that frustration, though, there was something more subtle and troubling. The Spectre. Nihlus. She’d met turians before, sparred with them—hell, she was raised by one. But a Spectre? That was something else entirely. He wasn’t just skilled; he was calculating, and that combination made her uneasy.

    When the doors slid open, the dimly lit cargo bay greeted her with its usual stillness. The hum of the Normandy’s engines vibrated through the floor, a constant reminder of their journey through the void. The training area wasn’t much—a few mats, a couple of punching bags, and enough space to move. It was her idea, something she’d convinced Anderson to approve before launch. She’d framed it as a way for the crew to unwind, but she knew it was mostly for herself.

    She walked to the locker near the wall, pulled out bandages, and began wrapping her hands. The rhythmic motion steadied her thoughts. A sparring partner would have been ideal, but it wasn’t exactly professional to beat up her crew. No, the punching bag would have to do.

    As she began her routine, the tension in her shoulders started to ease. Each punch landed with precision and force, a satisfying rhythm forming as she worked. But her mind kept drifting back to Nihlus. He was impressive, she’d give him that. It wasn’t just his combat skill—though she’d heard plenty of stories about Spectres—but the way he seemed to watch everything, calculating, analyzing. It was unnerving. He probably knew more about her than she was comfortable with, but she wasn’t about to let him see that. Confidence was the best defense. If she seemed unshaken, maybe he’d underestimate her.

    # # #

    From his position at the workbench, Nihlus Kryik watched her in silence. He’d noticed her the moment she stepped off the elevator, but she hadn’t seen him. That was no surprise; remaining unnoticed was a skill he’d perfected over years as a Spectre. It wasn’t often that someone truly piqued his curiosity, but Shepard had managed to do just that.

    Her movements were sharp, deliberate, better than most humans he’d observed. Each strike to the punching bag carried precision and power, her form a testament to years of training. She was an enigma, and that intrigued him. He’d read her file, of course, and it was impressive on its own. Surviving Akuze alone was a feat few could claim. But files could only say so much. Watching her now, it was clear she wasn’t just surviving—she was thriving.

    Nihlus found himself drawn to her in a way he didn’t fully understand. Shepard had a presence about her, a confidence that made her stand out. She was attractive by human standards, tall and athletic with striking green eyes that seemed to gleam even in the dim light. But it wasn’t just her appearance. There was something predatory about her, something rare in other species. It was a quality he’d only seen in the best soldiers. Turian soldiers.

    She hadn’t noticed him yet, her focus entirely on the bag. He debated whether to make his presence known or to keep observing. She was clearly lost in thought, her strikes intensifying with each passing moment. Whatever was on her mind, it was driving her forward, pushing her to work harder. He respected that. It reminded him of himself in some ways—that need to prepare, to sharpen oneself against whatever challenges lay ahead.

    Finally, he decided to step forward.

    “Commander,” he said, his voice breaking the quiet.

    She turned sharply, her body tensing for a brief moment before she relaxed. “Nihlus,” she said evenly, reaching for her water bottle. “I didn’t realize anyone was down here.”

    He inclined his head slightly. “I didn’t mean to intrude. But since you’re here…” He glanced at the mats, his mandibles flaring slightly in what could only be amusement. “Care to spar? It’s been a while since I’ve had a good match.”

    Shepard’s expression didn’t change, but he caught the glint in her eye. “All right, Spectre,” she said with a faint smirk. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

    The hum of the cargo bay’s lights buzzed faintly in the stillness. Nihlus adjusted his stance on the mat. His mandibles twitched in a mix of curiosity and amusement as he regarded Commander Shepard across from him. He’d underestimated her—a mistake he rarely made, and one he wouldn’t repeat.

    Her strikes were relentless, precise, and calculated. She wasn’t like most humans he’d sparred with before. They often relied on brute force or clumsy techniques, leaving openings he could easily exploit. Shepard, on the other hand, moved with a fluidity that surprised him. Every strike was aimed at weak points—the gaps in his plating, the vulnerable spots no ordinary human should know about. It was disconcerting.

    No, impressive.

    He stepped back to regroup, his thoughts racing. Her file had been thorough—Akuze survivor, N7 operative, commendations for valor and leadership. But there was nothing in it that explained this. How did she know so much about turian physiology and combat techniques? There were no joint exercises with turian squads listed, no obvious connections to suggest this level of familiarity. She moved as if she’d been trained by a turian, but that couldn’t be right.

    Nihlus lunged forward, throwing a calculated jab aimed at her midsection. Shepard twisted at the last second, his strike grazing past her side. She countered with a sweeping kick aimed at his legs. He barely managed to block, the force of her blow reverberating up his arm.

    “You’re good,” he said, his subharmonics betraying a note of genuine admiration.

    Shepard’s lips curved into a faint smile, but her eyes remained sharp, focused. “I aim to impress.”

    Her movements grew faster, more aggressive. She pushed him, testing his limits. For a moment, he felt as if he were back in his military training days, facing an opponent who could actually challenge him. It was exhilarating, but it also put him on edge. She was hiding something. There was no other explanation for her skill.

    “You’re remarkably well-informed about turians,” he remarked, deflecting another strike aimed at his neck. “Most humans wouldn’t know where to aim.”

    Shepard didn’t answer immediately. She feinted left, drawing him off balance before landing a punch to his ribs. Even through his plating, the impact made him stagger back.

    She finally replied, her tone teasing. “I’m a quick study.”

    That answer didn’t satisfy him. He pressed forward, using his superior speed and strength to drive her back. Shepard evaded skillfully, but the match was turning in his favor. He saw the opportunity and took it, sweeping her legs out from under her. She hit the mat hard, and he was on her in an instant, pinning her arms above her head and leaning his weight into her to keep her immobilized.

    “Submit,” he said, his voice low and commanding.

    Shepard didn’t flinch. Instead, her eyes gleamed with something that sent a spark of warning through him. Her tone was almost playful. “Not yet.”

    Before he could react, she shifted her weight and twisted her body in a way that unbalanced him. Using the momentum, she freed one arm and struck at the vulnerable joint in his shoulder, forcing him to loosen his grip. In the same motion, she hooked her leg around his, pulling him off balance and flipping their positions.

    Now it was Nihlus pinned beneath her. One of her knees pressed into his chest, just below his collar plating, while the other was positioned near his neck. She had one arm braced against his wrist, effectively trapping him. The pressure she applied was enough to keep him still but not harm him—for now.

    “Your move, Spectre,” she said, her voice light but edged with triumph. “Or should I say… submit?”

    He stared up at her, his mandibles flaring slightly in a sign of reluctant respect. He had no way out of this. Shepard had bested him.

    “I submit,” he said, his tone even.

    She released him immediately, stepping back and extending a hand to help him up. He took it, pulling himself to his feet. As he dusted himself off, she grabbed a towel and slung it over her shoulder, her expression a mix of satisfaction and playfulness.

    “Very impressive, Commander,” he said, adjusting his stance. “I’ll admit, I didn’t expect that.”

    Shepard smirked, a glint of mischief in her eyes. “I’ll be sure to pass on the compliments to my father.”

    Nihlus tilted his head, his mandibles twitching in confusion. “Your father?”

    She didn’t elaborate. Instead, she threw him a casual wave as she headed for the elevator. “Goodnight, Spectre. Let’s do this again sometime.”

    As the elevator doors closed, Nihlus remained where he stood, watching the empty space where she’d been. Shepard was a puzzle, and he wasn’t the type to leave a puzzle unsolved.

    # # #

    Nihlus stood outside Captain Anderson’s quarters, his mind still spinning from the events of the previous night. Shepard—Commander Shepard—was unlike any human he had ever encountered. Her skill, her precision, her knowledge of turian combat techniques… It didn’t add up. No Alliance training could explain it, and her service record had no mention of specialized turian combat instruction. There was something missing.

    He tapped the door panel, and Anderson’s voice called, “Come in.”

    The door slid open, and Nihlus stepped inside, inclining his head in a polite gesture. Anderson looked up from a datapad, his expression neutral but alert.

    “Spectre,” Anderson greeted. “What can I do for you?”

    Nihlus wasted no time. “I was reviewing Commander Shepard’s file again this morning. I noticed something… unusual.”

    Anderson raised an eyebrow. “Unusual?”

    Nihlus folded his arms. “Her family record. There’s no mention of her father.”

    Anderson smirked, and for a moment, Nihlus thought he saw a glint of amusement in the captain’s eyes. “I figured that might come up,” Anderson said, leaning back in his chair. “What’s your interest in her father?”

    “Last night, during our sparring match, Shepard implied her father was skilled in hand-to-hand combat. Exceptionally skilled. Particularly against turians.” Nihlus’ mandibles twitched in frustration. “That level of training doesn’t just appear out of nowhere, and her record makes no mention of it.”

    Anderson chuckled, setting his datapad down. “Well, that’s because Shepard’s father isn’t Alliance military. So, you won’t find his service records in our database.”

    Nihlus tilted his head, confusion evident in the subtle shifts of his mandibles. “Not Alliance military? Then… who?” He paused, trying to piece together the puzzle. “If he’s not in the military, how does she know so much about turian combat styles?”

    Anderson leaned forward, resting his arms on the desk, and gave a low laugh. “I’m surprised you don’t already know. I’d have thought someone in your position would’ve connected the dots by now. After all, it’s not exactly a secret.”

    Nihlus’ mandibles flared slightly. “What dots?” he asked, his tone edged with curiosity and a hint of frustration.

    Anderson’s smile widened, clearly enjoying the moment. “Let me put it this way: Shepard’s parents—Hannah and her husband—met not long after the First Contact War ended. That’s your starting point.”

    Nihlus’ brow plates furrowed as he considered the implications. His first thought was a prisoner of war. “Are you suggesting her father was one of the humans captured by turian forces during the early encounters with human colonies?” he asked.

    Anderson’s laughter filled the room, a deep, genuine sound that made Nihlus straighten. “Oh, no,” Anderson said, shaking his head. “You’ve got it backwards, Spectre. You’re not going to find Shepard’s father in any human database because you need to be looking at turian military records.”

    Nihlus blinked, momentarily stunned. “Turian?” The word came out slowly, almost disbelieving.

    Anderson nodded, his expression smug. “That’s right. Shepard’s father is turian.”

    The revelation hit Nihlus like a kinetic blast. His mind raced, piecing together everything he knew about Shepard’s background and the implications of Anderson’s statement. A turian father. It explained so much—her fighting style, her knowledge of turian vulnerabilities, even her confidence. But it raised just as many questions.

    “Who is he?” Nihlus finally asked, his voice measured but tinged with urgency. “What’s his name?”

    Anderson’s grin didn’t falter. “That’s for you to find out, Spectre. I’m sure you have the resources to dig up the turian military records yourself. Consider it… a challenge.”

    Nihlus straightened, his mandibles tightening in determination. “I will,” he said simply, turning toward the door. But before he left, he glanced back at Anderson. “You seem to find this amusing, Captain.”

    Anderson leaned back in his chair, his expression one of barely concealed amusement. “Let’s just say it’s been a long time since I’ve seen a Spectre caught off guard. Good luck, Nihlus.”

    With that, Nihlus left the room, his mind already racing ahead to the task at hand. He needed answers, and he wasn’t leaving this mystery unsolved.

    # # #

    The hum of the Normandy’s engines were the only sound in the, otherwise, quiet, dimly lit cargo bay. Nihlus stood near a workbench, his omni-tool glowing faintly in the dim light as he worked through database after database. His mandibles twitched with frustration. This was taking far longer than he anticipated.

    The captain’s words kept circling in his mind. “You need to be looking in turian military records.” It had been both an answer and a challenge, and Nihlus wasn’t one to back down from either. Shepard’s skill and knowledge—and now, her lineage—had become a puzzle he couldn’t ignore. If her father had been turian military, there had to be a record somewhere.

    Hours passed as he sifted through encrypted files and classified records. Records of Hannah Shepard revealed a series of mission briefs from just after the First Contact War. Hannah Shepard, Alliance operative, assigned to work alongside a turian named Selvek Itanus. They had been paired for several high-priority missions involving human terrorists who sought to destabilize relations between humanity and the Council. The reports were thorough, outlining their successes and the unusual efficiency of their partnership. Nihlus noted the repeated mentions of Selvek’s tactical genius and sharp instincts. It was clear the turian was highly regarded—almost legendary.

    He pressed on, growing more determined. Eventually, he unearthed a file that caught his attention: a request from Selvek Itanus for a partial retirement from active duty. Nihlus skimmed the document quickly. Selvek had cited a desire to spend more time with his family. His family? Nihlus’ mandibles twitched. Surely that meant a turian family. It was rare for turians to prioritize personal life over service, but it wasn’t unheard of.

    But as he dug deeper, more pieces began to surface. Alongside Selvek’s retirement request were mentions of political inquiries and investigations. A high-ranking human politician, Sarah Shepard, had requested Selvek’s transfer to the Citadel. There were references to Hannah Shepard as well, and the tone of the files shifted. They weren’t just professional allies.

    Nihlus frowned, his talons working quickly over the omni-tool’s interface. It took some time, but eventually, he unearthed the records he was looking for. Citadel archives contained the official legal proceedings: a marriage certificate, legally binding Hannah Shepard and Selvek Itanus as husband and wife. Followed shortly after by a legal adoption of Jane Shepard, by Selvek Itanus, with full approval from Hannah Shepard.

    He stared at the records, momentarily stunned. Selvek Itanus, high-ranking turian military and a near-legendary Blackwatch operative, had married a human and adopted her child. Nihlus’ mandibles flared slightly as he processed the implications. It made sense now—Shepard’s combat style, her knowledge of turians, even her unshakable confidence. She had been raised by one of the most skilled turians in recent memory. Of course she’d know where to aim her punches.

    But one thing still didn’t add up. Selvek had been on a trajectory to greatness. By all accounts, he could have become Primarch if he had wanted it. Why would he throw it all away for a human wife and an adopted daughter? Nihlus’ talons tapped idly on the edge of the workbench as he thought. The more he tried to wrap his head around it, the less sense it made. turians valued duty, service, and the collective good above all else. To give up a promising career for personal reasons… it was practically unheard of.

    And for a human?

    He leaned back, rubbing the side of his face in frustration. His thoughts drifted, unbidden, back to Shepard. She was formidable—that much was clear. For all her skill and presence, she was still… human. But did that really matter? The longer he thought about it, the more he realized how much time he’d been spending thinking about her since their sparring match. It wasn’t just her skill that had left an impression. It was her determination, her wit, her ability to match him strike for strike without faltering. There was something magnetic about her, something that made it hard to dismiss her as just another human.

    Nihlus’ mandibles twitched again, this time in discomfort. He’d always thought of humans as… well, different. He believed in the potential of their species, but they still had a lot to learn. And yet, Shepard… Shepard was making him question that assumption. He shook his head, trying to push the thought away, but it lingered. Perhaps humans and turians weren’t as incompatible as he’d once thought. Perhaps he was right

    With a sigh, he shut down his omni-tool and stared into the quiet expanse of the cargo bay. Shepard was a puzzle, and he was no closer to solving her than he had been when he started. Her background answered a large part of it. But one thing was certain: she wasn’t like anyone he’d ever. That alone made her worth watching—and worth understanding.

    # # #

    The cargo bay was alive with its usual quiet hum, the faint vibrations of the Normandy’s engines providing a steady backdrop. Shepard stood near the workbench, casually leaning against it as Kaidan Alenko asked her a string of questions about their next mission. Shepard answered them with the same vague, standard responses she’d been giving the rest of the crew—enough to reassure without giving too much away.

    Kaidan, however, seemed unsatisfied. His eyes flicked to the side, landing on Nihlus, who stood a short distance away, appearing focused on his omni-tool. But Nihlus wasn’t truly working. His attention was divided, his sharp hearing easily catching every word of their conversation.

    Kaidan’s voice dropped, a deliberate move to lower his tone, but he clearly didn’t realize how futile it was. “Commander, don’t you think it’s a little… odd? Having him here? I mean, he’s a turian. This is an Alliance ship, an Alliance mission. What are we doing letting aliens call the shots?”

    Nihlus’ mandibles twitched slightly, but he remained outwardly still. His attention shifted to Shepard. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught her glance in his direction. It wasn’t a full look, but a faint smirk tugged at the edge of her lips. She knew he could hear them.

    Shepard straightened slightly, her stance shifting just enough to signal she’d had enough. Her voice remained calm but carried an unmistakable edge. “His name is Nihlus Kryik,” she said, her tone measured but firm. “He’s a Spectre, and he’s a damn good soldier. You’d do well to show him the respect due a superior officer.”

    Kaidan blinked, taken aback by Shepard’s sudden shift in tone. “I just don’t see why we need them,” he said, a touch defensive. “This is our mission. Humanity’s mission. Why should we let them interfere?”

    Shepard’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Because humanity isn’t alone anymore, Alenko. We’re part of a galactic civilization. The Citadel Council runs the show, and the Alliance agreed to play ball. That means we work with aliens. Whether you like it or not, that’s the reality. You don’t have to like him, but you do have to respect him.”

    Nihlus found himself caught off guard. Shepard’s defense of him wasn’t just professional; it was personal. She didn’t have to correct Kaidan so directly, especially knowing he could hear every word. But she had, without hesitation. Why?

    Kaidan shifted awkwardly, clearly uncomfortable under Shepard’s sharp gaze. “Yes, ma’am,” he said finally, his tone subdued. He glanced once more at Nihlus before nodding and walking off, leaving Shepard and the Spectre alone in the cargo bay.

    Nihlus remained silent, watching as Shepard exhaled quietly and resumed leaning against the workbench. She didn’t acknowledge him directly, but it was obvious she knew he’d been listening. He considered stepping forward, saying something, but found himself hesitating. Instead, his thoughts turned inward.

    Why had she defended him so openly? Shepard’s loyalty to the Alliance was unquestionable, yet she’d spoken as if she truly believed in the importance of cooperation with the Council and the broader galactic community. More than that, she’d chosen to correct her own crew in his defense. Shepard didn’t strike him as someone who did things without reason. She had to know how it would look to her subordinate, to him, to anyone who might overhear.

    He replayed her words in his mind, her conviction, her poise. It wasn’t just what she’d said, but the way she’d said it—unapologetic, confident, and commanding. Nihlus felt something stir within him. Shepard… she wasn’t just impressive. She was remarkable. The kind of leader who could not only hold her own in a fight but inspire loyalty and respect, even from someone like him. Maybe she really was the right person for this.

    Unbidden, another thought crept into his mind. Maybe she was the right person for him.

    The realization was jarring, and he immediately tried to dismiss it. It was absurd. He was a Spectre, a turian, and she was human, alliance. Professional boundaries aside, the differences between them should have made such an idea unthinkable. And yet… it lingered. He shook his head, trying to refocus his thoughts.

    But one thing became clear. He needed to talk to Shepard again. Whether to satisfy his curiosity or to understand the source of his growing admiration, he couldn’t say. For now, he stayed where he was, watching as Shepard pushed off the workbench and strode toward the elevator, her posture as commanding as ever.

    Then, unexpectedly, another thought surfaced, one he hadn’t even considered until now. Was this what Selvek must have felt about Hannah Shepard? Was this the kind of certainty, the undeniable pull, that made him give up everything for a human? Nihlus’ mandibles twitched as he considered the implications, discomfort warring with intrigue. He had more questions now than ever, and he wasn’t sure he liked where they were leading him.

  • Chapter 82 – The Weight of the Past

    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.

  • Chapter 81 – An Inquisitor and a Wolf

    1 – 4 Solace 9:41

    Ariana awoke early, the room still draped in the soft gray light of dawn. Beside her, Cullen lay asleep, his breathing even, the lines of worry on his face softened in repose. At least he’s finally getting some rest, she thought with a faint smile, her heart warming at the sight. But her thoughts drifted, unbidden, to the memory of the Fade. The Fade…

    Her pulse quickened as she sat up, the exhilaration from the day before rushing back. She needed answers—no, more than answers. She needed to understand. Her feet hit the cold stone floor, and she dressed quietly, careful not to wake Cullen. Slipping out of their quarters, she made her way through the halls, her steps light despite the early hour.

    When she reached Solas’s room, she paused briefly at the threshold. Before she could announce herself, his voice greeted her.

    “Sleep well?” he asked without looking up from the tome in his hands.

    Ariana blinked, caught off guard, before a smile spread across her face—a smile so wide it almost hurt, but she couldn’t help it. The memory of the Fade burned bright in her mind, too vivid and extraordinary to contain. “That was… amazing,” she said, stepping inside. “I’ve never done anything like that before. Do you regularly talk to people in their dreams?”

    Solas closed the book, setting it aside with careful precision, before finally turning to face her. “No,” he said simply, his voice measured but carrying a hint of something more—respect, perhaps, or fascination. “Consider that one more rule you have effortlessly broken in your rise to power.”

    “Rise to power seems dramatic,” Ariana quipped, her tone light despite the flutter of excitement in her chest.

    Solas tilted his head slightly, his gaze keen. “And yet no less accurate.”

    Her smile widened again, though she shifted her weight, brushing the moment aside. “Do you do this often? Visit dreams, I mean.”

    Solas gave a faint shrug, his expression calm but contemplative. “Rarely. And even then, only with great caution. The mind is a sanctuary, Wolf. It is not a place one should tread lightly.” He stepped forward, his tone softening as he added, “Yet your experience… It is unlike anything I have encountered. I had no idea the Anchor would allow you to dream with such focus. It is… remarkable.”

    Ariana’s breath hitched at his words, the awe in his voice resonating with her own sense of wonder. “You really think so?” she asked, a flicker of self-consciousness creeping into her voice.

    “I do,” Solas replied without hesitation, his gaze steady. “But I am reasonably certain we are awake now. If you wish to discuss anything, I would enjoy talking.”

    “As would I,” she said quickly, her words spilling out before she could second-guess herself. “Care to take a walk?”

    He studied her for a moment, the corner of his lips curling into a faint, knowing smile. “Lead the way, Wolf.”

    Ariana felt her breath quicken again, an odd mixture of nerves and exhilaration washing over her. There was something about Solas that both unnerved and fascinated her. He was a puzzle—a keeper of secrets that felt tantalizingly close to being uncovered. She didn’t fully understand the pull she felt toward him, but she couldn’t deny it. It wasn’t personal, not in the way others might think. It was his knowledge, his insight. He could unlock truths she had only dreamed of.

    As they stepped out into the cool morning air, Ariana turned toward the battlements, her heart racing as the anticipation of their conversation filled her with an almost childlike giddiness. “There’s so much I want to ask you,” she admitted as they walked. “About the Fade, about spirits, about what you’ve seen…”

    Solas raised an eyebrow, a spark of amusement flickering across his face. “Then I hope you are prepared for long answers,” he said smoothly. “It is not a simple thing, to explain the mysteries of the Fade.”

    “Good,” Ariana said, her eyes glinting with determination. “I’m not looking for simple.”

    And as they walked, the sunrise casting golden light across Skyhold, Ariana felt the tug of adventure in her chest—an insatiable desire to know more, to learn, to explore the unknown. It was the same feeling she had chasing ruins or studying constellations, but magnified a thousandfold. For the first time, she felt as though she was truly stepping into the vastness of the world—and beyond.

    ~~~

    The early morning air was crisp and bracing as Ariana leaned against the battlements, listening intently to Solas’s explanation of the nature of spirits and the intricacies of the Veil. His words were like puzzle pieces, and she couldn’t get enough of the way they seemed to fit together in her mind, opening pathways she hadn’t even realized existed.

    “So, the Veil wasn’t always there?” she asked, her voice tinged with wonder.

    “Precisely,” Solas replied, his tone patient and deliberate. “It was not always the barrier you perceive it as. The Fade and the physical world were once one and the same—a single, seamless existence. The Veil is… a wound, of sorts. A division imposed upon what was once whole.”

    Ariana frowned slightly, considering his words. “And we just… accepted that division? That wound?”

    “Not everyone accepted it,” Solas said cryptically, his gaze drifting out over the mountains as though seeing something far beyond them. “But that is a conversation for another time.”

    Before she could press him further, the sound of footsteps approached, steady and purposeful. Ariana turned her head and saw Cullen striding toward her and Solas, his golden hair catching the morning light. There was an unmistakable tension in the set of his shoulders, in the way his jaw tightened as his eyes landed on her.

    “Cullen,” Ariana greeted him with a bright smile, the excitement from her conversation still evident in her voice. “You’re up early.”

    “You’re needed in the war room,” he said briskly, his tone clipped. He didn’t even glance at Solas, his focus entirely on her.

    Ariana’s smile faltered slightly as she noticed the strain in his expression—the furrowed brow, the stiffness in his posture. “Alright,” she said, glancing briefly at Solas. “Thank you for the conversation. We’ll continue later?”

    “Of course,” Solas replied, inclining his head. His voice was calm, but Ariana thought she caught a flicker of amusement in his eyes as Cullen turned on his heel and began walking away.

    She followed Cullen silently, her excitement fading as the weight of his demeanor pressed down on her. His strides were longer than usual, his pace quicker, as though he were trying to put distance between her and Solas—or perhaps just her and the battlements. She tried to keep up, her thoughts swirling.

    When they reached his office, Cullen opened the door and held it for her, his jaw tightening as he gestured for her to step inside. Once the door closed behind them, he turned to face her, his expression a mix of frustration and concern.

    “Ariana,” he began, his voice low but firm. “I need you to understand something.”

    Ariana crossed her arms, leaning slightly against his desk. “What is it, Cullen?”

    He ran a hand through his hair, letting out a slow breath. “I don’t know how else to say this, so I’ll just say it: I’m not comfortable with your… relationship with Solas.”

    Her eyebrows shot up. “Relationship? Cullen, it’s not—”

    “It’s not jealousy,” he interrupted, his voice sharp. “It’s about what happened yesterday, what I saw when I found you. You weren’t yourself, Ari. You weren’t even fully here. And then, this morning, I wake up and you’re gone—only to find you with him again.”

    Ariana hesitated, caught off guard by the raw edge in his tone. “Cullen, I didn’t mean to upset you. I was just… excited. What happened yesterday was extraordinary. I’ve never experienced anything like it.”

    “That’s exactly what worries me,” Cullen said, stepping closer, his eyes searching hers. “You were so caught up in whatever you saw, whatever you felt, that you couldn’t even hear me. I tried to get through to you, to make you understand how dangerous it was, and you—” He broke off, exhaling sharply. “Ari, I don’t think you realize how close you were to being lost.”

    Her chest tightened at the emotion in his voice, and she reached out to take his hand, her grip firm but reassuring. “Cullen, I hear you now. I promise I do. Yesterday… I couldn’t process it. It was too much, too fast. But I wasn’t in danger. Solas was there. He knew what he was doing.”

    Cullen shook his head, his frustration evident. “You trust him too much.”

    “I trust him because he saved me,” Ariana said, her voice calm but resolute. “I know it’s hard for you to see it, Cullen, but Solas is brilliant. He’s shown me things, explained things I didn’t think I could ever understand. That’s all this is—curiosity. Exploration.”

    Cullen’s jaw clenched, his free hand curling into a fist at his side. “I understand your curiosity, Ari. I do. But I need you to be careful. The Fade isn’t just some ancient ruin to explore. It’s not a puzzle to solve. It’s dangerous. It’s unpredictable.”

    Ariana’s gaze softened as she squeezed his hand. “I know you’re worried,” she said gently. “And I’m sorry if I wasn’t listening yesterday. But I’m here now. I’m grounded. And I’m not going anywhere.”

    He searched her face for a long moment, his expression softening slightly as her words sank in. “You’re sure?” he asked quietly. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

    “I’m sure,” she said, her voice steady. “And I promise, I’ll be careful. I won’t do anything reckless.”

    Cullen nodded slowly, though the worry in his eyes didn’t entirely fade. “Alright,” he said finally. “But, Ari… if anything feels wrong, if anything changes, you tell me. Immediately.”

    “Of course,” she agreed without hesitation. “You’re always the first person I tell.”

    A faint smile tugged at his lips, and he pulled her into a tight embrace. “I just need you safe,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “That’s all I care about.”

    Ariana rested her head against his chest, her arms wrapping around him. “I know,” she said softly. “And I will be. I promise.”

    As they stood there, the tension between them slowly began to ease. Cullen’s grip on her loosened slightly, though he didn’t pull away entirely. Ariana could feel his heartbeat gradually steadying beneath her cheek, and she allowed herself a moment to simply breathe him in, the familiar scent of oakmoss and elderflower grounding her.

    After a few moments of silence, she tilted her head up to look at him, her lips curving into a faint, mischievous smile. “So,” she began, her tone soft but playful, “am I really needed in the war room, or was that just an excuse to get me away from Solas?”

    Cullen froze for half a second, his hazel eyes flickering with something between guilt and amusement before he let out a quiet sigh. “Josephine does need to see you,” he admitted, his tone more relaxed now. “I believe it’s something to do with Magister Alexius.”

    Ariana raised an eyebrow, her teasing smile widening. “Oh, so there is a war room matter? I suppose I shouldn’t feel too flattered, then.”

    Cullen shook his head, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in a reluctant smile. “It’s not that,” he said, his voice softer now. “You know I’d have come to find you regardless. I just… I couldn’t leave things as they were. Not after last night.”

    Her expression softened, and she reached up to brush her fingers lightly against his cheek. “I know,” she said gently. “And I’m glad you came to find me. Really.”

    His gaze searched hers for a moment before he nodded, his hand moving to rest over hers. “Just… promise me you’ll take it slow,” he said. “Whatever this is with Solas—whatever it is you’re trying to learn—don’t let it pull you too far away.”

    “I promise,” Ariana said, her voice steady and sincere. “You’re always my anchor, Cullen. You know that.”

    The warmth in his eyes deepened, and he leaned down to press a soft kiss to her forehead. “Alright,” he murmured. “Let’s go see Josephine, then. The Magister can’t wait forever.”

    Ariana laughed softly, letting him lead her toward the door. But as they walked, she couldn’t help but glance back at the battlements, the conversation with Solas still fresh in her mind. The pull of the unknown was as strong as ever—but so was her resolve to stay grounded in what mattered most.

    ~~~

    “Ah, Inquisitor, you’re here,” Josephine acknowledged as Ariana and Cullen entered her office. “Please follow me,” she said, turning briskly to lead them elsewhere.

    Ariana exchanged a glance with Cullen, her brow furrowed in confusion. His expression mirrored hers—a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. Without a word, they followed Josephine back out of her office and into the main hall.

    Ariana’s steps slowed as the group approached the throne. The weight of the massive chair seemed to grow heavier with each step closer, and she glanced nervously between Josephine and Cullen. The grandeur of it—its gilded frame and imposing presence—only added to her unease.

    “What are we doing here?” she asked cautiously, her voice tight with suspicion. She had always hated that thing. If it were up to her, there wouldn’t even be a throne here—she’d have replaced it with a simple table and chairs, something practical and unassuming.

    “Impressive, is it not?” Josephine motioned to the throne with a graceful wave of her hand. “Fit for a leader. Meant to show influence—and the burden of it. It is where the Inquisition will sit in judgment. Where you will sit in judgment.”

    Ariana’s stomach dropped. She turned sharply to Cullen, her hazel-green eyes wide with desperation, silently pleading for him to make sense of this.

    “I’m sorry… what?” Ariana said, her voice barely above a whisper.

    Cullen stepped forward, his protective instincts kicking in. “Josephine, what are you talking about? Who will she be judging, exactly?”

    Josephine’s gaze shifted between them, her composed demeanor faltering slightly, though she quickly masked it with a polite smile. “Those who have done wrong. You will know of them, at the very least,” she explained, her tone calm and matter-of-fact. Her focus returned to Ariana. “All this presumes they have survived their initial encounter with you, of course.”

    Ariana’s breath hitched. Her hands balled into fists at her sides as she stared at Josephine in disbelief. Judgment? She wants me to pass judgment on people?

    She looked back at Cullen, silently begging him to fix this.

    Sensing her distress, Cullen interjected. “Why aren’t we simply sending them back for their own governments to handle?”

    Josephine tilted her head slightly, as though the question were unexpected. “The Inquisition’s sovereignty is derived from the allies who validate it,” she began, her tone still maddeningly calm. Her gaze shifted back to Ariana. “You are both empowered and bound. Justice has many tools. If their application is clever, execution may even seem merciful by comparison.”

    Ariana closed her eyes, rubbing her temples as she tried to steady her breathing. The room felt stifling. Josephine’s words rang in her ears, cold and clinical, like this was just another strategy in her endless calculations. Execution? Mercy? No. This isn’t what I’m here for.

    “And you’re telling me this now because…?” she asked, her voice tight with frustration.

    “Magister Alexius will be the first of such prisoners under the Inquisition’s sovereignty to judge,” Josephine replied smoothly. She paused, as if waiting for Ariana to respond, but when she didn’t, Josephine’s gaze shifted back to Cullen. “Ferelden has given him to us as acknowledgment of your aid.”

    “Then send a letter to Alistair,” Ariana snapped, her voice sharp. “I appreciate him giving Alexius to us, but he can deal with him. I’m sure Arl Teagan won’t mind judging him.”

    Before Josephine could respond, Ariana turned on her heel and walked away. Her footsteps echoed in the silent hall as she left the throne and the suffocating expectations that came with it behind.

    She barely registered the walk back to her quarters, her thoughts spinning faster than she could keep up with. Judgment. A throne. Execution. The words repeated like a chant in her mind, each one striking like a hammer against stone.

    As she stepped into her quarters, her breaths came shorter and shallower. She tried to inhale deeply, but her chest felt too tight. The room blurred slightly as she stumbled toward the couch. Collapsing to her knees, she leaned against it, her head falling forward into her hands.

    I didn’t agree to this. I didn’t agree to any of this.

    She didn’t hear Cullen enter until his voice cut through her spiraling thoughts. “Ari,” he said softly, kneeling beside her. “Are you alright?”

    She looked up at him, her hazel-green eyes glassy with unshed tears. “I… no… I’m not,” she snapped, her voice breaking. “I didn’t agree to this, Cullen.”

    He reached for her hand, his touch gentle but grounding. “I know,” he said softly. “I know you didn’t.”

    Her shoulders trembled as she shook her head, her voice rising. “I’m not… this. I’m not a leader or a judge. I’m not…” She trailed off, her breaths coming in quick, uneven gasps.

    “You’re just Wolf,” Cullen finished for her, his voice calm and steady. “I know.”

    She laughed bitterly, the sound catching in her throat. “I don’t want a throne. I don’t want to sit in judgment. That’s not what I signed up for. I’m just… I’m just a mercenary. That’s all I’ve ever been.”

    Cullen’s hand tightened around hers, his other hand brushing against her cheek. “You’re so much more than that, Ari,” he said gently. “You’ve always been more than that. But I understand why this feels like too much.”

    Her eyes searched his, desperate for reassurance. “I can’t do this, Cullen,” she whispered. “I can fight. I can lead troops. I can protect people. But sitting on a throne, passing judgment? That’s not me.”

    Cullen hesitated for a moment, his brow furrowed. “Then let me help,” he said finally. “You don’t have to carry this alone. I’ll take on whatever I can. If there’s a way to share the burden, I’ll find it.”

    She closed her eyes, her forehead pressing against his shoulder as the tension in her body ebbed away, replaced by a fragile but growing resolve. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice steadier now. “For not letting me run.”

    Cullen’s arms encircled her fully, holding her close as he rested his chin against her hair. “You can run, Ari,” he murmured. “But I’ll always catch you.”

    A soft laugh escaped her, muffled against his chest. “That’s not very reassuring, you know.”

    He smiled faintly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Then let me rephrase: I’ll always stand beside you.”

    For a long moment, they stayed like that, wrapped in each other’s presence as the storm inside her began to calm. Finally, Ariana pulled back, her gaze meeting his. “I’ll do it,” she said, her voice firmer now. “But only because I know you’ll be there.”

    “Always,” Cullen replied, his tone steady and certain.

    And as they stood, their hands still clasped, Ariana felt a flicker of strength she hadn’t known she possessed. It wasn’t the throne that defined her—it was the people around her. And with Cullen by her side, she knew she could face whatever judgment awaited.

    ~~~

    Ariana lingered near the fireplace in the main hall after the judgment, staring into the flickering flames. She could still hear Alexius’ resigned voice echoing in her ears.

    “No execution? Very well.”

    The weight of the throne—the literal and metaphorical—still pressed heavily on her, and even now, she found herself rubbing the back of her neck as if she could physically ease the tension it brought. She felt a presence beside her before the voice spoke.

    “You handled it well, you know,” Dorian said, his tone carefully neutral.

    Ariana glanced at him, her hazel-green eyes shadowed. “Did I?”

    Dorian gave a small shrug, his lips curling into a faint smile. “You didn’t kill him, so I’d call it a success.”

    Her gaze returned to the fire, her voice quieter. “He was your mentor. I thought you’d have more to say.”

    “I do,” Dorian admitted, stepping closer to her. “You gave him a purpose again—research, magic. That’s where Alexius was always happiest. Where he was… before everything fell apart.” He hesitated, his voice growing softer. “I wonder if, someday, he might even speak to me again. It’s been a long time since we’ve truly talked.”

    Ariana’s lips pressed into a thin line. “You’re not angry with me?”

    Dorian shook his head. “Angry? No. Relieved, perhaps. Grateful. You gave him mercy, something he didn’t earn but desperately needed. Thank you, truly.” His usual sharp wit softened into sincerity, and the gratitude in his voice was unmistakable.

    Ariana allowed herself a faint smile. “I wasn’t sure if it was the right call. Still not sure.”

    “Of course you’re not,” Dorian said, his tone light but edged with honesty. “But that’s exactly why it was the right call. You’re not a tyrant, Ariana. You’re not someone who sits on that throne with a quick hand or a cold heart. You don’t want this power—and that’s why you’re the one who should wield it.”

    She blinked, his words unexpectedly echoing Cullen’s earlier reassurances. “You sound like Cullen.”

    “Then he must be as wise as he is stubborn,” Dorian quipped, though his smile softened. “But it’s true, you know. Your hesitation, your discomfort—it means you’re thinking, weighing your choices. That throne needs someone who doesn’t take it for granted, who doesn’t revel in its power. Someone like you.”

    Ariana’s gaze dropped to the floor, her fingers fidgeting at her sides. “It doesn’t feel that way. I don’t want a throne, Dorian. I never asked for this. Fighting? I can do that. Sitting in judgment?” She shook her head, her voice lowering. “That’s not who I am.”

    Dorian studied her for a moment, his expression thoughtful. Then, with a graceful flourish, he offered her his arm. “Well, my darling Inquisitor, perhaps it’s time you reminded yourself who you are. Shall we head to the tavern? I find nothing calms existential dread quite like a good bottle of wine.”

    Ariana blinked at him, startled into a soft laugh. “That I can do.”

    “Of course you can, my dear. We’re black sheep after all,” he replied, his smile widening. “Come on. I’ll even let you buy the first round.”

    She hesitated for only a moment before taking his arm, grateful for the reprieve he offered. As they walked toward the doors, Dorian turned his head and called back over his shoulder.

    “Oh, Commander, care to join us?” he asked, his voice carrying easily across the hall. “I think your betrothed could use your… steadying presence.”

    Cullen, who had been quietly observing from a distance, straightened slightly, his brow furrowing with faint concern. “Is she alright?”

    “She’s with me,” Dorian replied smoothly. “Of course she’s alright. But, alas, I’m not the man she has chosen to marry.”

    Ariana rolled her eyes, though her smile betrayed her amusement. “Stop badgering him, Dorian.”

    “I would never,” Dorian said, mock-offended. “Now, shall we?”

    Cullen hesitated for only a moment before nodding, stepping forward to join them. As the three of them left the hall together, Ariana felt some of the weight lift from her shoulders. It wasn’t gone—not entirely—but with them by her side, it felt just a little easier to carry.

    ~~~

    Ariana lay awake, staring at the faint light creeping through the curtains. The world was still and quiet, the faint sounds of the wind brushing against the stone walls the only indication that dawn wasn’t far off. But sleep refused to come. Her thoughts were restless, skipping like stones across the surface of her mind.

    She turned her head toward Cullen, who lay beside her, his breathing deep and even. The sight of him so peaceful brought a small smile to her lips. But that smile quickly turned mischievous as an idea took shape.

    Rolling onto her side, she reached out and gently poked his shoulder. “Cullen,” she whispered, her voice soft but insistent. When he didn’t stir, she poked him again, a little harder this time. “Cullen.”

    Still no response. Her grin widened as she leaned closer, pressing a featherlight kiss to his cheek, then another to his temple. “Commander,” she murmured playfully, the title carrying a singsong lilt. “Time to wake up.”

    Cullen shifted slightly, letting out a soft, sleepy groan but otherwise remaining stubbornly still.

    Ariana huffed, sitting up slightly. Her fingers danced over his ribs in a teasing attempt at tickling him. “You promised…”

    That earned her a reaction. Cullen groaned again, this time reaching out to grab her wrists, stopping her playful assault. His eyes cracked open, bleary and golden in the dim light, as he squinted up at her. “Ari,” he muttered, his voice rough with sleep. “What are you doing?”

    “I’m waking you up,” she replied with a grin, leaning down until her face was inches from his. “You’ve slept long enough.”

    “It’s barely dawn,” he mumbled, releasing her hands and rubbing a hand over his face. “Why are you even awake?”

    She shrugged, flopping onto her side next to him. “I couldn’t sleep.”

    “Clearly,” he muttered, his tone dry but affectionate. He turned his head to look at her, his brow furrowed. “Is something wrong?”

    “Nothing,” Ariana said cheerfully, propping herself up on her elbow. “I just thought it’d be fun to train. Come on, Cullen. Let’s go to the courtyard.”

    “Fun,” he repeated flatly, his head sinking back into the pillow. “It’s too early for ‘fun,’ Ari.”

    Ariana’s grin widened. “But not too early to train. You could learn a lot from me.”

    Cullen cracked one eye open, giving her a skeptical look. “Such as?”

    “Well, for starters,” she began, sitting up straighter, “you could learn how to fight in the dark.”

    Cullen blinked, looking at her as though she’d just suggested he take up juggling. “Why would I need to fight in the dark?”

    Ariana gasped, clutching her chest in mock horror. “You mean to tell me Templars don’t train in the dark? What do you do if you’re ambushed at night?”

    “We light a torch,” Cullen replied dryly, his expression deadpan.

    She stared at him for a moment before shaking her head. “Amateurs. Next you’ll tell me you don’t climb trees?”

    His brow furrowed in confusion. “Trees?”

    “Yes, trees,” Ariana said, her tone serious. “You do learn that sometimes you might need to climb a tree, with nothing but a dagger? Ambushes aren’t won from the ground.” The words left her mouth before she could stop them, and she immediately winced. Her expression faltered for a brief moment, her mind flashing to Krieger, but she quickly shook it off and plastered on a smile.

    Ariana let out an exaggerated sigh, leaning over him and placing a trail of soft kisses along his jawline. “Come on, Commander,” she murmured, her tone dripping with mock sweetness. “I’m not giving up, you know,” she warned, her grin mischievous. She straddled him, sitting on his waist as her hands pressed against his chest. “You promised if I wanted my Commander training with me, you’d be there…”

    His hands moved to her wrists again, holding them in place as his eyes finally opened fully. There was a glint of amusement in his tired gaze as he studied her. “Maker’s breath, you’re relentless.”

    “Only because I know you can’t resist me,” she teased, leaning down until their noses nearly touched.

    Cullen sighed, his lips twitching upward in a faint smile. “Alright, alright. I’m up.”

    “Really?” Ariana’s face lit up with triumphant excitement.

    “Yes,” he said, shifting to sit up and guide her off him. “But if I’m doing this, you’d better be ready to work.”

    “Oh, I’m always ready,” she shot back, hopping off the bed and stretching her arms over her head.

    Cullen swung his legs over the side of the bed, running a hand through his tousled hair as he watched her with a mix of fondness and exasperation. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone so determined to ruin a good night’s sleep.”

    “You’ll thank me later,” Ariana quipped, grabbing his hand and tugging him toward the door. “Come on, Commander. The courtyard’s waiting.”

    Cullen allowed himself to be pulled along, shaking his head with a soft laugh. “Maker help me, Ari. You’re insufferable.”

    “And yet you still want to marry me,” she tossed over her shoulder, her grin widening.

    “Unfortunately, I do,” he admitted, his voice laced with affection as they made their way out of the room and toward the courtyard.

    ~~~

    By the time Cullen and Ariana reached the courtyard, the soft glow of dawn was creeping over Skyhold, casting long shadows across the stone. Cullen’s initial fatigue faded when he noticed Michael and Linnea already sparring in the center. Michael’s strikes were heavy, methodical, while Linnea danced out of his reach, her parries quick and precise.

    Cullen slowed his steps, taking in the scene, while Ariana’s pace remained light and eager. Her energy always seemed endless—how she could be so lively before dawn baffled him.

    “Well, looks like we’re late,” Ariana quipped, her voice light with amusement. She glanced at Linnea, catching her eye and grinning.

    Linnea lowered her sword, her sharp eyes narrowing playfully at the sight of Ariana. “Or just in time,” she called out. “Care to join us?”

    Ariana exchanged a mischievous look with Linnea, her grin widening. “How about a team match? You and me against them.” She jerked her head toward Michael and Cullen.

    Michael raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. “You think you can take us?”

    “I know we can take you,” Ariana shot back, her tone dripping with mock confidence.

    Ariana exchanged a glance with Cullen, her grin widening before turning back to Linnea. “You’ll love this,” she said, her voice dripping with mock alarm. “Apparently, Templars don’t train in the dark. Or climb trees.”

    Linnea blinked in shock, her expression quickly morphing into mock horror. “Wait, what?” She turned to Cullen and Michael, incredulous.

    Cullen sighed, rubbing his hand over his face. He already didn’t like where this was going. “Why would we train in the dark?”

    Linnea let out a gasp of genuine disbelief, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “Because ambushes don’t wait for daylight!”

    Michael frowned, his voice matter-of-fact. “If it’s dark, you light a torch.”

    Linnea froze, staring at him like he’d just declared war on common sense. “With what hand? Do you give up the shield or the sword? Or do you just hope your enemies politely wait while you find your flint and start a campfire?”

    Cullen groaned internally. Maker, give me patience.

    Ariana doubled over in laughter, leaning against Linnea for support. “You see? This is why they’re hopeless.”

    “Clearly,” Linnea agreed, shaking her head in mock dismay. “We’re going to have to fix this.”

    “How exactly do you propose doing that?” Cullen asked dryly, crossing his arms.

    Linnea’s grin turned sly as she exchanged a knowing glance with Ariana. “Maybe this is an unfair match. Maybe we should switch pairs.”

    The two women turned to Cullen and Michael, their expressions unreadable. For a moment, Cullen almost thought they were serious—until they both shook their heads in unison.

    “No,” Ariana said, smirking. “I think we’re good.”

    Linnea clapped her on the shoulder. “Agreed. No switching. Feel free to light a torch.”

    Michael groaned. “Why do I put up with this?”

    “Because you love me,” Linnea shot back before immediately realizing what she’d said. Her face went pale as she turned to Ariana in alarm. “Uh… Wolf, I—”

    Cullen’s eyebrows rose slightly, and his gaze darted to Ariana, who stared at Linnea for a long moment before her lips twitched into a smirk.

    “Linnea,” Ariana interrupted, staring at her with mock incredulity. “That’s my brother.”

    “I can explain!” Linnea blurted, her voice rising.

    But Ariana burst out laughing, waving a hand as though dismissing the whole thing. “Maker, you two have been so bad at hiding this. Honestly, I don’t even know why you were trying.”

    Michael blinked in surprise. “You knew?”

    Before Ariana could answer, Riley’s voice cut through the courtyard. “Oh, Andraste’s arse, all the Rangers know. Wolf is right—you two are terrible at subtlety. Wolf was more successful at hiding Cullen for years.”

    Cullen groaned softly. “Must we bring me into this?”

    Riley strolled up to stand next to Ariana, who leaned casually against her. “Did you know,” Ariana said, turning to Riley, “that Templars don’t train in the dark?”

    Riley’s eyebrows shot up. “Wait, are you telling me all we needed to do in Kirkwall was ambush them at night?”

    “Or from above,” Linnea added. “They don’t climb trees either.”

    Riley groaned. “Maker’s breath… Wolf, why didn’t you tell us that sooner?”

    “I didn’t know!” Ariana protested, gesturing at Linnea. “Linnea is the spymaster.”

    Linnea pointed accusingly at Ariana. “You were the one involved with the Knight-Captain of Kirkwall. And your brother’s a Templar!”

    Cullen pinched the bridge of his nose. “Are the three of you done? Or can I go back to bed?”

    Ariana turned to Riley and Linnea, her grin turning wicked. She rolled out her neck, an unmistakable spark of mischief lighting her hazel-green eyes.

    “Well, shit,” Riley muttered, stepping back slightly. “Now we’re all in trouble. Are we helping them, Wolf?”

    “No,” Ariana replied, her grin widening. “Riley’s with me. Linnea can help my brother.” She raised an eyebrow at Linnea. “Since she’s apparently in love with him.”

    Linnea groaned, throwing up her hands. “That’s not fair! Why do I have to be on the losing team?”

    “Excuse me?” Michael interjected, clearly offended.

    Linnea turned to him, exasperated. “I’m not sparring against Wolf when she looks like that. And Wolf and Riley? Not a fair match.”

    Cullen cleared his throat, stepping forward. “It’s sparring, Linnea. You’ll be fine.”

    “What do you want, Linnea? Do you want to get Lamberto?” Ariana asked.

    “Did I hear my name?” Lamberto’s familiar voice interrupted from the path behind them. He appeared alongside Valentina.

    “Sparring match. We’re trying to even out the odds,” Ariana explained. “Riley is with me.”

    “And Cullen challenged Wolf,” Riley added.

    “Oh, then I’m only joining if I get to stay with Wolf,” Lamberto said, strolling up beside them.

    “Ugh,” Valentina grunted. “Are you saying I have to go to the losing team?” she asked, defeated.

    “Excuse me!” Michael interjected. “Nothing says we’ll lose. Cullen, Linnea, and I can handle Ariana just fine.”

    Almost in unison, Linnea, Riley, Lamberto, Valentina, and Ariana tilted their heads and exchanged confused glances.

    Michael crossed his arms, smirking. “Besides, Cullen has beat Ariana before, we just have to take Riley.”

    The courtyard fell silent. Cullen’s chest tightened as the words hung in the air. His mind flashed back to Kirkwall—the chaos, the blood, Ariana on her knees unable to fight anymore. His gaze darted to Ariana, expecting anger or hurt. Instead, her expression was unreadable—calm, except for the sharp glint in her eye.

    She smirked, setting aside two training swords. “Well, that does it. Clearly, Linnea has taught you nothing.”

    “Dammit,” Valentina muttered loudly.

    “I think you three should go help them,” Riley said finally, her knowing tone unmistakable.

    With that, Linnea, Lamberto, and Valentina walked over to Cullen and Michael, looking defeated already.

    “You really need to teach your boyfriend to stop talking,” Valentina muttered as she joined them, clearly resigned to the chaos.

    Linnea huffed. “How was I supposed to know he’d be this reckless? He’s her brother! He should know better!” she said as she shot Michael a playful glare that said she wasn’t done with him.

    Cullen sighed, shaking his head as the banter continued, but a small smile tugged at his lips. Even amidst the chaos, Ariana had a way of drawing everyone in, of making even the most mundane mornings feel alive.

    By the time the sparring match was over, Ariana had taken down most of them. She had faced three opponents at once while Riley dealt with the remaining two.

    “So… breakfast?” Ariana asked triumphantly, stretching her neck. “Isabel should have something ready.”

    She wrapped an arm around Linnea’s shoulders, her grin playful. “So… love? We going to talk about this?”

    Linnea groaned, throwing her head back dramatically. “I’m not saying I’ll deny it, but you don’t have to announce it to Skyhold, Wolf.”

    “I didn’t announce it,” Ariana shot back, laughing. “You did.”

    As they walked to the kitchen, Cullen couldn’t help but admire the woman he loved. Watching her like this, in her element, it was as if he were seeing her fully for the first time. The White Wolf—the one shaped by the Blight, the one who founded the Silver Rangers, the one who had spent her life helping those who could not help themselves. She had always been this person, even back in Kirkwall, but he had been too blinded by duty, by the weight of the Order, to truly see her.

    A small sense of guilt tugged at his chest. What if he had understood her sooner? What if he had been willing to listen—to truly see her when they stood on opposite sides of that war-torn city? Could they have worked together? Could they have stopped the war before it started?

    The thought was a bitter one, but he pushed it aside. He could not change the past, but he could make damn sure he didn’t waste any more time. He was more determined than ever to know everything about her—the woman, the warrior, the legend she had become. Because the more he learned, the more he realized: she was extraordinary.

    And he had never admired anyone more.

  • Chapter 80 – Anchor in the Storm

    Cullen leaned against the headboard of their quarters, his arms wrapped loosely around Ariana, who sat nestled between his legs. Her warmth, the subtle weight of her against his chest, was grounding in a way he hadn’t felt in what seemed like years. His fingers brushed absentmindedly against her arm as he gazed toward the balcony, watching the pale light of midmorning dance across the Frostbacks. For once, the endless stream of worries that usually crowded his thoughts was distant. Quiet.

    She sighed contentedly, her fingers tracing idle patterns on his arm, and he couldn’t help the faint smile tugging at his lips. How is it that she can make everything feel so still, so simple?

    “So,” he said softly, breaking the comfortable silence, “were you just trying to distract me earlier?”

    Ariana tilted her head back, her hazel-green eyes alight with amusement. “Maybe I was distracting both of us,” she replied, her smile lazy but teasing.

    His chuckle rumbled in his chest as he tightened his hold on her, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. “I suppose I can’t argue with the results,” he murmured, his voice laced with affection.

    For a time, they lapsed into quiet again, their breathing in sync as they sat entwined. But as Cullen’s mind wandered, a thought—unbidden and strangely persistent—began to surface. He frowned slightly, unsure of why it had returned to him now, but the memory refused to fade. Finally, he gave voice to it.

    “Can I ask you something?” he ventured, his tone tentative.

    Ariana twisted slightly to glance over her shoulder, her curiosity evident in her raised brow. “Anything,” she said simply, her smile reassuring.

    Cullen hesitated, his fingers brushing absently over her hand. “Back in Kirkwall,” he began slowly, “were you… responsible for all the intercepted mage transports?”

    Ariana blinked, startled, before a laugh escaped her lips. “That’s what you’re thinking about right now?” she asked incredulously, though her tone was light. “Are you asking if I, personally, was responsible or if the Rangers were responsible?”

    “Both?” Cullen replied, his lips quirking slightly as he met her gaze.

    She shifted, sliding lower against his chest as her head rested on his shoulder. “I suppose without seeing all the reports you had, I can only guess. But yes, the Rangers were responsible for most of them. As for me… I wasn’t personally involved in all of them. Only the ones I deemed riskier.”

    His brow furrowed slightly at that. “Riskier how?”

    Ariana’s gaze drifted toward the ceiling, her expression contemplative. “Larger groups. Stronger escorts. Or… when I was particularly angry,” she admitted, a faint smirk tugging at her lips.

    “Angry?” Cullen pressed gently, sensing a deeper story behind her words.

    She sighed, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the edge of his bracer. “Do you remember the day you caught me and Valentina leaving the warehouse in Lowtown?”

    Cullen stilled, the memory coming to him with startling clarity. He remembered the way she had stumbled into him, the tension in her voice when she explained her presence, and the way her words—and his—had left a chasm between them. “I remember,” he said quietly. “I told you… I just wished that whatever it was didn’t have to live in the space between us.”

    Ariana nodded, a faint, bittersweet smile playing on her lips. “Yes, that day. I was so angry after that. Not at you,” she added quickly, tilting her head to look at him. “Never at you. I was angry at myself for being careless. For having to hide. For being… less than what I should have been.”

    Cullen frowned. “Less?”

    “I’d spent months recovering after the Qunari uprising,” she explained, her voice soft but steady. “Months of idleness, of feeling like I was losing everything that made me… me. The White Wolf had become a ghost, a shadow. That day… that day I realized I wasn’t ready to let her fade into legend. I needed to prove to myself that she was still alive.”

    His arms tightened around her instinctively, his lips brushing her temple. “So, you did intercept the transport from Starkhaven?”

    She nodded again. “It was the first time I stepped into the field again after the uprising. I wasn’t sure if I was still capable. But by the end of it… I knew. The White Wolf wasn’t gone. She was just waiting.”

    Cullen was silent for a moment, his heart heavy with both admiration and regret. “I’m sorry,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

    “For what?” she asked, turning slightly to face him, her brow furrowed.

    “For everything I said. For every time I doubted you.” His gaze searched hers, raw with emotion. “For not being the man you needed me to be.”

    Ariana’s expression softened as she cupped his face in her hands. “You were always exactly the man I needed,” she said firmly, her voice steady. “You were in an impossible position, Cullen. We both were.”

    He leaned into her touch, his eyes closing briefly. When he opened them, they were drawn to her hand as it traced the faint scar above his lip. Her fingers lingered there, her eyes filled with a quiet intensity.

    “When did this happen?” she asked softly.

    “During the fight against Meredith,” he replied, his voice tinged with both pride and sorrow. “She… wasn’t holding back.”

    Ariana’s gaze darted to the horizon, her expression distant as memories of that night surfaced. “I don’t remember,” she admitted, her voice barely audible. “I saw you from across the courtyard, but… I was already—”

    “Bleeding,” Cullen finished for her, his tone gentle but firm. “Michael was practically carrying you out by the end. Ari, you’d lost so much blood by then, it’s no wonder you don’t remember.”

    Her lips parted as if to protest, but she closed them again, her eyes dropping to her lap. Cullen reached up, covering her hand with his own. “It wasn’t your fault,” he said quietly, his voice filled with conviction. “None of it was.”

    Ariana met his gaze, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. Slowly, she nodded, her fingers intertwining with his. “I know,” she said, her voice steady despite the emotion behind it. “And neither was it yours.”

    Cullen let out a shaky breath, leaning forward to press a kiss to her forehead. “Then let’s stop carrying it,” he murmured, his words a quiet plea.

    She smiled faintly, her arms slipping around his neck as she rested her forehead against his. “Together?” she asked softly.

    “Always,” he replied, his voice steady and sure.

    And in that moment, the weight of Kirkwall felt just a little lighter.

    ~~~

    Cullen stepped into the war room, Ariana just a step behind him, to find Leliana, Josephine, and Riley gathered around the table. Maps and reports were scattered across its surface, but none of them seemed particularly focused. Leliana wore her usual air of calm detachment, but there was a faint smirk tugging at her lips. Josephine, on the other hand, looked positively animated, her hands moving as she leaned toward Riley, who lounged back in her chair, grinning like she’d just shared the most scandalous bit of news.

    For a moment, Cullen felt out of place—like he’d walked into the middle of a conversation he wasn’t meant to overhear. But Ariana’s amused huff beside him pulled him out of his thoughts.

    “Am I interrupting something?” Ariana asked, her tone playful as she folded her arms and raised an eyebrow. “Or should I come back later when you’ve solved the mystery of Skyhold’s social intrigues?”

    Josephine straightened in her chair, a faint blush creeping to her cheeks. “Inquisitor, we were simply—”

    “Gossiping,” Riley cut in, unapologetic. “And quite thoroughly, I might add.”

    Ariana snorted, leaning against the edge of the table. “And here I thought the Inquisition’s greatest minds were hard at work. Let me guess—this is about the stablehand and the cook?”

    Riley grinned, her expression almost predatory. “No, but did you hear about Hawke and Iron Bull?”

    Ariana laughed, the sound bright and unabashed. “Oh, that’s so fake. Hawke would never cheat on Fenris. Have you seen Fenris? That is one gorgeous elf. And Hawke is absolutely in love with him.”

    Cullen’s lips twitched in a faint smile as he watched her, her energy infectious even when she was indulging in nonsense. He shook his head slightly, leaning against the wall.

    “Well,” Ariana continued, her grin widening, “I did hear about Flissa and Bull, though…”

    Josephine gasped softly, clearly delighted. “I hadn’t heard that one!”

    Riley waved a hand dismissively. “That’s old news. What’s really interesting is what Wolf just said—Bull has a thing for redheads. He’s just waiting for Leliana to notice him.”

    Leliana raised an eyebrow, her tone utterly deadpan. “How fortunate for him that I’m far too busy running a spy network to entertain such notions.”

    Ariana smirked, leaning closer to Riley as if sharing a secret. “You’d better be careful, Leliana. He might write you a poem.”

    “Iron Bull?” Josephine blinked. “A poem?”

    “Who’s to say he doesn’t have a secret romantic side?” Riley teased. “For all we know, the man writes sonnets in his spare time.”

    “I’ll take my chances,” Leliana replied dryly, though her faint smile suggested she wasn’t entirely immune to the humor.

    Josephine suddenly perked up. “Oh, speaking of surprises, I heard from Dorian that Cassandra and Varric are an item.”

    Ariana burst out laughing, holding her stomach as she doubled over slightly. “Oh, no. That one’s definitely not true. But—” she paused, a mischievous glint in her eyes, “—Dorian did ask them both about it last time we were in the Storm Coast. I thought Cassandra might throw him into the sea.”

    Cullen pinched the bridge of his nose, though his smile lingered. “Maker’s breath,” he muttered under his breath, finally cutting through the chatter. “Should I just come back later? Or do we have an Inquisition to run?”

    The group stilled for a moment before Riley grinned wider. “Wait, there’s one more rumor you might be interested in, Commander.”

    Cullen gave her a wary look. “What rumor?”

    Riley leaned back in her chair, clearly savoring the moment. “Word’s spreading outside Skyhold, all the way to Lydes and Denerim. Rangers are reporting that the Commander of the Inquisition proposed to the Inquisitor.”

    Ariana laughed first, the sound quickly joined by Riley and even Leliana. Josephine covered her mouth with her hand, giggling softly.

    Cullen sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Of course they are,” he said, though the faint warmth in his cheeks betrayed his exasperation. He wasn’t truly upset—how could he be? Everyone knew Ariana was his. He glanced at her, catching the way her eyes sparkled with amusement, and his heart softened despite himself.

    “Well,” Ariana teased, nudging his arm, “at least they got that one right.”

    Cullen shook his head, but he couldn’t suppress the small, almost shy smile tugging at his lips. “Shall we get started now, or are there more rumors I need to be aware of?”

    “Not yet,” Riley quipped, grinning. “But give it time, Commander. Give it time.”

    Cullen leaned against the edge of the war table, watching Ariana as she deftly worked through the morning’s tasks. The scene before him was familiar: maps strewn across the table, markers denoting troop movements and known threats, the hum of purposeful conversation filling the air. But his focus was on her—always on her.

    “Alright, let’s get to it before the Commander decides to run the Inquisition by himself…” Ariana teased, her voice carrying an easy warmth that made the room feel lighter. She paused, tilting her head with exaggerated thought. “On second thought… that’s not the worst idea.”

    Her smirk was infuriating and infectious all at once, drawing laughter from Leliana, Josephine, and Riley. Cullen sighed, shaking his head and resisting the urge to rise to her bait. “Andraste grant me patience…” he muttered, though the faint curve of his lips betrayed his amusement. He caught Ariana’s gaze, and the look she gave him—playful, confident, utterly maddening—made him smile despite himself.

    Still, he was here for a purpose. Straightening, he cleared his throat. “I believe I may have an update on the red templars you encountered.”

    Ariana raised a brow, intrigued. “Already? That was fast.”

    “It coincided with a search I had already ordered,” Cullen explained, keeping his tone measured. “It appears they’re smuggling red lyrium to Therinfal Redoubt.”

    Her expression sharpened, her focus narrowing like a blade. “What are you thinking?”

    “We find where the caravans come from and cut their supply,” he replied, his tone gaining an edge. “It should help to weaken them.”

    “Alright, you got a starting point for me?” she asked.

    That was the question Cullen had been dreading. He hesitated for the briefest moment before answering. “Signs are pointing to the Emerald Graves, or somewhere along that route.”

    She nodded thoughtfully, turning to Riley. “Do we have anyone out that way?”

    Riley stepped closer to the map, her brow furrowed in thought. “Yes, we do—well, sort of. The Rangers I mentioned in Lydes. We could redirect them down towards the Emerald Graves before they head home.”

    Ariana nodded, her decision swift. “Do it. Scouting only. If they can narrow it down for me, I’ll go handle it.”

    Cullen felt his stomach tighten. Maker help me. He wanted this investigation. He wanted to see the red templars weakened. But what he didn’t want was for Ariana to handle it personally. Yet he knew better than to argue. She wouldn’t listen, not when she had already made up her mind.

    “Anything else?” Ariana asked, her tone brisk.

    “Yes, Inquisitor,” Josephine chimed in, her polished voice carrying a note of curiosity. “We received a letter from King Alistair for you.” She handed over a sealed envelope.

    Ariana took the letter, breaking the seal with practiced ease. Cullen watched as she read, her expression softening, a chuckle escaping her lips. Then another. The sound was light, familiar—personal. Cullen frowned, his curiosity stirring. Did she know Alistair well enough to be laughing at his correspondence? And what was in it that she found so amusing?

    “Oh, that’s not good,” Ariana said suddenly, her tone shifting as she handed the letter to Riley. “Get Valentina and Linnea out there now.”

    Riley took the letter, scanning it quickly. She chuckled a few times as well, but her expression soon mirrored Ariana’s concern. “Yeah, we probably should save the man that funds most of our expenses…”

    “Funds?” Leliana and Josephine asked in unison, their voices laced with surprise.

    “What’s going on?” Cullen asked, frustration creeping into his tone. He hated being left in the dark, especially when it concerned the Inquisition.

    Ariana turned to him first, her expression calm but serious. “It would appear Venatori have infiltrated the palace. We need to root them out.”

    “Venatori?” Cullen’s frown deepened. “Why would they target the palace?”

    Before answering, Ariana turned to Josephine. “Rangers have had a contract with the King for years now, assisting in Ferelden’s rebuilding after the Blight.”

    Josephine blinked, clearly caught off guard. “Is there anyone you don’t know, Inquisitor?”

    Ariana laughed, the sound bright and unbothered. “A great many people, my dear ambassador.”

    Cullen, however, couldn’t quite let it go. His gaze lingered on her, trying to piece together the story behind the laughter, the inside jokes she clearly shared with the King of Ferelden. He didn’t know why it bothered him. It wasn’t jealousy—was it? No, it couldn’t be. But the ease with which she interacted with everyone, from soldiers to kings, was something he could never quite reconcile.

    As the morning wore on, the group worked seamlessly, organizing forces, redirecting scouts, and planning strategies. Cullen kept his focus on the tasks at hand, but his thoughts lingered on Ariana—on her ability to lead, to inspire, to shoulder burdens he sometimes wondered if anyone could bear. And somewhere in the back of his mind, the question still nagged at him: how well did she know Alistair, and why did it matter to him at all?

    ~~~

    The war room was quiet now, the earlier bustle of plans and reports replaced by a stillness that felt almost too loud. Ariana was already halfway to the door when Cullen reached out, catching her arm gently.

    “Ari, wait.”

    She turned to him, her expression curious. “What is it?”

    He hesitated, glancing toward the door to ensure they were alone. “Your… familiarity with King Alistair,” he began carefully. “It seemed… well, personal.”

    Ariana blinked, her lips twitching into a faint smile. “Personal?” she repeated, a note of humor creeping into her voice. “Cullen, are you… jealous?”

    His jaw tightened, and he straightened instinctively. “Jealous? I wouldn’t call it that,” he said quickly, though he could hear the slight defensiveness in his own tone. “I just… You seemed close.”

    Her smile widened, the glint of mischief in her eyes unmistakable. “You know he’s married, right? To Lyna Mahariel. The Hero of Ferelden? They had a Dalish ceremony, or so I hear. It’s not official since he rules with Anora, but still…” She trailed off, her tone teasing. “You’re worried about him?”

    Cullen flushed, suddenly feeling ridiculous. “That’s not the point,” he muttered, though the corner of his mouth twitched upward despite himself.

    Ariana laughed softly, shaking her head as she reached into her satchel. “Here,” she said, pulling out the letter Alistair had sent and handing it to him. “Read it for yourself. Maybe then you’ll understand.”

    Cullen took the parchment, his brow furrowing as he unfolded it. His eyes scanned the page, his lips moving faintly as he read:

    My most esteemed White Wolf—or is it Inquisitor now? Or something about Your Worship?

    First things first: an apology. I wasn’t in the best of moods the last time we saw each other. Sorry I didn’t have time to give you a better welcome. You’ll have to come to the palace. I’m still curious about the hand thingy.

    However, to the problem at hand. These cultists… Venatori, I think they’re called? We have them in the royal palace, or so I’m told. Like rats—but with magic and nasty sneers. I don’t know what they’re up to, but I need to find them and drive them out. Since you seem to know all about them, can you come fix this too?

    And since you’re paid to ‘fix all the things,’ that falls under our existing contract, right?

    Something something grateful something.

    Wait… did you just write that? You scribes do this on purpose, don’t you?

    King Alistair Theirin

    Cullen couldn’t stop the chuckle that escaped him. “Maker,” he muttered, shaking his head. “You’re saying this is the King… of Ferelden?”

    “Yes, well” Ariana said, leaning casually against the edge of the table. “That’s Alistair for you. Half king, half… I don’t even know.”

    He folded the letter, still smirking as he handed it back to her. “So, this is why you were amused?”

    She nodded, tucking the letter away. “The Rangers have worked for him for years. Bann Teagan was the one who reached out to us initially, but he eventually introduced us to Alistair. We’ve met only a few times—mostly when things needed fixing that he couldn’t handle himself, or when he came to find Varric, and then at Redcliffe when we recruited the mages. Other than that, it’s just the occasional letter like this.” She paused, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “Actually, the first time we met probably explains it best.”

    Cullen tilted his head, curiosity sparking in his eyes. “Go on.”

    “It was years ago, back around 9:32,” she began, leaning casually against the table. “We were called to Denerim by Bann Teagan, and when we arrived at the palace, Alistair was slouched over the throne like a bored tavern-goer waiting for his next drink. One leg draped over the armrest, the other stretched out on the floor. He looked at me, grinned like I’d just walked in with a tray of cookies, and said, ‘You’re the famous Silver Rangers, right? Or at least, you’re famous, according to Teagan here. He’s been singing your praises so loudly I think the pigeons have started delivering fan mail.’ Then we got sidetracked discussing the merits of pigeons as messengers. Then after Teagan finally got frustrated, Alistair got up, handed me a massive stack of reports and said, ‘Consider these your mission briefs. You’re officially tasked with… well, fixing all the things.’”

    Cullen chuckled, the mental image of the king’s casual demeanor clashing with the grandeur of the throne room clearly amusing him. “He said that?”

    “Word for word,” Ariana replied with a laugh. “I thought he was joking at first, but no—he meant it. I remember Bann Teagan looking like he wanted to strangle him right there. And Alistair, completely unfazed, just shrugged and then offered to pay us in pigeons.

    Cullen shook his head, smiling despite himself. “And you just… did it?”

    “Of course,” she said with a smirk. “We sorted out the issues, got the contracts rolling, and that was that. Afterward, he sent a pigeon—not a letter, an actual pigeon—with a message that just said, ‘Thanks for fixing all the things.’”

    Cullen laughed outright this time, the sound warm and genuine. “Maker’s breath, no wonder you find his letters amusing.”

    “See? Nothing to worry about,” Ariana said, stepping closer. “The man’s more afraid of me than anything else.”

    Cullen raised an eyebrow, his grin lingering. “I believe it.”

    “You do?” Ariana quirked an eyebrow. “You don’t seem afraid of me… are you?”

    Cullen’s smile softened, his head tilting slightly as he regarded her. “You have no idea.”

    Ariana chuckled, her hand brushing lightly against his chest as she stepped closer. “Good. Wouldn’t want you getting too comfortable, Commander.”

    “I doubt that’s a danger with you around,” Cullen replied, his tone laced with warmth. But then his smile faltered, the earlier conversation lingering in his thoughts. His voice lowered, edged with something more vulnerable. “You know… it’s not that I don’t trust you. It’s just… seeing how at ease you were about Alistair. It surprised me. I suppose it made me wonder…”

    She raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Wonder if I’ve had… entanglements with the King of Ferelden?”

    Cullen blinked, momentarily caught off guard. His jaw tightened, and a slight flush crept up his neck. “I wouldn’t have phrased it like that,” he said quickly, his tone more defensive than he intended. “But—”

    “But you were thinking it,” Ariana teased, her voice lilting with playful accusation.

    “I—” He faltered, then sighed, his shoulders dropping slightly. “Perhaps the thought crossed my mind.”

    Ariana shook her head, her laughter soft but genuine. “Oh, Cullen…” Her expression shifted then, the teasing smile fading, replaced by something quieter. Her hand tightened slightly on his chest, grounding herself as her gaze softened. “You have nothing to worry about,” she said gently. “There’s never been anyone else.”

    Her words settled heavily between them, and Cullen froze, staring at her as if he’d misheard. “Never?” he echoed, his voice barely above a whisper.

    Ariana met his eyes, her confidence unwavering, though there was a brief flicker of something softer—an almost bashful look that vanished as quickly as it had come. “Not after the Blight. Not after Kirkwall. Not… ever.”

    Cullen’s heart lurched, the weight of her confession slamming into him with an intensity he wasn’t prepared for. He searched her face for any sign of jest or embellishment but found only the unflinching truth in her eyes. “You mean…” He hesitated, the enormity of what she was saying rendering him momentarily speechless. “I was your first?” His voice softened, almost disbelieving. “And… your only?”

    Ariana cleared her throat as a faint blush crept on her cheeks, her voice steady but quiet. “Well… when you put it that way…”

    He swallowed hard, his breath uneven as her words sank in. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe her—it was that he couldn’t quite grasp the depth of what it meant. All this time, through years of separation, through everything she’d endured… she’d held onto him. To them.

    “I… Maker’s breath, Ari,” he murmured, his hand lifting to brush against her cheek. “I didn’t… I never imagined…”

    “For a long time,” Ariana continued, her gaze not leaving his, “I didn’t fully understand what you meant to me. Or maybe I didn’t let myself.” She paused, her words faltering for the first time. Her eyes flickered down briefly, her fingers brushing against his hand as if grounding herself. When she spoke again, her voice was quieter but steady. “I think I was afraid to realize it. Afraid of how much you meant. But… no matter where I went or who I met… no one was ever you.”

    Cullen’s grip on her hand tightened, his chest tightening with a mix of emotions—gratitude, guilt, awe. “Ari,” he began, his voice rough with emotion. “I never… I didn’t realize.”

    Her lips curved into a faint smile, bittersweet but unwavering. “I didn’t expect you to. But it’s true. It’s always been you, Cullen. No matter how much time or distance or chaos came between us, that never changed.”

    Cullen felt a lump rise in his throat, his free hand running through his hair as he tried to process the magnitude of her words. He had spent so long believing himself unworthy—of her, of love, of peace. And now, here she was, laying bare the depth of her devotion. It was almost too much to bear.

    “You’ve given me more than I deserve,” he said finally, his voice cracking slightly. “I don’t know how I can ever live up to that.”

    Ariana’s fingers brushed against his cheek, her touch light but grounding. “There’s nothing for you to live up to, Cullen. You just have to be you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

    He closed his eyes briefly, leaning into her touch as her words settled over him. When he looked at her again, his gaze was warm but intense, as though truly seeing her for the first time. “I… Maker, I love you, Ariana.”

    Her smile widened, her eyes shining with a warmth that eased the ache in his chest. “I love you too.”

    Cullen let out a shaky breath, pulling her into his arms and holding her tightly. For a long moment, they stood there in silence, the weight of her confession settling between them like a quiet promise. He hadn’t fully understood what he meant to her before, but now, the truth was clear. He wasn’t just her Commander, or her fiancée, or even the man she loved. He was her first, her only—and he would be her last.

    “I don’t know how you endured so much on your own,” Cullen murmured, his voice soft as he held her close.

    Ariana leaned her head against his chest, her voice quiet but resolute. “I wasn’t alone. Not really. You were always with me, Cullen. Even when you weren’t.”

    And for the first time, Cullen truly understood: she wasn’t just his anchor—he was hers.

    ~~~

    After leaving the war room, Cullen had gone off to yell at more soldiers and recruits—or so Ariana imagined. She loved that man, but she wasn’t sure he could be truly happy unless he was ordering people around, albeit lovingly. She knew all too well that Cullen cared for his people as deeply as she cared for hers.

    Her path took her to the room Solas had claimed as his own, where his half-finished murals adorned the walls. She hadn’t seen much of him in recent weeks, and, truthfully, she had missed their conversations. There was something captivating about the way Solas spoke of the Fade, of spirits and the vast mysteries of the world. It pulled at the same part of her that had once dreamed of exploration and discovery.

    She found him at his desk, leafing through tomes filled with writings she doubted anyone else in Skyhold could decipher. “Solas, am I interrupting?” she asked tentatively.

    He turned, offering that familiar, soft smile. “Not at all, Inquisitor.”

    Ariana rolled her eyes. “Oh, please, not you too. Just call me Ariana. Or Wolf, if you prefer.”

    “Wolf?” Solas quirked an eyebrow, though his tone made it seem as if he were testing the word rather than questioning it. “Very well, Wolf.”

    She couldn’t quite discern the flicker of satisfaction in his expression, but she chose not to press. Instead, she leaned casually against the doorframe. “I’ve been thinking about what you told me before—about your studies, your travels. If you have time, I’d like to hear more.”

    Solas studied her for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly as if measuring her sincerity. “You continue to surprise me,” he said finally. “Very well. Let us talk… though perhaps somewhere more interesting than this.”

    Without another word, he gestured toward a small sitting area on the opposite side of the room. Ariana followed him, curious but uncertain. When they sat, Solas turned to her with a piercing, almost curious look. “Do you trust me?” he asked suddenly.

    The question gave her pause. But she nodded after a moment, her voice soft. “I do.”

    Solas smiled faintly. “Then close your eyes.”

    She tilted her head but complied, her curiosity outweighing her caution. The room fell into silence as she closed her eyes, her breathing slowing. For a moment, she felt the faint pull of magic—familiar but subtle. Then everything faded.

    When Ariana opened her eyes, she was standing in Haven.

    The realization struck her like a splash of cold water. The Breach hung in the sky, jagged and glowing, its edges pulsing faintly with ominous energy. Her eyes darted to the mountains, and her stomach tightened. There was no sign of the avalanche, no debris or destruction. Everything was as it had been before…

    Before I closed the Breach, she thought, her pulse quickening. “Solas?” she asked, her voice quieter than she intended. “What is this?”

    “It is Haven, as you remember it,” Solas replied, appearing at her side. His tone was calm, almost amused. “A place that is deeply tied to you.”

    Ariana frowned, her brow furrowing. “But that’s impossible. The Breach—”

    “Where do you think we are, Wolf?” Solas interrupted gently, his gaze steady.

    Her breath caught as understanding dawned. “This… isn’t real,” she whispered.

    Solas inclined his head. “That is a matter of perspective, but yes. We are in the Fade.”

    The Fade. The word sent a shiver down her spine, though not from fear. She turned slowly, taking in her surroundings. The flickering edges of the buildings, the faint hum of energy in the air—it was both familiar and otherworldly. Her lips parted slightly as wonder overtook her. “It’s… beautiful,” she murmured.

    Solas watched her, his expression unreadable. “Most mortals find the Fade unsettling,” he remarked. “Few describe it as you just did.”

    Ariana turned to him, her eyes bright with curiosity. “How could anyone not be fascinated by this?”

    Solas smiled faintly but didn’t respond. Instead, he gestured toward one of the houses. She followed him inside, where a small bed sat in the center of the room. “I sat beside you here while you slept, studying the Anchor,” he said, his voice quieter now.

    “And keeping me alive, from what I hear,” Ariana added with a small smile. “How long did it take to study the mark on my hand?”

    “A magical mark of unknown origin, tied to a unique breach in the Veil?” Solas’ voice carried an edge of excitement. “Longer than you might think. I ran every test I could imagine, searched the Fade for answers… and found nothing.”

    “Nothing?” Ariana asked, tilting her head. “That doesn’t sound like you.”

    Solas chuckled softly. “Cassandra certainly didn’t think so. She threatened to have me executed as an apostate if I didn’t produce results.”

    Ariana laughed, shaking her head. “She does that with everyone. She threatened to kill me when I woke up.”

    “Did she?” Solas quirked an eyebrow. “Yes, that does sound like her.”

    He continued, his tone growing more reflective. “You were never going to wake up. How could you? A mortal sent physically through the Fade? I was frustrated, frightened. The spirits I might have consulted had been driven away by the Breach. I was ready to flee.”

    Ariana blinked. “Flee? But… the Breach threatened the whole world. Where would you have gone?”

    “Someplace far away,” Solas said with a shrug, though there was a faint trace of self-deprecation in his voice. “Where I might research a way to repair the Breach before its effects reached me. I never said it was a good plan.”

    “Well, I’m glad you stayed,” Ariana said sincerely. “Even if your plan wasn’t great.”

    “As am I,” Solas replied, his voice softening. “You hold the key to our salvation, Wolf. When I saw you seal the rift, I felt the whole world change.”

    “Felt the whole world change?” she asked surprised at his reaction.

    Solas smiled softly at her “You had walked in the Fade. I have explored the Fade more than anyone alive, but even I can only visit in dreams. But you… you might have been able to visit me here while awake.”

    Before Ariana could respond, Solas continued. “But that’s probably best discussed after you wake up.” Then the world around her began to blur, the edges dissolving into light.

    She woke with a start, her chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. The room was dark, the faint glow of moonlight filtering through the window. For a moment, she sat still, her thoughts racing. The Fade… she had been there. Fully conscious. Awake.

    “That was incredible,” she whispered to herself, a small, exhilarated smile breaking across her face.

    ~~~

    Cullen was getting tired. He had been staring at reports for hours, and they never seemed to end. Maybe Ariana was right—maybe he did need to get some rest. He found himself reading the same lines over and over before the words registered.

    “Commander!” A soldier burst into his office without knocking.

    “What?” Cullen barked, already irritated by the interruption.

    “The Inquisitor, ser,” the soldier began but faltered, clearly at a loss for words. The hesitation alone set Cullen on edge.

    “The Inquisitor, what?” Cullen demanded, his voice rising. “Speak!”

    The soldier’s eyes darted nervously. “She—well, they say she collapsed.”

    “What?” Cullen froze for a heartbeat before striding toward the soldier, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “What do you mean she collapsed?”

    Clearing his throat, the soldier stammered, “People… people are saying they saw Solas carrying her to her quarters. She was unconscious…”

    Cullen didn’t wait to hear the rest. His stomach churned, and he bolted out of his office, leaving the soldier mid-sentence. His boots thundered against the stone floors as he sprinted through Skyhold’s main hall, barely registering the questioning glances from Leliana and Josephine as he passed. He didn’t care about the stares or whispers. All that mattered was Ariana.

    He pushed the door to their quarters open with more force than intended and rushed up the stairs. His heart was pounding, but relief flooded him when he saw her sitting up on the bed. Her breaths were shallow and uneven, but she was awake. She turned to him, her hazel-green eyes meeting his, though something about her gaze seemed… distant.

    “Cullen?” Ariana asked, her tone laced with confusion. “Is everything alright?”

    He rushed to her side, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Ari, what do you mean? That’s what I came to ask you,” he said, his voice tight with concern. “Are you alright?”

    “I… yes, why wouldn’t I be?” she asked, tilting her head as if the question confused her.

    “Ari, Maker’s breath—do you even know how you got here?” he pressed.

    She blinked, glancing around the room before her eyes returned to his. There was a flicker of something—uncertainty, perhaps—but it vanished as quickly as it appeared. “I… no… I was talking to Solas…” Her words trailed off, but then she smiled, her expression softening into something almost dreamlike.

    Cullen’s stomach twisted. “Ari, what happened?” he asked, his tone urgent but careful.

    “It was incredible, Cullen,” she said, her voice light and breathless with awe. The exhilaration in her tone was undeniable, but so was the uneven cadence of her breathing. Her chest rose and fell quickly, as though the memory itself had left her winded.

    “What was?” Cullen asked, his concern deepening.

    “The Fade,” she said, the wonder in her voice making the words feel heavier. “It was… we were in Haven. The Breach was still in the sky. I could see it, explore it. I can remember it…” Her hands gestured faintly as if trying to describe something too vast for words.

    Cullen’s blood ran cold. “The Fade?” he echoed, his voice dropping into a sharp whisper. “Ari, what are you saying? You’re not a mage—you can’t just… walk the Fade.”

    “I didn’t, not by myself,” Ariana said quickly, shaking her head. “Solas was there.”

    Cullen’s jaw tightened, his hand moving to grasp hers. “Solas?” he repeated, his voice strained. “Ari, you don’t understand the danger you were in. The Fade isn’t safe—not for anyone, least of all someone without training.”

    Ariana frowned, pulling her hand back slightly, her earlier dazed smile fading for only a moment. “I wasn’t alone,” she said firmly. “I trust Solas. He wouldn’t have let anything happen to me.”

    Cullen stood abruptly, pacing to the other side of the room as his frustration bubbled over. “Ari, do you even hear yourself? You put your trust—your life—in the hands of a man who spends half his time defending demons and the other half spouting theories no one can understand!”

    “Not demons. Spirits,” Ariana corrected, her voice rising slightly. “He’s—he’s seen so much. Everything he’s told me, everything he’s shown me—it’s all been…” She paused, searching for the right word. “Eye-opening.”

    Cullen turned to face her, his expression a mix of anger and worry. “How was this even possible, Ari?” he asked, his voice low but intense.

    “Solas thinks it’s because of the mark,” she admitted, her tone softening. “He believes it’s tied to more than just sealing rifts. That it might allow me to interact with the Fade in ways no one else can.”

    Cullen’s shoulders stiffened, his mind racing. “Ari, do you have any idea how dangerous that is? The mark—it’s already unpredictable. And now you’re telling me it might be making you more vulnerable to the Fade?” He shook his head, his frustration giving way to fear. “This isn’t safe. None of it is.”

    Ariana hesitated for only a moment before leaning forward, reaching for him with both hands. Her fingers brushed his as her hazel-green eyes locked onto his, still shining with unrelenting excitement. “Cullen, you don’t understand,” she said, her voice tinged with awe. “It was like nothing I’ve ever experienced. The Fade—it was beautiful. I could feel it, touch it, be in it. It wasn’t like a dream—it was real. It was alive.”

    Her words stopped him cold. Her hands tightened over his, as though grounding herself in the memory, her breaths shallow but quickened with exhilaration.

    “Ari…” Cullen’s voice cracked, his fear and frustration bubbling over. “Do you even hear yourself? This—this isn’t normal. It isn’t safe. And the fact that you can’t see that…” He stopped, his jaw tightening.

    “I felt safe, Cullen,” she said, her voice soft but insistent. “Solas was with me. It wasn’t reckless—it was…” She trailed off, a wistful smile curving her lips.

    Cullen stared at her, helpless against the gulf forming between them. She was here in front of him, but part of her was still in the Fade. He could see it in the distant gleam of her eyes, the way her breaths remained uneven, and the faint shimmer of the mark on her hand as it caught the light.

    “You’re not back yet,” he said finally, his voice quiet and strained. “Not fully.”

    Her brow furrowed faintly, confusion flickering in her gaze before she shook her head. “I am. I promise.” She smiled faintly, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

    Cullen let out a slow breath, his hand moving to cup hers gently. “Ari, you need to rest. Just… stay here. Let me take care of you.”

    Ariana tilted her head, her expression softening. “You always do,” she murmured.

    “Always,” Cullen said, his voice steady but heavy with unspoken worry. He wrapped an arm around her, guiding her to rest against him, even as his mind raced. Whatever she had seen in the Fade… it wasn’t finished with her. And neither, it seemed, was Solas.

  • Chapter 79 – Through the Night

    29 -30 Justinian 9:41

    The following morning, Ariana woke up alone. Of course he’s gone already, she thought, the cold side of the bed a sharp contrast to the warmth of the covers she hadn’t wanted to leave. She sat up slowly, brushing her fingers through her hair as she glanced toward the window. The light was dim—dawn had barely broken—but she knew Cullen would already be moving, carrying the weight of his title before most had even stirred.

    The thought left a knot in her chest. He hadn’t been sleeping much lately, not even with her there to ground him. She could feel the fatigue radiating off him every time she touched his hand or caught his gaze. That bone-deep weariness was written in the lines of his face, and as much as he tried to hide it behind a composed mask, Ariana saw through it. She always did.

    Sliding out of bed, she dressed quickly, her boots barely making a sound on the stone floor as she descended toward his office. It was empty. Of course it is. The war room was her next stop, but from the bridge, she caught sight of Cullen below in the training yard, speaking with Riley. Relief mixed with mild irritation at how early he’d risen yet again.

    As she approached them, Cullen turned toward her, a faint smile softening his features. Even Riley glanced up with a smirk, though her usual sharp wit was tempered by an undercurrent of respect.

    “Well, you two are scheming early this morning,” Ariana quipped as she approached, tucking her hands into the folds of her coat.

    Cullen glanced up, his lips quirking into a faint smile. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

    “Or maybe you’re just sleeping too much… Inquisitor,” Riley teased, her smirk sharp as a dagger.

    “Riley,” Ariana warned, her tone laced with mock severity, “I’ll make Valentina first lieutenant if you keep that up.”

    Riley laughed, unperturbed. “As if she’d take the job. She’s not ready to deal with your particular brand of difficult.”

    Ariana arched a brow but couldn’t suppress the faint tug of a smile. “Keep it up, Riley.”

    “I mean, you’re already picking up Alistair’s habits,” Riley continued, gesturing toward the reports in her hands. “Next thing you’ll tell me is to ‘fix all the things.’”

    “Well, I wasn’t going to say that… but it’s not a bad idea.” Ariana smirked, before adding, “Actually, who’s at the manor right now?”

    Riley tilted her head, considering. “I think Eshara and Ghis are there with their squads. Elliott too.”

    Ariana’s grin turned sly. “Eshara and Ghis again? Something there?”

    “Maybe,” Riley replied, her own expression knowing. “Haven’t figured it out yet, but it sure seems that way.”

    Shaking her head, Ariana waved the thought away. “Alright, send them to meet with Arl Teagan. The Hinterlands are still a mess. See if they can bring in the remaining rebel mages and Templars. And if they can’t, have them deal with it.” She glanced at Cullen. “Unless the Commander has objections?”

    “None,” he said, nodding. “Easier than deploying additional soldiers.”

    “You got it, Wolf,” Riley said, turning to leave. “Anything else?”

    “Stick around Skyhold for now. I’m going to need you.”

    Riley arched a brow at that but merely shrugged. “By your order, Wolf.”

    As Riley strode away, Ariana turned to Cullen. Her teasing smile faded, replaced by something softer, more concerned. “Did you sleep?” His exhaustion wasn’t new, but it was worse. She knew he worked harder when she was away—he’d all but confessed as much once—but this… this was different. Even with her here, he wasn’t resting.

    Cullen hesitated. “Ari, I came to bed with you last night.”

    “And yet…” Ariana’s gaze searched his, unyielding. “That wasn’t my question, Cullen.”

    He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Ari—”

    “You can’t keep this up forever,” she interrupted, frustration threading through her voice. She didn’t want to push him here, not in the middle of the courtyard, but the words slipped out before she could stop them. Shaking her head, she forced a small, tired smile and turned to leave.

    Before she could take another step, his hand caught her wrist, the familiar warmth grounding her. “Come,” he said, his voice soft but insistent. “I have something to show you.”

    His faint smile and the light in his tired eyes stopped her short. There was something he wasn’t telling her, something he’d clearly planned. Against her better judgment, she nodded, letting him interlace his fingers with hers as he led her back toward the main hall. Instead of heading to the familiar corridors, he took a turn toward the guest quarters.

    “Where are we going?” she asked, her curiosity growing as he guided her toward the left wing.

    Cullen didn’t answer right away, though his smile widened as he pulled a blindfold from his pocket. “Put this on,” he said, the mischievous glint in his eyes deepening.

    Ariana stared at him, her eyebrows raising. “I’m sorry, what? You expect me to walk through Skyhold blindfolded?”

    “Trust me,” he replied simply, the confidence in his tone making her heart flutter.

    Ariana huffed but tied the blindfold over her eyes, curiosity outweighing her skepticism. “And now what?” she asked, arms crossed.

    Without warning, Cullen swept her off her feet. A soft gasp escaped her, quickly replaced by laughter. “Cullen, what are you doing?”

    “You’ll see,” he replied, his tone betraying a hint of mischief.

    The journey felt longer than it should have, her sense of direction muddled by the blindfold and the steady rhythm of his steps. Stairs—she counted more than she expected—then the faint creak of a door. Finally, he set her down gently, guiding her forward a few steps into the cold mountain air.

    “Close your eyes,” he murmured, his hands brushing against hers as he untied the blindfold. “You can open them now.”

    When she did, the sight before her stole her breath. They stood on a balcony high above Skyhold, the Frostback Mountains stretching endlessly in the distance. The sunlight danced across the snow-covered peaks, painting the world in hues of gold and white. Ariana turned, catching sight of the room behind them—a space unlike anything she’d seen before.

    The vaulted ceilings soared above, adorned with intricate banners and stained glass that caught the light. Rich carpets lined the stone floor, while tapestries and paintings gave the walls life. A grand bed sat against one wall, flanked by carved wooden tables. Shelves brimming with books lined the opposite side, and a couch and desk completed the space. The air carried the faint scent of pine and aged parchment, grounding her in the moment.

    “Cullen… what is this place?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

    “Your quarters,” he said simply, his smile widening.

    Her eyes darted between the furnishings, the balconies, the view. “What? How—when—” She couldn’t even form a coherent thought. All she could do was smile, her chest swelling with an unfamiliar warmth. She turned back to him, his knowing expression saying everything she needed to know. He had done this for her. Spent weeks planning and preparing this.

    It wasn’t just a room. It was a gift. A promise.

    And in that moment, she realized something she hadn’t before. Cullen, for all his insecurities about their past—her nobility, his common upbringing—had always doubted he could give her what he thought she deserved. No matter how many times she told him she didn’t care, that she didn’t need grand gestures or lavish displays, he had carried that weight. But now, as Commander of the Inquisition, he seemed to believe he finally could.

    This wasn’t just about the room. It was about him. About them. About the life they were building together.

    Without warning, she ran to him, jumping into his arms and wrapping herself around him. He caught her, laughing as she pressed kisses to his face, his neck, anywhere she could reach.

    “So,” he said, his voice warm with amusement. “I take it you like it?”

    “It’s incredible,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. For once, she didn’t try to downplay the gesture or insist it wasn’t necessary. It was necessary—for him, for them. Her lips brushed against his. This time, the kiss was soft, lingering, filled with everything she couldn’t put into words.

    “And,” she added, her voice turning sultry as she leaned closer, “you know… it’s still early.” Her fingers trailed lightly along his jaw, her smile softening. “And we don’t get mornings like this often.”

    Her words carried a double meaning, one Cullen didn’t miss. It wasn’t just about the room, or the view, or the way his arms felt like home. It was the fleeting nature of these moments—stolen amidst the chaos of their lives—that made them precious. He was the Commander, she was the Inquisitor, and both of them knew that duty rarely left room for mornings like these. But here, now, they had carved one out.

    “That we don’t,” Cullen murmured, his lips quirking into a smile as he carried her toward the bed. “And I’d hate to waste it.”

    ~~~

    Despite the pleasant and surprising turn her morning had taken, Ariana’s thoughts kept drifting back to Cullen. The new quarters, his quiet pride in showing her something he had clearly spent weeks arranging—it had left her feeling closer to him than ever. But the worry remained. She knew he was pushing himself too far, and she would need to have that conversation with him soon. Not now, though. If she’d learned anything from their time in Kirkwall, it was that Cullen had a stubborn streak as wide as the Waking Sea, and pushing him at the wrong moment only led to frustration for them both.

    Instead, she turned her focus elsewhere. Passing through the main hall, she caught sight of Varric hunched over a table near the hearth, surrounded by a mountain of paperwork that could rival Cullen’s desk. The sight brought a wry smile to her lips. “Battling the demons of paperwork? That’s a fight nobody walks away from clean.”

    Varric looked up, his lips quirking into a grin. “You have no idea the number of times I’ve almost been killed by bills of lading. Paper cuts are a silent killer, Pup.”

    Ariana chuckled, stepping closer and glancing at the precarious stack of reports. “You should’ve told me. I would’ve sent Riley to save you. She loves a good battle.”

    “Riley would probably just add more paperwork to the pile,” Varric said, setting down his quill. But the usual ease in his voice faltered, replaced by something heavier. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

    Ariana tilted her head, her humor fading at the shift in his tone. “Should I be worried?”

    Varric hesitated, running a hand through his hair. “I never officially joined the Inquisition, you know. I don’t really know how to do this… disciple-hood thing. I’m a businessman, not exactly the ‘follow the chosen one’ type.”

    Ariana crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow. “Disciple-hood? Really, Varric? Maker’s breath, I don’t even know how to deal with all this. Just make something up. It’ll be fine.”

    Varric huffed a small laugh, some of the tension easing from his posture. “Oh, so we’re saving the world through bullshit now?”

    “Haven’t we always?” she replied with a shrug, her lips twitching into a faint smirk.

    “Well, alright, I can manage that.” Varric chuckled, shaking his head. But the humor was short-lived. He leaned back in his chair, his gaze dropping to the papers in front of him. “Speaking of bullshit, though… I guess you want to know more about my history with Corypheus.”

    Ariana’s smirk faded as she took a seat across from him. “I was wondering when you were going to tell me.”

    He sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “Like Hawke said, it was after the Qunari uprising. The Hawke family was a target—assassins were being sent after them left and right. We tracked them to a ruin in the Vimmarks.”

    “Wait, assassins? You didn’t think to tell me that back then?” Ariana’s voice was sharp with disbelief, though not anger. “You both knew Valentina used to be a Crow, right? She could’ve helped.”

    “You were busy, Pup,” Varric said softly. “And still recovering. At first, it just seemed like any other job. Nothing we hadn’t handled before.”

    “But?” Ariana prompted, sensing the shift in his tone.

    “But,” Varric continued, “it turned out to be a trap. Once you got far enough into the ruin, there was this magical barrier—kept you from going back. The whole thing was a prison the Grey Wardens were using to hold what they thought was a powerful darkspawn.”

    Ariana frowned, leaning forward. “I’ve never heard of Wardens imprisoning darkspawn. Why not just kill him?”

    “That’s what we thought too.” Varric’s voice dropped, his gaze fixed on the table. “But I’m starting to think it wasn’t that simple. I think they locked him up because he couldn’t be killed.”

    Ariana’s brow furrowed. “But you and Hawke both said you thought you killed him.”

    Varric’s head snapped up, his voice suddenly sharp. “We didn’t just think he was dead, Pup. He was dead. No pulse. No breath. Full of stab wounds. There wasn’t a lot of room for doubt.”

    She placed a hand over his, her voice gentle. “I believe you, Varric. It doesn’t make me feel any better to know that, but I believe you.”

    Varric let out a shaky breath, his shoulders slumping. “Maker’s breath, what have I let loose?”

    “You might be confused,” Ariana said, arching an eyebrow. “‘Brutally murdered’ isn’t really the same as ‘unleashed upon the world,’ Varric.”

    “In this case, it might be,” he muttered.

    Ariana studied him for a moment, her hand still resting on his. The weight of guilt he carried was evident in the tension around his eyes, the way his fingers fidgeted with the edge of a report. He and Hawke seemed to believe this was their fault—that their actions had somehow set Corypheus free. Maybe they had, in a way. But Ariana wasn’t so sure. Men like Corypheus didn’t seem the type to be stopped by a single misstep. If it hadn’t been them, it would have been someone else.

    She sat back, folding her arms. “You know this isn’t all on you, right?”

    Varric looked up at her, skepticism flickering in his gaze. “Doesn’t feel that way.”

    “Well, it shouldn’t,” she said firmly. “You didn’t put him in that prison, Varric. The Grey Wardens did. And if they thought locking him away was a good idea, maybe that’s where the blame belongs.”

    His lips quirked into a half-smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Thanks, Pup. You’re terrible at this whole absolution thing, but… thanks.”

    Ariana chuckled softly, leaning her elbows on the table. “I’m just saying, you’re not carrying this alone. You’ve got me. You’ve got Hawke. Hell, you’ve got half of Skyhold.”

    Their conversation eventually drifted to lighter topics, Varric’s humor slowly returning. But as Ariana left him to his mountain of paperwork, she couldn’t shake the image of his troubled expression. Corypheus wasn’t just a name to him—it was a wound, a ghost he couldn’t outrun. And as much as she wanted to believe they could stop this, a part of her couldn’t help but wonder if he was right to be so afraid.

    ~~~

    If Ariana was going to figure out what was going on with Cullen, she was going to need help. And she knew just the right person—or people, rather. Isabel always had a way of noticing things, and Emma… Well, if anyone could spot when Cullen was distracted or distant, it was Emma. The girl adored him, and the feeling was mutual.

    It was nearing midday as Ariana made her way toward the kitchens, hoping she’d find them both there. With any luck, they’d still be in their usual rhythm of preparing lunch together. As she passed through the courtyard, her gaze caught on the battlements above. Cullen stood there, speaking with some soldiers. He gestured animatedly, his voice low but commanding, and she couldn’t help but smile. For a brief moment, he seemed… lighter, less weighed down by the exhaustion she had seen earlier.

    But she knew it wouldn’t last. Whatever was keeping him up at night wasn’t something a single moment of relief could fix. Shaking the thought away, she continued on her path.

    The warmth of the kitchen hit her immediately as she stepped inside, the scent of rosemary and fresh dough mingling in the air. Isabel stood at the counter, her hands deftly slicing herbs, while Emma was at her usual spot, kneading dough with an intense focus. It was a familiar, comforting sight, and for a moment, Ariana let herself relax.

    “Ariana, looking for lunch?” Isabel’s voice pulled her from her thoughts, her tone light but knowing.

    Ariana smiled, realizing she hadn’t eaten anything all day. Between the morning with Cullen and her conversation with Varric, she’d completely forgotten about food—and coffee, for that matter. “I… actually hadn’t thought about it, but now that you mention it, I haven’t eaten today.”

    “What am I to do with you, child?” Isabel chided, though her smile softened the words. There was no real frustration in her tone, just the gentle affection Ariana had come to rely on over the years.

    Ariana chuckled, moving closer to the counter. “Did you know? About the room Cullen prepared?”

    Isabel’s smile widened as she set down her knife. “I did. Who do you think arranged for all the furniture deliveries? That man loves you more than I think even he realizes.”

    Ariana’s heart warmed at the words, and she couldn’t help but smile. “And I love him, Isabel.”

    “Would you look at that? You two are finally not keeping secrets from each other… mostly,” Isabel said, though the teasing edge in her voice shifted at the end, leaving Ariana with a faint sense of unease.

    “Mostly?” Ariana raised an eyebrow, suspicion creeping into her tone. “Isabel, what do you mean by that? You sound like you know something.”

    Isabel’s gaze didn’t waver as she turned back to her herbs. “It’s not my place to tell you, child. And no, I don’t know everything he’s keeping. You’ll have to talk to him. But,” she paused, glancing at Emma, “we both know he’s not the only one with secrets.”

    Ariana stiffened, her sharp gaze meeting Isabel’s, though she waved a hand dismissively. She knew exactly what Isabel was referring to, and that wasn’t a conversation she planned on having—not now, and certainly not in front of Emma. “I do need to ask you something,” she said, steering the conversation back. “Has he been sleeping?”

    Isabel’s expression sobered, her shoulders sinking slightly. “Not much, from what I can tell. I’ll make his bed sometimes, and it stays that way for days at a time.”

    The answer didn’t surprise her, but it still left a pit in her stomach. Ariana glanced down at Emma, who was focused intently on her dough, her small hands working with care. “Hey, cub,” Ariana said softly, her voice lightening as she crouched to Emma’s level. “How’s it going there?”

    Emma beamed, her face lighting up as she looked at Ariana. “Good! Mom said we’re making rosemary bread!”

    “Rosemary bread? That sounds delightful,” Ariana replied, smiling as she reached out to gently ruffle Emma’s hair.

    “Have you been keeping up with your training, recruit?” she teased, a familiar playfulness in her tone.

    Emma shrugged, her enthusiasm dimming slightly. “Not as much. Cullen’s always busy…” She hesitated, her hands slowing on the dough. “He hasn’t come by much to read to me either…”

    The heartbreak in her voice was subtle, but it hit Ariana like a blow. Emma adored Cullen—he was like a father to her in every way that mattered. For him to neglect that time with her was unheard of. Ariana turned toward Isabel, whose expression mirrored her own concern.

    “I’m sorry, cub,” Ariana said gently, reaching out to tuck a loose strand of Emma’s hair behind her ear. “Cullen’s been really busy since we got to Skyhold. He just wants to make sure you’re safe, especially after Haven. But how about I talk to him?”

    Emma’s eyes lit up, though there was a hint of hesitation in her voice. “But don’t tell him I told you. I don’t want him to think I’m trying to get him in trouble.”

    Ariana pressed a kiss to Emma’s forehead, her smile warm and reassuring. “You’ve got it, cub. He won’t hear it from me.”

    Standing, she turned back to Isabel, who motioned for her to sit. “Now about that lunch…” Ariana said, her tone lighter as she slid onto a stool.

    But as Isabel set a plate in front of her, the knot in Ariana’s chest only tightened. Whatever was going on with Cullen ran deeper than she’d thought. If he was neglecting his sleep, his own well-being, and even Emma, it wasn’t just work weighing on him. And as much as she wanted to confront him immediately, she knew she had to tread carefully. This wasn’t something she could rush.

    As she ate the bread Isabel had set in front of her, a thought began to form. She chewed slowly, her mind racing. She couldn’t force Cullen to rest, but maybe… maybe she could pull him away from his desk. Just for one evening. He wouldn’t stop working for his own sake, but he would for her.

    “Isabel,” she said suddenly, setting her bread down. “I need another favor.”

    Isabel raised an eyebrow, her lips quirking into a faint smirk. “What is it this time?”

    “Dinner,” Ariana said firmly. “I want to have dinner with him tonight. In the new quarters he prepared.”

    The smirk widened into a knowing smile. “You want me to make dinner for you both?”

    “Please,” Ariana said, her voice softening. “Make all of his favorites. You know them better than I do by now. And…” She hesitated, glancing at Emma before turning back to Isabel. “Make it special. I need him to step away from his work, just for one night.”

    Isabel’s expression softened, the teasing edge giving way to something warmer. “Of course, child. What time should I bring it up?”

    “Just after sundown,” Ariana said, her tone resolute. “Around seven.”

    “Consider it done,” Isabel replied with a small nod. “And Ariana… don’t push him too hard. If he’s anything like you, he’ll resist if you push.”

    Ariana chuckled softly, though the weight in her chest remained. “I know, Isabel. I’ll try.”

    As she finished her meal, she felt a flicker of hope. It wasn’t a solution, but it was a start. Tonight, she’d get him to stop, even if only for a little while.

    ~~~

    A knock at the door pulled Cullen from his thoughts. He set down his quill, sighing as he rubbed his temples. “Come in,” he called.

    The door creaked open, and a soldier stepped in, handing him a folded note before bowing and leaving without a word. Cullen’s brow furrowed as he unfolded the parchment, instantly recognizing Ariana’s handwriting:

    Dinner tonight? Our quarters?

    See you at seven.

    Love, Ari.

    Cullen couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips. She was pulling him away, giving him an excuse to stop working. He knew it. And as much as he wanted to protest, he couldn’t. Their time together wasn’t guaranteed. Soon enough, she’d be off again, chasing down leads, walking into danger, and risking everything. The thought of wasting these rare, quiet moments felt like a betrayal of the promise he’d made when he asked her to marry him.

    He glanced at the clock, making a note of the time, before returning to his work. But the words on the page in front of him blurred, his focus fractured. The letter lingered in his mind, its simplicity carrying an unspoken plea: Be with me.

    The scent of rosemary and freshly baked bread greeted Cullen as he climbed the stairs to their quarters. It mingled with the rich aroma of roasted meat and potato leek soup, a favorite from his childhood. He chuckled under his breath. Of course she did.

    When he reached the top, his steps faltered. Ariana stood near the balcony, bathed in the warm glow of twilight. She wore a house robe—soft, elegant, and somehow making her seem more regal than anything she could ever wear as the Inquisitor. She turned toward him, her smile radiant and unguarded, and it struck him as it always did: how impossibly lucky he was.

    Her smile deepened as their eyes met, and she crossed the room to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Hello, stranger,” she teased, her voice warm and lilting.

    Cullen slipped his arms around her waist, pulling her close. He said nothing, letting the moment stretch as he memorized the way she felt in his arms, the way she looked at him like he was her whole world. He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve her, but Maker help him, he wouldn’t squander it.

    “Are you hungry?” she asked softly, her lips brushing against his ear.

    He nodded, afraid to speak and shatter the spell of her presence. She took his hand, leading him to the table she’d set near the balcony. The arrangement was simple but thoughtful, candles flickering in the cool evening breeze as the view of the Frostbacks framed the scene.

    Dinner began with easy conversation—new reports, her meeting with Varric, musings about Corypheus. But as the meal went on and the sun dipped below the horizon, Ariana’s gaze shifted. She rested her chin on her hand, studying him in that quiet, disarming way she had, as though peeling back every layer of his defenses.

    “Cullen,” she began, her tone deceptively casual, “before I left… you mentioned there was something you wanted to tell me. Something you’d been meaning to talk about.”

    His heart sank. He’d hoped she’d forgotten. Or perhaps he’d hoped he could keep avoiding it. But Ariana never forgot. And she never let anything go. His smile faded as he stiffened in his seat, his hand tightening around his fork. “It’s nothing urgent,” he said quickly, waving it off. “We don’t need to—”

    “Cullen,” she interrupted, leaning back in her chair and folding her arms. Her gaze was steady, unyielding. “Don’t do that.”

    He sighed, pushing his chair back and rising to his feet. He crossed to the balcony, the evening breeze cooling the heat rising in his chest. He gripped the railing tightly, his mind racing. How could he explain this without sending her into a spiral of worry? How could he reassure her when he wasn’t sure he could reassure himself?

    Ariana followed, stepping onto the balcony with the quiet grace he loved. She stood beside him, her presence grounding him even as her proximity stirred his unease. “Cullen,” she said softly, her voice laced with worry. “Whatever it is, just tell me.”

    He hesitated, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and measured. “As leader of the Inquisition, you… you need to know the risks I’ve taken.”

    Her brow furrowed, and he could feel her eyes on him. “What risks?”

    Cullen took a deep breath, forcing himself to meet her gaze. “Lyrium grants templars their abilities, but it also controls us. Those who are cut off from it… they suffer. Some go mad. Others… die.”

    Her eyes widened slightly, and confusion flickered across her face. “I know this.”

    He nodded. “Then you know what I’m risking.” He paused, his jaw tightening. “I haven’t taken lyrium since I joined the Inquisition.”

    The silence that followed was deafening. Ariana’s hand came to her mouth as she stared at him, the implications sinking in. “Since Haven? Cullen, that was months ago. Why… why didn’t you tell me?”

    “I didn’t want to burden you,” he admitted, his voice cracking slightly. “After Kirkwall… after everything… I couldn’t let it control me any longer. This is my choice.”

    Her eyes shone with unshed tears as she stepped closer, gripping his arm. “And if it kills you? What then?”

    “It hasn’t yet,” he replied quietly, his gaze dropping. “And I’ve taken precautions. Cassandra knows. If I become unfit to lead—”

    “Cassandra?” Ariana’s voice broke, her frustration and hurt spilling over. “You told Cassandra, but not me?”

    Cullen’s chest tightened as he saw the pain in her eyes. “You have enough to worry about, Ari. The Inquisition—”

    “I don’t care about the Inquisition,” she interrupted, her voice fierce. She grabbed his hand, forcing him to look at her. “I care about you. You are my priority, Cullen, not this war.”

    Her words hit him like a hammer, shattering his resolve to shield her from this. He reached up, his hand covering hers as he closed his eyes. “I didn’t want you to feel this weight. I thought… I thought I was protecting you.”

    She shook her head, her voice softening but no less resolute. “We’re in this together. If you want me to take care of myself, to be honest with you, then you have to do the same. Don’t shut me out.”

    Cullen swallowed hard, guilt and love warring in his chest. “I’ll try,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

    Ariana cupped his face, her thumb brushing against his cheek. “Not good enough. Promise me.”

    “I promise,” he murmured, his voice steady this time.

    Ariana leaned her forehead against his, her tears finally spilling over. “We’ll get through this, Cullen. Together.”

    He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly as her strength seeped into him. “Together,” he echoed, his voice laced with a quiet determination. For the first time in weeks, he felt the weight on his shoulders lighten, knowing she was with him, every step of the way.

    ~~~

    The restlessness had become unbearable. Ariana lay on her side, her head sinking into the pillow as her thoughts refused to quiet. She had tried everything—counting her breaths, focusing on the steady rhythm of Cullen’s beside her—but nothing worked. His words from earlier echoed in her mind, their weight settling into her chest like an anchor. After Kirkwall… after everything… I couldn’t let it control me any longer.

    She turned onto her back, staring at the ceiling as the memory of his voice replayed again. The calm conviction in his tone was what unnerved her most. He had accepted this path—the risks, the suffering, the unknowns—but she couldn’t. Not yet. How could she? How could he carry all of this alone? The more she thought about it, the more she hated that he’d felt he had to.

    How do I help him? The question gnawed at her, fraying the edges of her composure. She’d heard whispers of lyrium withdrawal before—rumors exchanged by soldiers, fragments of stories shared by mages in hushed voices—but never anything concrete. What did it feel like? Was it a physical torment, a battle of the mind, or both? How bad was it?

    Her lack of understanding made her feel helpless, and Ariana hated feeling helpless.

    She shifted again, rolling onto her side to watch Cullen. He was asleep—something she had been desperate for him to do for weeks—but it was far from peaceful. The faint furrow of his brow, the occasional twitch of his fingers against the sheets, the tension that lingered even now… none of it escaped her notice. Even in sleep, he carried the weight of his struggle, and it broke her heart.

    Her hand hovered over his shoulder, caught in hesitation. Should she wake him? Would that be worse? She didn’t know, and that uncertainty only made the knot in her stomach tighten. At least he was resting, but she knew too well that sleep plagued by nightmares wasn’t restful. She had lived that reality herself, countless times.

    She sighed quietly, lowering her hand as she sat up in bed. Running her fingers through her disheveled hair, she tried to think of a solution. Think, Ariana. There had to be something she could do, someone she could turn to for guidance. Someone who understood what he was going through better than she did.

    Michael’s name crossed her mind first. He had spent his life in the Order, immersed in templar culture, and would undoubtedly know the answers she sought. But no—Michael had known Cullen too long. The second she began asking questions, he would go straight to him, and she didn’t want that. This wasn’t about doubting Cullen’s choice or his ability to lead. It was about supporting him without adding to his burden.

    Her thoughts spiraled for a while, frustration mounting until another name surfaced. Malcolm.

    Her breath caught, and hope flickered to life in her chest. Malcolm had been a templar once, just like Cullen. He had walked this path, survived the same torment Cullen was now enduring, and found a life beyond it. She had heard snippets of his story over the years—enough to know he understood what Cullen was going through in a way no one else could. And he was here, in Skyhold. She had seen him just the other day near the stables, helping with the supply inventory.

    He’ll understand. Malcolm wasn’t like Michael. He was discreet, practical. His loyalty was to her and her alone, he wouldn’t betray her confidence. He would give her the insight she needed without judgment or complication.

    Her resolve hardened. She would find Malcolm first thing in the morning. She would speak with him, learn everything she could, and figure out how best to help Cullen through this.

    For now, she forced herself to lie back down, though her heart still raced with worry. She glanced at Cullen again, watching the faint rise and fall of his chest. His presence beside her offered some comfort, but not enough to quiet the storm in her mind. She reached out, brushing her fingers lightly against his hand, as if grounding herself in the simple reminder that he was still here, still fighting.

    As the first hints of dawn began to creep through the window, Ariana stared up at the ceiling, her thoughts too loud to let her sleep. It wasn’t the comfort she had hoped for, but it was a plan. And that was something.

    ~~~

    At first light, Ariana was already dressed, her movements methodical despite the exhaustion from her sleepless night. She glanced over at Cullen, still asleep, his features softened by the early morning light filtering through the curtains. Her heart clenched as she watched him, knowing all too well that his rest wasn’t as peaceful as it appeared. The faint tension in his brow, the occasional twitch in his hand—it was clear his mind wasn’t at ease.

    She tore her gaze away, scribbling a quick note and leaving it on her pillow before slipping out of the room as quietly as possible. She had a mission this morning, one she hoped would give her the answers she so desperately needed.

    As she exited the main hall, the crisp air and muted hum of activity greeted her. Spotting Riley near the armory, Ariana quickened her pace.

    “Riley,” she called out, closing the gap between them. “Have you seen Malcolm this morning?”

    Riley turned, her expression curious. “Something wrong, Wolf?”

    Ariana shook her head quickly. “No, nothing like that. I just need to talk to him.”

    Riley’s eyes narrowed slightly, but she didn’t press further. “Last I saw, he was by the stables with Isabel.”

    “Thanks,” Ariana said, already moving.

    By the stables, she found Malcolm checking the saddles of a few horses, his steady hands inspecting every strap and buckle with practiced precision. His presence was grounding, a reminder of resilience and calm amidst chaos. Ariana hesitated for a moment, gathering her thoughts, before calling out.

    “Malcolm.”

    He turned at the sound of her voice, his sharp eyes softening when he saw her. “What’s on your mind, Wolf?”

    “Do you have a moment?” she asked, glancing around. “Somewhere private?”

    Malcolm’s brow furrowed slightly, curiosity flickering across his features, but he nodded without hesitation. “Lead the way.”

    Ariana guided him to a quiet corner near the outer ramparts, the cold stone walls providing some semblance of solitude. The morning air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of frost and woodsmoke. She stopped, turning to face him, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her bracer.

    “Malcolm… I need to ask you something,” she began, her voice quieter now. “It might be… uncomfortable. If it is, you don’t have to answer.”

    His expression softened as he leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “You’ve got my attention, Wolf.”

    Ariana took a steadying breath, her gaze briefly flicking to the Frostbacks in the distance before meeting his eyes again. “What’s it like… for a templar to stop taking lyrium?”

    Malcolm tilted his head, his usual stoicism giving way to a faint hint of understanding. “Well, I wasn’t expecting that,” he admitted, scratching his chin. “But I don’t mind telling you.”

    Her shoulders relaxed slightly, though the knot of tension in her chest remained.

    “It’s not an easy thing,” he began, his voice steady. “The withdrawal… it takes its toll. The first signs are small—fatigue, forgetfulness, cold that settles into your bones. But that’s just the beginning.”

    Ariana nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line.

    “Then come the headaches,” he continued, his tone matter-of-fact. “Splitting, unrelenting headaches that make it feel like your skull’s being crushed. And the dreams…” He paused, his gaze distant for a moment. “Strange dreams, vivid ones. Nightmares, if you’ve got demons in your past. They creep in, haunt you when you’re most vulnerable. Sometimes it feels easier to avoid sleep altogether, though that comes with its own price.”

    Her heart sank as his words painted a clearer picture. That’s why he’s not sleeping. The realization hit her like a blow. “That sounds… unbearable,” she said softly.

    “It can be,” Malcolm admitted. “The first month is uncomfortable, but manageable. It’s the next few months that test you. After that, things start to ease—if you can endure the worst of it.” His gaze sharpened slightly. “But you’re not asking this out of idle curiosity, are you?”

    Ariana hesitated, her eyes drifting back to the horizon. “No… I’m not.” She took a deep breath, steadying herself before continuing. “Cullen… he told me he stopped taking lyrium when he joined the Inquisition. It’s been months.”

    Malcolm’s brow furrowed. “Months, you say?”

    She nodded, her voice quieter now. “He’s not sleeping. I know he sleeps less when I’m not here, but now… even when I’m with him, he barely rests. He says he can endure it, but…” Her voice faltered for a moment. “I need to know how to help him if it becomes too much.”

    Malcolm studied her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. “If it’s been months, he’s through the worst of it. But if he’s not sleeping… the nightmares might be holding him back. That happens to those who’ve been through more than their share of darkness.”

    Ariana closed her eyes briefly, her mind flashing to the rumors she’d heard over the years. “Have you heard about what happened at Kinloch Hold during the Blight?”

    Malcolm’s eyes widened slightly. “Rumor was the tower fell to abominations. The stories said the entire place was overrun.”

    “It was,” Ariana said quietly. “And Cullen was there.”

    The weight of her words hung in the air, and Malcolm exhaled slowly, his expression grim. “Maker’s breath… that explains a lot.”

    “I don’t know the details,” she admitted, her voice tight. “He’s never spoken of it. But it haunts him. I see it in his eyes sometimes, and now, I think… I think it’s why he can’t sleep.”

    Malcolm nodded thoughtfully. “Cullen’s strong. Stubborn as a mountain, from what I’ve seen. But he’s carrying a heavy load. It helps to have something—or someone—to fight for. A focus. That can make all the difference.”

    “How do I help him?” she asked, her voice breaking slightly. “How do I make this easier for him?”

    Malcolm placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Just be there, Wolf. When it gets too much, remind him he doesn’t have to bear it alone. And make sure he takes care of himself—eats, rests, doesn’t push too hard. Exhaustion makes everything worse.”

    Her throat tightened, but she nodded. “Thank you, Malcolm.”

    “Anytime, Wolf,” he said with a small smile. “And if you ever need to talk—or need advice—you know where to find me.”

    Ariana offered a faint smile in return, though the weight of her concern lingered as she turned back toward the main hall. She felt a glimmer of relief, but the path ahead was still unclear. For now, she had a little more clarity, and that was enough to keep her moving forward.

    ~~~

    Cullen stirred at the sound of the door opening, his body still heavy with the remnants of sleep. He blinked slowly, adjusting to the dim light filtering into the room. The scent of Ariana’s cinnamon-laced hair lingered on the pillow beside him, grounding him in the moment. He shifted slightly, propping himself up on one elbow, and caught sight of her as she entered the room.

    His confusion was immediate. She’d left before dawn—he’d barely registered her departure, assuming she had been called away to deal with some matter for the Rangers. Now, she stood at the door, her expression unreadable but softened by a faint smile.

    “Where were you?” he asked, his voice gravelly from sleep.

    “Catching up with the Rangers,” she replied lightly, her tone almost too casual. “Nothing urgent.”

    Cullen frowned faintly, sitting up fully. Something about her demeanor unsettled him. She seemed… different. The weight from last night’s conversation wasn’t there, or at least it didn’t seem to be. Instead, she moved with an ease that made him wonder if he had imagined her distress entirely.

    Before he could ask more, she started to remove her bracers, setting them on the nearby table with a soft clink. His frown deepened as she unfastened her cloak, letting it fall to the chair, followed by her boots.

    “What are you doing?” he asked, his brow furrowing further. His mind was already beginning to shift toward the day ahead, the reports waiting for him, the preparations for their next campaign.

    She didn’t answer him. Instead, she slipped out of her tunic, revealing the thin shift beneath. His breath caught in his throat as she crossed the room and climbed onto the bed with deliberate grace, straddling him and settling herself on his lap. Her sudden closeness threw him off balance, her weight grounding him in place.

    “Ariana?” His hands instinctively moved to her hips, his confusion evident in his voice. “What’s going on?”

    “I’m going back to bed,” she said simply, her voice low and teasing, her hazel-green eyes glinting with mischief.

    Cullen blinked, caught entirely off guard. Her attitude was unlike anything he had expected. The worry, the intensity from last night—it was still there in her eyes, but now it was mingled with something else. Determination. Resolve. And something far more intoxicating.

    “Ari…” he started, his tone cautious. “What’s—”

    She silenced him with a kiss, her lips pressing against his with a firmness that stole his breath. His protest faltered, his mind scrambling to catch up with her actions. Her fingers tangled in his hair as she deepened the kiss, her body pressing against his.

    When she pulled back, his heart was pounding in his chest. “What are you doing?” he asked again, his voice lower now, edged with something he couldn’t quite name.

    She leaned in, her lips brushing the edge of his jaw, then trailing down his neck. “I told you,” she murmured against his skin, her breath warm and sending a shiver down his spine. “I’m going back to bed.”

    His grip on her hips tightened slightly as he tried to regain control of the situation, of himself. “Ariana, if something’s wrong—”

    She cut him off again, this time with a softer kiss, her fingers trailing along his bare chest beneath the blanket. “The only thing wrong,” she said between kisses, her voice husky, “is how much you’ve been neglecting yourself.”

    Cullen’s breath hitched as her words sank in, her touch making it harder to think clearly. “Ari, I—”

    “You’ve done enough worrying,” she interrupted, her lips brushing against his again. “Now it’s time to focus on something else. On me. On us.”

    Her words settled deep in his chest, disarming him entirely. He wanted to argue, to tell her he didn’t have time for this, that there was too much to do. But the way she looked at him—the fierce determination in her gaze, the heat in her touch—it stripped away every defense he tried to muster.

    Her lips found his again, and this time, he didn’t resist. The tension in his shoulders melted as his hands slid up her back, pulling her closer. Whatever concerns had plagued his mind moments ago were drowned out by the sensation of her body against his, the soft weight of her pressing him into the mattress.

    “I need you,” she whispered, her voice a mix of vulnerability and desire. “Let me take care of you.”

    His breath left him in a shaky exhale, her words cutting through every barrier he had built around himself. “Ari…” he began, his tone faltering.

    “Cullen,” she said, her hands cupping his face as she pulled back just enough to meet his gaze. “Please. Just let me. Don’t fight me on this.”

    He stared at her, his heart pounding, and for a moment, he couldn’t find the words. The weight of her emotions, the sheer intensity of her presence, left him speechless. Slowly, he nodded, his hands moving to her waist as he leaned up to capture her lips in a kiss that carried all the things he couldn’t say.

    Her response was immediate, her arms wrapping around his shoulders as she deepened the kiss. But something in him shifted—an edge of determination cutting through the haze of her touch. Without warning, his grip on her waist tightened, and in one swift motion, he flipped her onto her back, positioning himself above her.

    Ariana let out a soft gasp of surprise, her hair spilling across the pillow like a dark halo. But the look in her eyes—bright, intent, and brimming with desire—only encouraged him. His golden gaze held hers as he leaned down, his hands braced on either side of her, caging her in.

    “Is this what you want?” he asked, his voice low, roughened by emotion and barely restrained need.

    She smiled, a slow, deliberate curve of her lips that made his pulse quicken. Her fingers trailed up his arms, settling on his shoulders as she arched slightly beneath him. “Exactly what I want,” she murmured, her tone soft yet certain. “I want you.”

    Her words undid him. The hesitation, the doubt he had clung to—gone. All that remained was the feel of her beneath him, the way her body molded to his, and the trust in her eyes that made him want to give her everything.

    His lips found hers again, this time with more urgency, more intent. His hand slid along her side, memorizing the curve of her waist, the warmth of her skin through the thin fabric of her shift. She responded eagerly, her fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer as her legs shifted to wrap around him.

    Cullen broke the kiss only to press his lips to her jaw, her neck, her collarbone. Each touch drew a soft sigh or a breathless whisper from her, and he reveled in the way she came alive beneath him, her focus entirely on him, just as his was entirely on her.

    “You’re relentless,” he murmured against her skin, a smile tugging at his lips even as his voice carried the weight of his admiration.

    “You love it,” she teased back, her fingers tracing the muscles of his back, her touch equal parts soothing and electrifying.

    He pulled back slightly to look at her, his golden eyes darkened with an emotion so intense it made her breath catch. “I love you,” he said, the words simple but heavy with meaning.

    Ariana smiled again, softer this time, her hands sliding up to cradle his face. “Then show me,” she whispered, her gaze locking with his. “Show me you’re here. Show me you’re mine.”

    That was all it took. Whatever weight lingered in his heart, whatever fears or doubts clawed at the edges of his mind—they fell away. In this moment, with her, nothing else mattered.

    And as he kissed her again, slow and deliberate, he let himself believe that this—this connection, this love—was enough to keep him grounded, no matter what battles lay ahead.

  • Chapter 78 – A Fable for the Wolf

    28 Justinian 9:41

    Varric leaned back against the hearth in the main hall of Skyhold, the weight of a small box in his hands grounding him. His thumbs traced the edges of the smooth wood as he glanced toward the door. Morning light poured in, chasing away the lingering shadows of the night. It had been over two weeks since Ariana left for the Fallow Mire, and every day since had only deepened the knot of guilt in his chest.

    He sighed, his gaze dropping to the box. Inside was the bracelet she had given him years ago—a simple thing, but it meant everything. He’d worn it every day since she’d handed it to him in the dim light of The Hanged Man, her voice soft with a vulnerability that had caught him off guard. That constellation, Visus, had guided her, and now, it had become his reminder of her faith in him. And he’d let her down.

    “You alright there, Varric?” Isabel’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. She leaned against the doorway, her arms crossed, watching him with a mix of curiosity and concern.

    “Fine,” he said, though his tone lacked conviction. He pushed off the hearth, holding the box out to her. “I need you to do me a favor.”

    Isabel raised an eyebrow but took the box. “What’s this?”

    “For Ariana,” Varric said, running a hand through his hair. “When she gets back. It’s… something I should’ve done in person, but I’m not sure I’ll have the chance right away.”

    Isabel studied him for a moment before lifting the lid. Her gaze softened as she saw the bracelet nestled inside. “You’re giving this back?”

    “For now,” he said, his voice quiet but steady. “Until I can earn it back.”

    Isabel closed the box, holding it carefully as though it contained something fragile. “You know she’ll forgive you, right? She always does.”

    “Yeah,” Varric said, though his expression didn’t match the confidence in his words. “But it’s not about forgiveness, Blossom. Not this time. I need her to trust me again. And that’s gonna take more than words.”

    Isabel nodded slowly, her fingers brushing over the box. “You’re not wrong. But she’s not going to hate you forever, Varric. She needs you as much as you need her.”

    A faint, rueful smile tugged at his lips. “Here’s hoping you’re right. Just… make sure she gets it, will you?”

    “I will,” Isabel promised. She hesitated, then added, “She came back last night, by the way. Late. Probably still asleep.”

    Varric blinked, his surprise quickly giving way to a groan. “Of course she did. No one tells me these things.”

    “She’s probably exhausted,” Isabel said with a smirk. “But I’ll make sure this gets to her as soon as she’s up.”

    “Thanks, Blossom,” Varric said, his tone softening. As she walked away, he let out a long breath, his fingers twitching slightly as if he were still holding the box. He wasn’t sure if this gesture would be enough, but it was a start.

    And Maker, he hoped it would be enough.

    Varric sighed, watching Isabel disappear down the hall with the small box cradled carefully in her hands. He lingered for a moment longer before turning toward the opposite corridor, his boots echoing softly against the stone floor as he made his way to Hawke’s quarters. The plan, the apology, the story—it was all ready. Or at least he thought it was. But as much as he hated to admit it, he needed Hawke’s seal of approval before putting it into motion.

    He found her lounging in her chair near the hearth, a half-empty mug of ale in one hand and a book in the other. She looked up as he entered, her lips quirking into a smirk. “Let me guess—more edits?”

    “Don’t tempt me,” Varric said dryly, pulling up a chair opposite her. He reached into his satchel and pulled out the bound pages, setting them on the table between them. “This is it. The final draft. Tell me it’s ready, because if it’s not, I might just burn it and call it a day.”

    Hawke snorted, setting her mug down and picking up the manuscript. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic. You’ve been writing for years—you’re not about to let one story defeat you.”

    “Maybe not,” Varric muttered, leaning back and crossing his arms. “But this one’s… different.”

    Hawke’s teasing expression softened slightly as she flipped through the pages. She read in silence for several minutes, her brow furrowing in places, her lips twitching into a smile at others. When she finally set the manuscript down, she leaned back with a satisfied nod. “It’s good to go, Varric. Hits all the right notes—heartache, redemption, even a little humor. Ariana’s going to love it.”

    Varric let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “That’s what I was hoping you’d say.”

    “Have you talked to Maryden about the songs yet?” Hawke asked, reaching for her mug again.

    “The songs are written and ready,” Varric confirmed. “She’s been practicing all week. Trust me, it’ll all come together.”

    Hawke arched an eyebrow. “You sound almost optimistic. Should I be worried?”

    “Don’t get used to it,” Varric shot back, though his smirk quickly faded. “I just found out Ariana came back last night. Late. Isabel told me.”

    Hawke sat up straighter, her expression turning serious. “And you haven’t gone to see her yet?”

    “No,” Varric admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “Figured she’d be asleep. Besides, if there’s ever going to be a time to do this, it’s tonight. I need your help.”

    Hawke leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “What kind of help?”

    “Getting all the right people to the tavern and setting it up,” Varric said, his tone a little gruff as though he hated asking for assistance. “You’re better at the whole ‘herding cats’ thing than I am. And I need you to ask Cullen to bring her after sundown.”

    Hawke’s smirk returned, though it was gentler this time. “You really think Cullen’s going to say no to you?”

    “Not the point,” Varric replied with a wave of his hand. “She’ll listen to him, and he’ll listen to you. Besides, I’m guessing she hasn’t been back to the tavern since she left, and that’s where this whole thing is going down.”

    Hawke regarded him for a moment before standing and grabbing her coat. “Alright, I’ll take care of it. But Varric?”

    “Yeah?”

    “You’re doing the right thing,” she said, her voice soft but firm. “And it’s going to mean a lot to her. You know that, right?”

    Varric sighed, his gaze dropping to the manuscript on the table. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “I hope so.”

    Hawke gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder before heading out the door, leaving Varric alone with his thoughts. For a moment, he just sat there, staring at the bound pages that had taken weeks of work and sleepless nights. Then, with a shake of his head, he stood and slipped the manuscript back into his satchel.

    “Alright, pup,” he muttered under his breath. “Time to see if this old dwarf still has a little charm left.”

    ~~~

    Cullen sifted through the stack of reports on his desk, his brow furrowed as he made notes and issued orders to the soldiers standing at attention before him. His tone was quiet, his instructions curt but efficient. Even so, a noticeable stillness hung over him, a departure from his usual commanding presence.

    The sound of the door opening made him glance up, his expression softening slightly as Hawke strode in. She raised an eyebrow, leaning casually against the doorframe as the soldiers saluted and filed out.

    “You look like you haven’t slept, Commander,” she said lightly, though her tone carried a hint of curiosity.

    “I’ve had worse nights,” Cullen replied, setting down his quill. He leaned back in his chair, rolling his shoulders to ease the tension. “Ariana is upstairs.”

    Hawke’s eyebrows lifted slightly, though her grin was quick to follow. “Upstairs, huh? So that’s where she’s been hiding.”

    “She came in late last night,” Cullen explained, leaning back in his chair. “Rode through the gates alone and barely made it to the bed before passing out.”

    “And you’re not in bed with her?” Hawke teased.

    Cullen chuckled “I was for a while, but she needs rest. If I’m going to keep the Inquisition from demanding her attention, then I need to be here.

    Hawke’s smirk deepened as she motioned for him to follow her outside. “Come on, you could use some fresh air.”

    Reluctantly, Cullen rose, following her out onto the battlements. The crisp morning air was a sharp contrast to the warmth of his office, and he folded his arms against the chill. Hawke leaned on the stone wall, studying him for a moment.

    “I need a favor,” she said, her tone uncharacteristically serious.

    Cullen arched an eyebrow. “Should I be worried?”

    “Depends,” Hawke replied with a grin. “Varric has this whole elaborate plan to apologize to Ariana. He’s been working on it for weeks, and he wants her at the tavern after sundown.”

    Cullen’s expression darkened slightly, skepticism evident. “Elaborate plan?”

    “Songs, stories, the whole works,” Hawke said with a wave of her hand. “Look, I know it sounds ridiculous, but Varric’s been beating himself up about this. And you know as well as I do how much Ariana needs him.”

    Cullen sighed, his gaze drifting toward the mountains beyond Skyhold. Hawke wasn’t wrong—Ariana did need Varric, even if she wasn’t ready to admit it. Finally, he nodded. “Alright. I’ll bring her.”

    Hawke’s grin widened, and she clapped him on the shoulder. “Knew I could count on you, Commander. Just don’t tell her, alright? Let it be a surprise.”

    With that, she turned and headed down the stairs, leaving Cullen to his thoughts. He lingered for a moment, the weight of the conversation settling over him.

    Before he could return to his office, Isabel stepped in, a small box in her hands.

    “Is she still asleep?” she asked quietly.

    Cullen nodded. “She was exhausted when she got back last night. She woke up briefly around dawn but fell asleep again.

    “Can you give this to Ariana when she wakes up?” Isabel asked, as she held the box out to him, her voice hushed. “It’s from Varric.”

    Cullen’s brow furrowed as he took the box. He studied it briefly before glancing back at Isabel. “What is it?”

    She shrugged, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “Something she gave him a long time ago. He said… he feels like he needs to earn it back.”

    Cullen exhaled slowly, turning the box over in his hands. “He’s going through a lot of trouble for this.”

    “He should be,” Isabel replied, her tone soft but firm. “She’s worth it.”

    Cullen nodded, his grip tightening slightly on the box. “She is.”

    Isabel gave him a small, knowing smile before slipping out the door. Once alone, Cullen looked down at the box again. His lips quirked into a faint smile, and he shook his head slightly. He appreciated the effort Varric was making—it spoke volumes about how much the dwarf cared for Ariana.

    And truthfully, Cullen appreciated anyone who cared enough to go through this much trouble for her.

    ~~~

    The faint sound of the ladder creaking pulled Ariana from sleep. She stirred, her senses still caught between dreams and reality, as she blinked against the soft light filtering through the room. A familiar figure approached the bed, his steps quiet and measured.

    “Cullen?” Her voice was drowsy, barely above a whisper. She rubbed her eyes, pushing herself up slightly on her elbows. “What time is it?”

    “Almost midday,” he said softly, his golden eyes warm as he sat at the edge of the bed. She noticed the small box in his hands, tied with a neat ribbon and accompanied by a folded note.

    “What’s that?” she asked, her curiosity piqued as a faint smile graced her lips. “A gift for me?”

    Cullen hesitated, his lips twitching in a small smile. “Not from me. It’s from Varric.”

    At the mention of Varric, her heart gave a small, uncertain jolt. Sitting up fully, she reached for the box, glancing between it and Cullen. Carefully, she untied the ribbon and lifted the lid. The sight of the bracelet inside stopped her breath.

    It was the bracelet she had given Varric so many years ago—a simple piece of cloth and leather with a silver plate engraved with the Visus constellation. The memory of that moment in Kirkwall hit her with a sudden force, and her chest tightened painfully.

    Her hands trembled as she picked up the bracelet, her eyes filling with tears. She swallowed hard, unable to stop the wave of emotion crashing over her. “Why is he giving this back?” she whispered, her voice thick with unshed tears. “Does he not want it anymore?”

    Cullen’s expression shifted immediately, his brows furrowing with concern as he moved closer. “Ari,” he said gently, his hand reaching out to steady hers. “What’s wrong?”

    She shook her head, her voice cracking as she explained, “I gave this to him before I left Kirkwall the first time. It meant something to both of us. It’s the reason he gave me the necklace I wear. He said it was so our paths might cross again someday.” Her free hand instinctively reached up, brushing against the familiar pendant at her neck.

    Cullen frowned, his hand resting on her shoulder. “Maybe you should read the note,” he suggested softly, his voice calm but steady. “I think there’s more to this than you realize.”

    Ariana hesitated, her eyes dropping to the folded note she had set aside. With a shaky breath, she unfolded it, her vision blurring as she read the words written in Varric’s distinctive hand:

    Pup,

    I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel like I didn’t trust you. You have always been someone I’d follow without question, someone I believed in, no matter what. I know I hurt you, and for that, I’m more sorry than I can say.

    This bracelet… it means a lot to me. But right now, I feel like I need to earn it back. You deserve that much. I hope someday I’ll be able to wear it again, knowing I’ve earned your trust again, the way you’ve always had mine.

    Your old friend,
    – V

    By the time she finished reading, the tears streaming down her cheeks had become impossible to stop. Her fingers clutched the note tightly, her head dropping as her shoulders shook with silent sobs.

    “Ari,” Cullen murmured, his hand slipping around her back as he guided her into his arms. She didn’t resist, sinking into his embrace as the letter fell to her lap. He held her securely, his chin resting lightly atop her head. “It’s alright,” he whispered, his voice a steady balm against the storm of emotions threatening to overwhelm her. “Everything’s going to be alright.”

    “I didn’t mean…” she started, her voice trembling. “I didn’t mean to make him feel like this. I was hurt, but… I never wanted him to think he needed to give this back. Maker, Cullen, I’ve already forgiven him.”

    Cullen tightened his hold, letting her cry against him as he pressed a kiss to her hair. “He’ll see that,” he said quietly. “Varric knows you, Ari. And he’s doing this because he cares. Give him the chance to make it right.”

    Ariana nodded against his chest, though her tears didn’t stop. She was grateful for the steady rhythm of Cullen’s heart beneath her ear, the warmth of his arms anchoring her in the moment. Slowly, her breathing began to even out, the storm within her quieting.

    Cullen didn’t say anything else, letting the silence stretch between them as he held her. He could feel her calming, the tension in her frame gradually easing. When she finally looked up at him, her hazel-green eyes still glistening, there was a softness in her gaze that took his breath away.

    “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice hoarse but sincere.

    He smiled faintly, brushing a stray tear from her cheek. “Always,” he replied.

    Ariana’s hand moved to the bracelet still clutched in her other hand. She turned it over thoughtfully, her fingers tracing the familiar engraving. Despite everything, she couldn’t help but smile softly. Varric’s words, though painful, had reminded her of something important—how much he truly valued their bond.

    Her gaze drifted back to Cullen, and for a moment, she simply studied him, the warmth and steadiness in his golden eyes grounding her further. “I’m lucky to have you,” she said softly.

    Cullen’s smile widened just slightly, though the sincerity in his tone was unmistakable. “I’m the lucky one.”

    ~~~

    The sun dipped below the Frostbacks, bathing Skyhold in hues of amber and violet. Ariana sat curled up in one of the chairs in Cullen’s office, a book from his modest shelves open in her lap. The quiet crackle of the fire and the occasional rustle of papers as Cullen worked filled the space between them. She didn’t mind the silence. It was enough just to be in his company, her quiet haven tucked away from the rest of the world. She hadn’t foreseen how much of a retreat his office would become when she started cleaning it up before she left.

    Every so often, she glanced up to watch him, his brow furrowed in concentration as he reviewed reports and directed orders to messengers who came and went. He was always so focused, so steady. She found herself smiling faintly, though it faded quickly as her thoughts wandered back to Varric’s note, the bracelet, and the storm of emotions she was still sorting through.

    “Any thoughts on this?” Cullen’s voice broke her reverie as he held up a parchment for her to see.

    Ariana leaned forward, setting the book aside to scan the report. “Give it to Riley. Rangers can handle the village. If Leliana’s scouts are right about the bandits in the area, they’ll need the extra protection.”

    He nodded, scribbling down her suggestion before returning to his work. She leaned back in the chair, picking up the book again, but her attention was scattered. Her focus drifted between the warmth of the fire, the scratch of Cullen’s quill, and the steady comfort of simply being near him.

    After what felt like an eternity, Cullen finally pushed his chair back with a quiet sigh, standing and stretching his arms over his head. He turned toward her, a rare ease in his posture. “Care for a drink?”

    Ariana blinked, surprised. “Really? I thought you’d be buried in reports all night.”

    He gave a small shrug, the corners of his mouth lifting in a faint smile. “Would you rather keep me company up here while I find more reports to drown in?”

    She raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in her eye. “Since when do you suggest taking a break? Who are you, and what have you done with my Commander?”

    He chuckled, shaking his head. “I’ll admit it’s rare, but… tonight, I’d rather be with you.”

    Her smile softened, and she closed the book, setting it aside as she stood. “Well, if you’re done being responsible for the moment, I’m all yours, Commander.”

    ~~~

    As the sun dipped below the Frostbacks, bathing Skyhold in hues of amber and violet, Cullen approached Ariana with an almost uncharacteristic ease. He leaned casually against the doorway, the golden glow of the firelight catching in his eyes. “Care for a drink, Ari?”

    She glanced up from the book she had been half-heartedly reading, smiling faintly. “Now? I thought you were buried under reports.”

    “I was,” he replied, stepping further into the room. “But it’s been a long day. A drink might do us both some good.”

    Ariana didn’t question it. She closed the book, setting it aside, and stood. “Lead the way.”

    The walk to the tavern felt unusually quiet. The air was crisp, carrying the faint hum of distant conversation, but as they approached the doors of The Herald’s Rest, she noticed something odd. The usual din of merriment was absent. Instead, the tavern was subdued, the atmosphere charged with an air of anticipation.

    When they stepped inside, she paused, her gaze sweeping over the room. It was almost empty, save for familiar faces scattered throughout. Riley, Valentina, Linnea, Lamberto, Hawke, Dorian, Cassandra, Isabel, Michael, Leliana, Josephine, Iron Bull, Cole, Varric, and even Maryden the bard—all of them were here, their eyes gleaming with mischief and warmth.

    Before she could ask what was going on, Maryden’s lute chimed a light, whimsical melody, and Varric stepped forward with his arms outstretched. “Well, look who decided to grace us with her presence!” His grin was wide, his tone exaggeratedly theatrical. “Ladies and gentlemen, the guest of honor has arrived! I present to you, your White Wolf! Your Inquisitor!”

    Ariana blinked, her brow furrowing in confusion as Cullen guided her to a table near the hearth. Cabot appeared moments later with a bottle of wine, pouring them both a glass before disappearing as swiftly as he came.

    “Alright, what’s going on?” Ariana asked, glancing at Cullen, though she couldn’t help the faint smile tugging at her lips.

    “You’ll see,” he replied, his expression soft and knowing as he gestured to the hearth.

    The tavern buzzed with quiet anticipation as Varric stood near the hearth, his usual bravado tempered with a rare seriousness. Maryden adjusted the strings of her lute, giving Varric a small nod as if to say, “You’re ready.” He cleared his throat, his gaze sweeping over the gathered crowd, lingering briefly on Ariana before he began.

    “Tonight,” Varric began, his voice carrying the weight of nostalgia and humor, “we gather to tell a tale. A tale of hardship, heroism, friendship… and mistakes.” He paused briefly, tilting his head. “And no, I’m not talking about my first draft of Hard in Hightown. That disaster is a story for another day.”

    Laughter rippled through the room, and Ariana couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking her head as she took a sip of wine.

    “It’s a story about two unlikely allies,” Varric continued, his tone softening, “and how even the cleverest of us sometimes lose our way.”

    Ariana tilted her head slightly, curiosity sparking in her tired eyes. Cullen placed a hand on hers, his silent reassurance grounding her as the room grew still, everyone waiting for Varric’s words.

    “Once upon a time,” Varric began, pacing in front of the fire, “there was a Wolf. She was strong, fierce, and independent—everything you’d expect from a creature of her kind. But even wolves can be brought low. One day, while roaming the wilderness, she was caught in a hunter’s trap.”

    Maryden’s lute plucked a low, somber tune, the melody weaving through the room and setting the mood.

    “The Wolf was injured, bleeding, and far from her pack. She might have died there if it weren’t for the Fox. Now, the Fox was a clever creature—smart enough to stay out of traps and quick enough to outrun most threats. But what the Fox was best at… was seeing the value in others.”

    There was a ripple of laughter at that line, and Varric grinned, his tone warming as he continued. “The Fox found the Wolf and, instead of leaving her to her fate, freed her. He nursed her wounds, fed her, and when she was strong enough, he sent her on her way. The Wolf, ever grateful, promised the Fox they’d meet again.”

    Ariana’s gaze dropped to the table for a moment, her hand brushing over the silver pendant she wore—a quiet, almost unconscious gesture. Cullen squeezed her hand gently, drawing her attention back to Varric.

    “Years passed,” Varric went on, his voice taking on a more somber tone. “The Wolf roamed far and wide, carving her path through the wilderness. But one day, news reached her ears—a fire had swept through the forest where the Fox made his home. Concerned for her old friend, the Wolf returned to find the land scorched, the air heavy with ash, and the Fox… not quite himself.”

    Maryden’s melody grew heavier, the notes echoing a deep sadness that filled the room.

    “When the Wolf asked what had happened, the Fox shrugged and said, ‘It just… happened. Fires like this, they’re part of nature, right?’ But the Wolf, for all her strength, had always been good at reading others. She saw the way the Fox avoided her gaze, the way his clever tongue seemed to trip over itself. She knew there was more to the story.”

    Varric paused, letting the weight of the moment settle over the room. Ariana’s chest tightened, her emotions stirring as the parallels between the story and her own life became clearer.

    “The truth,” Varric said softly, “was that the Fox had seen who set the fire. They’d even threatened to harm him if he ever spoke the truth. The Fox, for all his cleverness, chose silence—not out of malice, but out of fear. He wanted to protect himself… and maybe, just maybe, he wanted to protect the Wolf, too. But his silence came at a cost.”

    Maryden’s lute shifted into a mournful song, her voice joining in with soft, haunting lyrics about lost trust and the weight of secrets. The room seemed to hold its collective breath, the story pulling at their hearts.

    “But here’s the thing about wolves,” Varric said, his voice lifting slightly, his usual charm peeking through. “They’re stubborn. And this Wolf, she didn’t give up on the Fox. She stayed, helped rebuild the forest, and reminded him that they were stronger together. Over time, the Fox found his courage again. He told the truth, made amends, and the Wolf forgave him—not because he was perfect, but because he was her friend. Her family.”

    Ariana couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. They spilled over, though a small, watery laugh escaped her as Varric added, “And let’s face it, who wouldn’t forgive someone as charming as a Fox?”

    As the tavern erupted in laughter and cheers, Varric lingered near the hearth, his gaze following Ariana. She stood amidst the crowd, her cheeks still damp with tears but glowing with the warmth of the moment.

    When their eyes met, she tilted her head, a subtle invitation. Varric gestured toward the door, and Ariana followed without hesitation, leaving the noise and celebration behind.

    Outside, the air was cool, carrying the faint scent of woodsmoke and pine. The quiet was almost startling after the tavern’s lively din. Ariana folded her arms, glancing up at the starry sky. Varric joined her, leaning casually against the stone wall, though his posture betrayed a flicker of unease.

    “Pup, I—” Varric began, but again, Ariana didn’t let him finish.

    She turned to him, her voice soft but steady. “You didn’t have to do all this, you know.”

    Varric chuckled, though it lacked his usual confidence. “Yeah, well, I’m not great at the whole heartfelt apology thing. Figured I’d lean on my strengths—telling stories and making a spectacle of myself.”

    Ariana laughed quietly, shaking her head. “You really are something else.” Her fingers brushed over the bracelet on her wrist, her gaze dropping. “When I saw this… I thought you didn’t want it anymore. I thought you—” She stopped, swallowing hard.

    “Pup, come on,” Varric said, his voice low and serious now. “I’ve never stopped wearing it. Not once. And yeah, maybe I messed up. I lied to you. But it was never because I didn’t trust you. It was because… I didn’t want to risk losing you.”

    Her eyes shimmered as she looked up at him, the weight of his words sinking in. “You won’t lose me, Varric. Ever. But I need you to know… I had already forgiven you. I just—” She hesitated, then added with a faint smile, “I just hadn’t had the chance to tell you yet. Got in a little late last night, and slept most of the day.”

    Varric blinked, his mouth opening slightly before he closed it again. Then, with exaggerated disbelief, he said, “Wait… you’re telling me I didn’t need to do all this?” He gestured toward the tavern, his voice pitched higher in mock outrage. “The story, the songs, the whole damn spectacle?”

    Ariana shrugged, her lips quirking into a playful smirk. “Well, you didn’t ask. But hey, it’s not every day I get to watch you make a fool of yourself. I wasn’t about to stop you.”

    Varric placed a hand over his heart, shaking his head with exaggerated solemnity. “You wound me, Pup. Truly. Here I thought I was pulling out all the stops to make amends, and you were already over it.”

    Her laugh was light, genuine, and tinged with affection. “That’s what you get for assuming.”

    He chuckled, the tension between them easing as a familiar warmth settled into his expression. “Alright, fine. But don’t get used to it. Big, grand apologies are a one-time thing. Next time, you’re getting a card and maybe a stiff drink.”

    Ariana grinned, wiping the lingering tears from her cheeks. “Noted. But for what it’s worth, I wouldn’t trade this for anything.”

    Varric gave her a look, his sharp wit softening into something closer to pride. “Well, it’s like I said—family’s complicated. And you, Pup, are stuck with me.”

    She reached for his wrist, carefully fastening the bracelet back into its place. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

    Varric winked, stepping back toward the tavern. “Come on, Pup. Let’s get back in there before someone drinks all the good wine.”

    She lingered for just a moment, watching as he disappeared through the door. Her hand brushed over the silver pendant at her neck, her heart lighter than it had been in weeks. Then she followed, ready to rejoin the warmth and camaraderie waiting inside.

  • Chapter 77 – A Shared Burden

    11 – 27 Justinian 9:41

    The early morning mist of the Frostback Mountains clung to the air as Ariana rode alongside her companions. The rhythmic clop of hooves and the occasional call of birds filled the silence, peaceful enough to belie the storm of thoughts swirling in her mind. The crisp air bit at her skin, the chill seeping past her cloak as her gaze wandered over the snow-dusted peaks.

    Cassandra rode ahead, her posture stiff and unyielding, while Dorian and Iron Bull flanked Ariana, their banter filling the space between moments of quiet. But no amount of conversation could distract Ariana from the heavy knot twisting in her chest.

    “Now that you’ve acquired this magnificent fortress,” Dorian mused, his tone light and theatrical as always, “I’m thinking… a Skyhold wedding. Far more extravagant than Denerim, don’t you agree? Oh, the possibilities. Flower garlands draped from the battlements, a ceremonial sword dance—”

    Ariana groaned, though the faint tug of a smile softened her expression. “What happened to Denerim Palace?”

    “Darling,” Dorian said with mock exasperation, “why settle for a palace when you have a fortress carved into the side of a mountain? Grand halls, breathtaking views, the kind of acoustics that make bards weep. I’m envisioning silks in deep green and gold to match your eyes, and Cullen, of course, in ceremonial armor polished to an impossible gleam.”

    “Dorian,” Ariana interrupted, smirking, “if you start designing table settings, I’ll send you back to Minrathous.”

    “Please, as if I’d settle for anything less than Orlesian crystal,” he quipped, undeterred. “And let’s not forget the guest list. Champion of Kirkwall must have a front-row seat, and Varric will demand to give a toast. Perhaps the Hero of Ferelden can be persuaded to grace us with their presence. Oh, and we simply must have a dragon or two. For flair.”

    She couldn’t help the soft laugh that escaped her. “Maker’s breath, why do I let you do this to me?”

    “Because I’m delightful,” Dorian replied smoothly, his grin widening. But then his gaze lingered on her, the teasing edge fading just slightly. “You’re awfully quiet today, darling. Something on your mind?”

    Ariana hesitated, her fingers tightening on the reins. She glanced at the ground, the hoofbeats of her horse punctuating her pause. “Just… Varric,” she said finally, her voice quieter than usual.

    Dorian’s eyebrows lifted, his expression softening with understanding. “Ah, yes. The infamous quarreling family dynamic. Well, take it from me—every family has its rough patches. The key is to balance shouting matches with a healthy dose of wine. Or cake.”

    Her lips twitched upward, though the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “You’ve clearly got it all figured out.”

    “Of course I do,” he replied with mock sincerity, gesturing grandly. “And when we get back, we’ll stage an elaborate reconciliation. You and Varric can bond over fine whiskey, and he can read you that dreadful draft he’s been working on.”

    This time, the smile that broke through was genuine, even if it was fleeting. “Thanks, Dorian.”

    “Anytime,” he said, giving her an approving nod. “Now, back to the important matter of cake…”

    The day stretched long, the sun dipping behind the peaks by the time they made camp. Cassandra barely said a word as she helped set up tents before retreating to her own, choosing a spot slightly away from the others. Ariana watched her go, the tension in her shoulders as clear as the stars beginning to peek through the darkening sky. She’d seen that look before—the weight of guilt and self-recrimination that Cassandra carried far too easily.

    Dorian wandered off shortly after, claiming he needed to “commune with the stars.” Which left Ariana sitting by the fire, the warmth flickering against her skin as she stared into the flames. She poked absently at the logs with a stick, her thoughts drifting back to Skyhold. To Varric, to Cullen, to the laughter in the tavern last night.

    And then, of course, to Cullen.

    The ghost of his touch lingered on her skin, and for a moment, the ache in her chest softened. She could still feel the heat of his breath against her neck, the way his hands had roamed over her body with a reverence that made her feel both untouchable and completely undone. It had been a perfect reprieve—one she hadn’t known she needed until it had taken her breath away.

    But the memory of his amber eyes watching her as she left Skyhold that morning brought the ache back tenfold. She hated leaving him like that, knowing he’d spend the next two weeks worrying, unable to follow. And Varric… The silence between them felt heavier than ever now. It wasn’t anger anymore. It was something closer to regret.

    “You’re brooding, Boss,” came a familiar voice, breaking her reverie.

    Ariana glanced up to see Iron Bull plop onto a log across from her, his massive frame stretching out comfortably. He grinned at her, his sharp teeth catching the firelight. “So, I gotta ask—did I ever stand a chance?”

    Her brow furrowed. “What?”

    “You know,” he said, gesturing vaguely with one hand. “You and me. Great sex. No strings. That kind of thing.”

    Ariana burst out laughing, the sound cutting through the tension like a blade. “Not really.”

    Bull mock-sighed, leaning forward. “Figures. You and the Commander, huh?”

    She smirked. “You sound disappointed.”

    “Disappointed? Nah. Just curious,” he said, grinning wider. “How long’s that been going on?”

    She tilted her head, considering the question. “We’ve known each other since just before the Blight. But we’ve only been… involved since 9:33…”

    Bull let out a low whistle. “Oh, so only eight years, huh? Real casual.”

    Ariana chuckled softly, her gaze dropping to the fire. “It wasn’t all eight years. We didn’t see each other for almost four of them.”

    “Why’s that?” he asked, his tone still light but laced with curiosity.

    Her fingers tightened around the stick she held, her eyes fixed on the dancing flames. “Opposite sides of a war, I sided with the mages…” she said quietly.

    Bull’s grin faded, his expression softening as he nodded. “Ah. That explains a lot.” He leaned back, crossing his arms. “Well, looks like it worked out in the end.”

    “It did,” she said, though her voice was quieter now.

    For a moment, the silence between them stretched, the crackle of the fire filling the space. But then Bull’s grin returned, and he leaned forward with a mischievous glint in his eye. “But hey, if it ever doesn’t work out, or if he doesn’t keep you satisfied…”

    Ariana raised an eyebrow, her smirk returning. “Oh, I’m definitely satisfied.”

    Bull froze for half a beat, then barked out a laugh, his grin turning wicked. “Now that’s a statement. The Commander’s got skills, huh?”

    She shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “I’m not one to kiss and tell.”

    “Please. You’re absolutely the type to kiss and tell,” Bull countered, pointing a finger at her. “So, come on. On a scale from one to ‘stamina of a Qunari,’ how’s the man holding up?”

    Ariana rolled her eyes, though her smile lingered. “Let’s just say the sun was rising by the time we got any sleep.”

    Bull blinked, his grin widening as a deep laugh rumbled from his chest. “Now that’s impressive. Didn’t think he had it in him.”

    “Don’t underestimate him, Bull,” she said, her smirk turning sly. “He’s full of surprises.”

    “I’ll say,” Bull replied, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Man deserves a medal—and probably a nap.”

    She laughed softly, the tension in her chest easing slightly. “I’ll be sure to pass that along.”

    “Do that. And hey, offer’s still open if he ever slips up.”

    Ariana shook her head, waving him off. “Goodnight, Bull.”

    He winked, rising to his feet. “Goodnight, Boss.”

    As he wandered off to his tent, Ariana leaned back, the firelight flickering against her features. The banter had helped, easing the weight she carried just enough. But as she stared into the flames, her thoughts turned back to Skyhold, to Varric, and the laughter they hadn’t shared in far too long.

    She sighed, tucking her knees to her chest. “I need to fix this,” she whispered to herself, the words swallowed by the crackling fire.

    ~~~

    Cullen stood at the head of the war room table, the weight of leadership pressing heavily on his shoulders as he sifted through the latest reports. Leliana stood to his left, her sharp eyes scanning a dispatch as Josephine read a list of visiting nobles aloud. The tension in the room was palpable, the constant undercurrent of Skyhold’s responsibilities never truly abating.

    A sharp knock at the door broke the rhythm, and a scout entered, holding a folded parchment.

    “Message for you, Commander,” the scout said, stepping forward.

    Cullen turned toward the scout, his brow furrowing at the unexpected interruption. He accepted the parchment, his eyes catching on the seal—it was hastily folded, sealed differently than a typical scout report. Turning it over, his breath caught. His name was written in a familiar hand: Ariana’s.

    His chest tightened, a mix of relief and worry flooding him. Ariana had never sent him a personal message while away from Skyhold. Why now? Was something wrong?

    “It’s from the Inquisitor,” the scout added, bowing slightly before exiting the room.

    Josephine and Leliana exchanged glances before looking at Cullen. Leliana spoke first, her tone laced with curiosity. “The Inquisitor? Is something amiss?”

    “I… don’t know,” Cullen admitted, his voice quieter than usual as he broke the seal and unfolded the parchment. Ariana’s words immediately drew him in.

    Cullen,

    Stop worrying. I know you are. I’m safe, uninjured. Well, as much as anyone can be in these conditions. Though, I’d appreciate it if you could ask Leliana to have her scouts be a bit more thorough with their reports next time. “Wants to meet with the Herald” and “Wants to duel the Herald” are not the same thing. A little warning would’ve been nice before someone else tried to kill me.

    On that note, you’ll be pleased to know that Bull earned his pay. He took a hit meant for me—from the Hand of Korth himself. I owe him several drinks and maybe a healer. This is exactly why luck is not a strategy. “Meet” and “duel” have very different implications.

    Did you know there was a plague here sometime in the not so distant past? Judging by the state of things, no one survived. It’s crawling with undead—corpses everywhere. Maker, Cullen, it’s… horrific. Do we know how long ago it happened? Someone should burn the bodies. They deserve that much, at least.

    Oh, and Dorian’s decided Skyhold is the ideal wedding venue. He’s already envisioning flower garlands on the battlements and a grand ceremonial sword dance. Personally, I think the manor would be quieter—and safer. Not that you’ve seen it yet. Can we even have a simple wedding, or is that impossible now? Is it too late for us to keep it small?

    I’ll be stopping in the Hinterlands on my way back. Just a few things to follow up on. Don’t worry so much. I’ll see you soon.

    Love,

    —Ari

    P.S. I recruited an Avvar who was looking for a greater purpose. The Sky Watcher. He might arrive in Skyhold before I do.

    Cullen’s eyes lingered on her signature, his grip on the parchment tightening. Relief washed over him—she was safe. But it was quickly followed by frustration. Duel? Undead? Ariana had been sent into a situation far worse than they’d been led to believe. And she’d written to him not to report, but to reassure him, to ease the worry she knew he carried.

    Her words, as casual as they seemed on the surface, carried a subtle undercurrent of exhaustion. Cullen could feel it in the way she described the Fallow Mire—the horror, the weariness, the lingering sense of helplessness about the lives lost to the plague. She was carrying too much, yet still thinking about him, trying to make him smile with mentions of Dorian’s wedding plans and her teasing remarks.

    “The Sky Watcher…” Cullen murmured, his brow furrowing as he reread the letter. Who or what had she recruited this time?

    Josephine’s voice broke his reverie. “Commander, is everything alright?”

    Cullen folded the letter carefully, tucking it into his breastplate. He exhaled, steadying himself. “No,” he said, his tone sharp. “Everything is not alright.”

    Josephine and Leliana exchanged glances again, startled by the sudden edge in his voice.

    “How is it,” Cullen continued, his gaze locking onto Leliana, “that we reported the Avvar wanted to meet with the Herald, when in reality, they wanted to duel her? That is not the same thing.”

    Leliana’s eyes narrowed slightly, her expression guarded but attentive. “I… will have to look into that,” she said, her tone even.

    “Yes, please do,” Cullen said, his voice rising slightly. “Next time we send her into a situation blind, we might not be so lucky. The scouts’ failure to provide accurate information nearly got her killed.” He paced to the edge of the table, running a hand through his hair as his frustration boiled over. “She’s out there dealing with a plague, undead, and Maker knows what else, and she had no warning. If not for Bull, she could’ve been seriously hurt—or worse.”

    “Cullen,” Josephine began gently, her tone meant to diffuse the tension, “I’m certain Leliana will ensure this doesn’t happen again. Perhaps—”

    “I will address it,” Leliana interrupted firmly, her tone brooking no argument. “You have my word, Commander.”

    Cullen nodded, though his jaw remained tight. He wasn’t angry at Leliana, not truly, but the thought of Ariana walking into danger unprepared set his blood boiling. He couldn’t be out there to protect her, and the knowledge gnawed at him.

    After a moment, he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Thank you,” he said, his voice quieter now. “I trust you’ll handle it.”

    Leliana inclined her head. “Of course.”

    As the meeting resumed, Cullen’s mind kept drifting back to Ariana’s letter. The humor, the exhaustion, the quiet way she reached out to him—not as her Commander, but as the man who loved her. It wasn’t just her words that stayed with him but the unspoken emotions behind them. She missed him. She was thinking of him, even in the chaos of the Mire.

    And Maker help him, he missed her too.

    He allowed himself a small smile. At least she’s safe. And at least I know Bull is doing exactly what he’s paid to do. Still, his hands itched to be there, to fight alongside her, to protect her from everything she faced.

    For now, all he could do was wait. But the thought of seeing her again—of holding her, of hearing her voice—was enough to keep him grounded. For now.

    ~~~

    As the campfire crackled softly, casting flickering shadows across the clearing, Cassandra approached Ariana with a quiet determination. She settled down beside her, her plate balanced carefully in one hand. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the silence filled only by the faint rustling of the wind through the trees and the distant murmurs of the others in camp.

    “I need to say something,” Cassandra began, breaking the quiet.

    Ariana glanced at her, already sensing where this was going. “Cassandra, you don’t—”

    “I do,” Cassandra interrupted, her tone firm. “I owe you an apology. And I need you to hear it.”

    Ariana sighed but gave a small nod, her expression softening. She set her plate down, bracing herself for what was to come.

    “When I said that Hawke might have saved the Divine when you couldn’t…” Cassandra hesitated, her voice catching slightly. “It was unfair. Cruel, even. I was wrong to say it.”

    “Cassandra—” Ariana tried again, but Cassandra held up a hand.

    “Let me finish,” she insisted. “I’ve spent a great deal of time thinking about that day. About what happened at the Temple. And I’ve realized something… If you couldn’t save the Divine, no one could have. You were there. You were in the room with her. And that dark figure—Corypheus—he…” Her voice trailed off, but her meaning was clear. She met Ariana’s gaze, her eyes steady despite the weight of her words. “If he was the one who struck her down, then there is no shame in what happened. Only tragedy.”

    Ariana looked away, swallowing hard against the lump that had risen in her throat. “You’re flattering me again,” she said lightly, forcing a small smile in an attempt to ease the tension.

    Cassandra groaned, a faint but genuine sound of frustration. “Maker, why must you do that?”

    “Deflection is an art form,” Ariana replied, her smile growing a little more genuine. “And I’ve had plenty of practice.”

    Cassandra shook her head, but her expression softened. “I’ve come to admire you, you know. Your strength, your decisiveness. The way you face things without hesitation. I… wish I could be more like that.”

    Ariana turned to her, surprised by the admission. “Cassandra…”

    “No, let me finish,” Cassandra said again, softer this time. “I’ve spent my life serving what I believed to be a righteous cause. But in the wake of the Conclave, I was lost. Without you, I might still be lost.”

    Ariana regarded her quietly for a moment before speaking. “Without you, there would be no Inquisition.” Her voice was steady, filled with conviction. “Without your determination, your belief that we could make a difference, none of this would have been possible.”

    Cassandra tilted her head slightly, confused. “I don’t understand.”

    “I admired you from the moment you slammed that Writ from the Divine in front of Chancellor Roderick and declared the Inquisition reborn,” Ariana explained. “In the darkness of those first days after the Conclave, you were a light. You showed me—and everyone else—that we could do something. That we didn’t have to just sit back and let the world fall apart.”

    Cassandra’s gaze dropped, her expression softening further. “I… never realized.”

    Ariana reached out, placing a hand on her arm. “You’re an incredible leader, Cassandra. And whether you believe it or not, you’ve inspired so many of us, myself included.”

    For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then, Cassandra gave a small, reluctant smile. “You have a way with words, Inquisitor.”

    Ariana chuckled. “It’s a gift.”

    Cassandra sighed, shaking her head, but the faint smile remained. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “Truly.”

    The quiet moment between them stretched on, the crackling fire filling the space with its soft, rhythmic whispers. Cassandra leaned back slightly, her posture relaxing for perhaps the first time all day. Ariana thought of how rare it was to see the Seeker allow herself even this much ease.

    Before either could speak again, the sound of hurried footsteps broke through the stillness. Both women turned as a messenger approached, his breath visible in the cool night air. He stopped just short of the fire, offering a hasty salute.

    “Inquisitor,” he said, his tone respectful but urgent. “A message, from Commander Cullen.”

    Ariana blinked, caught off guard. “From Cullen?”

    The messenger nodded, reaching into his satchel and pulling out a carefully sealed letter. Ariana’s name was written in his unmistakable handwriting. Her breath caught slightly as she took it from him, the weight of the parchment feeling strangely significant in her hands.

    “Thank you,” she said quietly, and the messenger nodded before retreating back into the shadows.

    Cassandra watched her for a moment, curiosity flickering across her features. “Are you going to read it?”

    Ariana hesitated, her thumb running over the edge of the seal. “I—yes. I just didn’t expect…” She trailed off, shaking her head with a faint smile. “It’s been years since we exchanged letters.”

    Cassandra’s brow furrowed slightly, but she said nothing, sensing that this moment was personal. She stood, brushing off her hands. “I’ll leave you to it,” she said simply, retreating toward her tent without another word.

    Once she was alone, Ariana exhaled slowly, breaking the seal and unfolding the parchment. The sight of Cullen’s handwriting, neat but with a certain hurried precision, brought a wave of nostalgia that she hadn’t expected. She began to read:

    Ariana,

    Do you truly expect me not to worry? After Haven, after everything? You write to tell me you’re safe and then casually mention a duel, a plague, undead, and Bull taking a hit meant for you. How exactly is that supposed to ease my mind?

    I’ve already spoken with Leliana. This mistake with the scouts won’t happen again, I promise you that. I hate to think of you walking into something like that unprepared again. And while I trust you more than anyone to handle yourself, I… I wish you didn’t have to face these dangers at all.

    I wasn’t aware of the plague. I’ve already ordered a team to head to the Fallow Mire. They’ll see to the bodies and ensure the dead are finally given some peace. I wish we could have done something sooner, but we’ll at least make this right now. If there are survivors, we will find them.

    As for Dorian… I’m not entirely against the idea of Skyhold. It would be safer, and I’d like to imagine you wouldn’t feel the need to carry daggers under your dress if we held it here. But if you’re asking me what I want, Ari… I don’t care. Skyhold, the manor, the middle of the Frostbacks—it doesn’t matter, as long as you’re happy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.

    I’ll admit, though, I’d like to see the manor one day. You’ve talked about it so much—I can tell it’s special to you. Maybe that’s where we’ll finally go, once the world stops falling apart.

    I hate knowing you’re heading straight from the Mire to the Hinterlands. I know you’re only doing what you feel you have to, but sometimes I wish you’d just let someone else handle it. I know how capable you are, but Ari… even you can’t carry all of this alone.

    Please, stay safe. And come back to me soon.

    Always,

    Cullen

    P.S. The Sky Watcher… should I even ask?

    Ariana stared at Cullen’s letter, the words blurring slightly as her eyes lingered on the line she’d just read:

    “Maybe that’s where we’ll finally go, once the world stops falling apart.”

    She felt the breath leave her lungs in a quiet, uneven exhale. For a long moment, she didn’t move, her fingers brushing lightly over the parchment as though touching the words might somehow make them more real. The rest of the world fell away—the crackling fire, the distant rustling of leaves, the low murmur of conversation in the camp. It was just her and the letter.

    She pressed the letter to her chest, closing her eyes as the words settled into her heart. It wasn’t a promise, not exactly, but it was something. It was enough.

    For the first time in a long while, she allowed herself to believe that the life she had dreamed of once might not be so distant, so unattainable. Cullen wasn’t just a part of her past or her present—he was her future. And the idea that he might already be imagining that future too was more comforting than she had expected.

    As the warmth of his words filled her, another thought intruded, bittersweet but persistent: What would have happened if I’d told him sooner? Would they have spent all those years apart, lost on opposite sides of a war? Would the hurt and regret have been avoided? Or was this the way it was always meant to happen—two lives finally colliding when they were ready, when the timing was right?

    Ariana sighed softly, lowering the letter and opening her eyes to the flickering firelight. She let her fingers trace the words one last time before folding the parchment carefully and tucking it into her coat, close to her heart.

    For now, she couldn’t afford to dwell on what-ifs. But the thought of that life, of a future with Cullen in the manor, wasn’t just a fantasy anymore. It was something real, something worth holding onto.

    And as she sat by the fire, the faintest of smiles curved her lips. The weight on her shoulders felt just a little lighter, the road ahead just a little less daunting. Whatever battles lay ahead, she carried his words with her now—a reminder that no matter how far apart they might be in the moment, he was with her. Always.

    “The Sky Watcher… should I even ask?”

    She chuckled softly to herself, shaking her head. “Maker help you, Cullen,” she murmured, her voice warm with affection. “You’re going to have questions when you meet him.”

    The thought made her smile linger a little longer, the warmth of the letter chasing away the chill of the night. For the first time in days, she felt like herself again.

    ~~~

    After a little over two weeks away, Ariana was ready to be back in Skyhold. Every ache in her body begged for rest, but more than that, she longed for something—someone—familiar. The Fallow Mire’s oppressive dampness and the Hinterlands’ relentless unrest had drained her more than she wanted to admit. And as much as she loved her companions, she needed quiet. She needed Cullen.

    When her group stopped to make camp, the faint glow of Skyhold’s lights was visible in the distance, barely breaking through the thick mountain mist. Ariana stood at the edge of the clearing, arms crossed as she stared toward the faint promise of home. They were only a few hours away. She weighed the comfort of staying with her companions against the thought of finally walking through Skyhold’s gates. The decision wasn’t difficult.

    “I’m pushing through,” she announced, turning back to them.

    Cassandra frowned, glancing up from her spot near the fire. “It’s late. The roads could be dangerous in the dark.”

    Ariana smiled faintly, appreciating the concern but shaking her head. “I’ll be fine. I just… I need to be home.”

    Neither Cassandra nor the others protested further, though she caught Dorian giving her a knowing look.

    The gates of Skyhold creaked open to let her in, and Ariana’s heart lifted at the sight of the quiet courtyard. Most of the fortress had settled into sleep, the bustle of daily life replaced by the calm of the late hour. Even the tavern’s usual hum of activity had faded, the faint glow of light through the windows suggesting only a handful of patrons remained.

    She dismounted, handing the reins of her horse to a nearby soldier who looked surprised to see her. “Take care of her, will you?” she said softly, patting the mare’s neck before turning toward the battlements.

    Her gaze fell on the faint light spilling from the tower office she had cleaned up for Cullen before she left. She could just make out his silhouette at the desk, and she felt a pang of affection—and exasperation. Why don’t you ever sleep? she thought, shaking her head. The bridge leading to the tower had been rebuilt in her absence, and she was grateful for the easier access, though she suspected it had been Cullen’s insistence that prioritized it.

    As she climbed the steps, her anticipation mingled with a touch of nervousness. It had been weeks since they’d seen each other, and she could already see the exhaustion etched into his features from where she stood. Have you been sleeping at all? she wondered.

    Her steps slowed as she approached the slightly ajar door. Just as she was about to push it open, a scout hurried through the door leading from the bridge.

    “Report,” Cullen demanded, his tone sharp with impatience.

    “I… yes, sir,” the scout stammered, visibly unnerved. “We are not sure—that is to say… well—”

    “What?” Cullen’s voice rose, the frustration clear. “Where is the Inquisitor?”

    Ariana leaned against the doorframe, tilting her head as she watched the exchange. She raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching with amusement. She had ridden through the gates openly, her arrival far from subtle, and yet here was a scout stumbling over their words, clearly terrified of Cullen’s reaction.

    “Well, sir,” the scout continued, clearing his throat in a futile attempt to steady his voice, “we know she did not camp with her party. They’re accounted for a few hours away from Skyhold. But… the Inquisitor isn’t with them.”

    Cullen’s fist came down hard on the desk, the sound echoing in the room. Before he could unleash whatever was clearly on the tip of his tongue, Ariana decided to intervene.

    “I believe I may be able to help,” she said, her voice light and amused as she pushed the door open further.

    Both Cullen and the scout turned sharply, their expressions shifting from alarm to shock as their gazes landed on her.

    “The Inquisitor just rode through the main gate about ten minutes ago,” she continued, feigning innocence as she crossed her arms. “Hadn’t you mentioned something about improving the accuracy of scout reports, Commander?”

    “Your Worship!” the scout stammered, his face pale.

    “Dismissed,” Ariana said with a wave of her hand, her tone casual but firm. “I’ll handle this.”

    The scout practically bolted from the room, leaving Cullen and Ariana alone. As the door closed behind her, she stepped further in, unable to stop the smile spreading across her face.

    “So…” she began, her voice teasing as her gaze swept the room. “I see you decided to keep this as your office.”

    Cullen’s expression softened the moment the scout left, his frustration melting into something far warmer as his eyes met hers. “Ari…” he murmured, his voice low and full of relief.

    The weariness in his features didn’t escape her, nor did the way his shoulders relaxed as though a weight had been lifted simply by her presence. She crossed the room, closing the space between them in a few quick steps.

    “Did you miss me?” she asked lightly, though the answer was already clear in the way his hands reached for her.

    “You have no idea,” he replied, his tone carrying more emotion than she expected.

    Cullen’s hands rested lightly on her arms as if grounding himself in the reality of her presence. “Why did you ride through the night?” he asked, his voice tinged with both concern and exasperation. “You could have stayed with your group and rested.”

    Ariana raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a faintly amused smile. “Says the man who looks like he hasn’t seen the inside of his bed in two weeks,” she countered, her tone light but pointed.

    Cullen sighed, the corner of his mouth twitching upward despite himself. “That’s different,” he protested, though the argument was weak and they both knew it.

    “Is it?” Ariana stepped closer, tilting her head as she examined his face. “Your eyes are bloodshot, Cullen. How many hours of sleep have you been getting? Two? Three?”

    He avoided her gaze, clearing his throat. “I’ve had… priorities.”

    “So have I,” she replied, arching an eyebrow in mock defiance. “But you don’t see me pushing through and heading somewhere else instead of coming home, do you?”

    His lips parted to respond, but she cut him off with a knowing look. “Before you say it, no, I’m not leaving this office without you. You’re coming to bed, Commander.”

    Cullen hesitated, torn between the work waiting on his desk and the woman standing in front of him. “Ari, I—”

    “Cullen,” she interrupted, her tone softening, though the teasing glint remained in her eyes. “You asked why I rode through the night. It’s because I’d rather be in bed with you. I could just make it an order if that’s easier.”

    That earned a laugh, low and genuine, and he shook his head. “You would.”

    “I would,” she confirmed, her smile widening as she reached for his hand. “But I’d rather not have to. Come on. You’ll work better after some sleep.”

    He sighed, relenting as her fingers intertwined with his, tugging him gently toward the ladder that led to the upper level of the tower.

    Ariana climbed the ladder to the small bedroom above Cullen’s office, her body aching with exhaustion but her mind buzzing with anticipation. As her head crested the floor, she paused, taking in the room she had carefully prepared for them weeks ago. It looked almost untouched—the bed was unmade but looked barely slept in, and the candles arranged precisely the same way.

    Her brow furrowed as she pulled herself the rest of the way up. Had he been sleeping somewhere else? Or worse, had he not been sleeping at all?

    Cullen’s footsteps followed her up the ladder, his heavy boots creaking against the wooden rungs. When he reached the top, she glanced back at him, her gaze sharp despite her weariness.

    “It looks exactly as I left it,” she said softly, her tone somewhere between curiosity and concern.

    Cullen hesitated, his hand lingering on the ladder as he avoided her gaze. “I’ve been… busy,” he admitted, though the slight unease in his voice betrayed the full truth.

    “Busy?” Ariana echoed, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow. “You mean you haven’t slept.”

    He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ve slept. Just… not much.”

    “Cullen,” she muttered, shaking her head as she stepped into the room. She walked over to the bed, her fingers brushing against the untouched blanket. “You can’t do this forever. You also need rest.”

    Cullen followed her, his amber eyes softening as he watched her trace the edges of the room with her gaze. “I know,” he said quietly.

    Her heart ached at his quiet confession, but she pushed it aside, her weariness leaving no room for scolding. Instead, she sank onto the edge of the bed with a sigh, kicking off her boots and leaning back on her hands.

    “Come here,” she said, her voice gentle but insistent.

    Cullen didn’t hesitate this time. He shed his boots and armor quickly, setting everything aside with the efficiency of a soldier. When he turned back to her, she was watching him, her hazel-green eyes soft but tinged with amusement.

    “What?” he asked, tilting his head slightly.

    “Nothing,” she replied, though the faint curve of her lips betrayed her thoughts. “Just wondering if Bull’s right.”

    “Bull?” Cullen frowned as he sat beside her.

    “Apparently, you’ve earned his respect,” Ariana said, her smirk widening as she leaned back on her elbows. “He thinks you deserve a medal.”

    Cullen groaned, running a hand down his face. “What did he say?”

    “Oh, nothing too scandalous,” she teased, her voice light despite her exhaustion. “But let’s just say you’ve impressed him.”

    He shook his head, a low chuckle escaping as he leaned back beside her. “Maker help me. You and Bull are conspiring now?”

    “Not conspiring,” she corrected with a smirk. “Just… bonding over our shared appreciation of you.”

    His laugh was soft, and as it rumbled through her, it eased some of the tension she hadn’t realized she was still carrying.

    She nudged his shoulder with hers. “You really didn’t have to wait for me, you know. I’m tired, but I can take care of myself.”

    “I know you can,” Cullen said, his voice quieter now. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t worry.”

    Ariana sighed, her playful smile softening. “And here I thought I was supposed to be the stubborn one.”

    “You’re not supposed to be anything,” Cullen replied, his hand brushing against hers. “But you are stubborn. And infuriating. And impossible to keep out of trouble.”

    “But do you love me?” she asked, the teasing lilt returning to her voice.

    He smiled, his fingers lacing through hers. “I do.”

    Ariana felt her cheeks warm, even after all these years, and she gave his hand a small squeeze. “Well, in that case, you’ll forgive me for dragging you to bed when you clearly need sleep. And I came home for just this.”

    Cullen opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off with a pointed look.

    “Cullen,” she said firmly, though the corners of her lips twitched with amusement, “I will order you to bed if I have to.”

    He sighed, shaking his head. “I don’t think that’s necessary, Inquisitor.”

    “Good,” she said, tugging him toward the pillows.

    As they settled under the blanket, Cullen hesitated, glancing toward the ladder. “I should—”

    “Stay with me,” Ariana interrupted, her voice barely above a whisper. She shifted closer, resting her head against his chest, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. “Please.”

    His hesitation melted away as he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close. “I’m here,” he murmured, his voice low and steady.

    Ariana closed her eyes, the warmth of his presence grounding her as the exhaustion of the last two weeks finally caught up with her. “I missed this,” she whispered, her words slurring slightly as sleep began to claim her.

    “So did I,” Cullen replied, his hand brushing gently through her hair.

    As her breathing evened out, Cullen lay still, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. For the first time in weeks, he felt a sense of peace settle over him. She was home, safe, and in his arms.

    ~~~

    Cullen stirred awake to the soft light of dawn filtering through the small window above them. The warmth of Ariana’s body against his chest kept him from moving right away, her steady breaths brushing lightly against his skin. He blinked, taking in the quiet moment, and realized she wasn’t fully asleep. Her fingers traced idle patterns along the lines of his muscles, her touch light but absentminded.

    He glanced down, finding her gaze fixed somewhere beyond him, distant and shadowed. The worry etched in her expression tugged at his heart.

    “Ari,” he murmured, his voice still rough from sleep. “What’s wrong?”

    Her fingers stilled, and for a moment, she didn’t answer. Then she sighed softly, her gaze finally meeting his. “It’s… nothing. Just—everything.”

    “That doesn’t sound like nothing,” he said gently, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. “Talk to me.”

    She hesitated, but something in his tone—steady, reassuring—seemed to unlock whatever she’d been holding back. She shifted slightly, propping herself up on her elbow as she looked down at him.

    “It’s the Hinterlands,” she began, her voice quiet. “I knew it was bad, but Cullen… I don’t think I was prepared for what I found this time.” She paused, drawing in a shaky breath. “I’m so tired of finding bodies with letters from their loved ones. Husbands writing to their wives, parents to their children. Innocents caught in the crossfire of a war they didn’t ask for.”

    Cullen frowned, his brows knitting together as he listened.

    “And it’s not just the innocents,” she continued, her voice thick with emotion. “There were mages and Templars, Cullen—people who were lovers or friends. They refused to fight one another, tried to escape to some quiet place where they could be safe together… but they didn’t make it back to each other.”

    Her voice cracked, and she shook her head, her jaw tightening. “Even one of our scouts… she found solace with a mage she met. I saved her from Templars who attacked them, but her mage friend… she was already gone by the time I got there.”

    She looked away, her eyes shimmering faintly in the morning light. “How much more will this war cost, Cullen? How many more lives? It feels like nothing I do will ever be enough.”

    Cullen sat up slowly, his hand reaching for hers. “Ari…” he started, his voice low and steady, but she shook her head.

    After a moment, she eased herself back down, resting her head against his chest. His arm instinctively tightened around her, pulling her close as she continued.

    “The people there—Cullen, they’re desperate. They need supplies, protection. Every time I’m in the Hinterlands, it’s the same story: bandits, rogue mages, rogue Templars wreaking havoc. I need Rangers or Inquisition forces stationed there. Something more permanent.”

    Cullen nodded, his hand brushing along her arm in a quiet attempt to soothe her. “I’ll make it happen.”

    She exhaled slowly, shifting slightly as though trying to find a more comfortable position. “And the red Templars,” she added, her voice hardening. “I ran into a few parties of them. Haven’t found a base or anything deeper, but they’re there, and I don’t know why. Leliana and Linnea need to look into it. Whatever they’re doing, it can’t be good.”

    “I’ll speak with them,” Cullen promised. “We’ll find out what they’re up to.”

    Cullen couldn’t help but feel this was one more lead. They hadn’t talked about it, but Cullen had been looking for the Red Templars, for Samson. Ariana’s lead was one more step, hopefully in the right direction.

    Her shoulders eased slightly at his response, and she let out a deep breath. For the first time since she began speaking, her voice softened. “What can you tell me about Recruit Whittle?” she asked, almost tentatively.

    “Whittle?” Cullen echoed, surprised by the shift. “He’s… young, but eager. Quick to learn. Why?”

    “I like him,” Ariana said simply, her tone lighter now. “He’s practical. When I spoke to him, his concern wasn’t the war or politics—it was making sure the villagers had enough supplies to stay warm. He had good ideas about where to find them, too. Sent me searching for some supply caches left behind by the rebel mages in the area. We need more people who think like that. Those who just want to help those who can’t help themselves.”

    Cullen couldn’t help but smile faintly, his chest tightening with a mixture of pride and amazement. Even with everything weighing on her, she still noticed the recruits no one else might, the ones who thought of solutions rather than problems. “I’ll keep an eye on him.”

    “Thank you,” she said, her lips curving faintly as she shifted to rest more fully against him. “Oh, I also recruited Speaker Anais and her Cult of Andraste. They’ll be spreading word of the Inquisition and should be reporting to Josephine soon. And Lord Berand…” Her voice faltered briefly. “He and his men should be reporting to you as well. I couldn’t save his lover, Cullen. But now, he’s committed to fighting for us.”

    Cullen nodded, his hand brushing lightly over her back in slow, reassuring strokes. “I’ll make sure they’re both welcomed and briefed.”

    Ariana exhaled deeply, her breath warm against his skin as she closed her eyes. “Thank you,” she murmured. Her voice was quieter now, the heaviness in it easing bit by bit.

    Cullen pressed a kiss to her hair, his heart aching at the weight she carried but swelling with admiration for the way she bore it. “You don’t have to do this alone, Ari,” he said softly. “We’re in this together.”

    “I know,” she whispered finally, her voice barely audible.

    She tilted her head to look at him, her hazel-green eyes filled with a mixture of exhaustion and gratitude. “Thank you,” she said again, her lips curving into a faint smile.

    Cullen returned her smile, his fingers brushing lightly against her cheek. “Always.”

    She let out a quiet sigh as she rested her head against his chest once more. Cullen held her close, his own heart aching for the burden she carried, but filled with admiration for the strength she showed every day.

    As her breathing slowed, and she fell asleep again, Cullen couldn’t help but marvel at her. Even in her weariness, even when she doubted herself, she had a way of noticing the things others overlooked—young recruits, struggling scouts, the smallest glimmers of hope in a war-torn world. And somehow, she made those things matter.

    His arm tightened around her protectively, his voice a quiet promise in the stillness of the morning. “You don’t have to carry it all alone, Ari. I’m here. Always.”

  • Chapter 76 – Time to Heal

    10 – 11 Justinian 9:41

    The morning sun filtered through the high windows of Skyhold, casting golden rays across the stone walls of the fortress. Ariana stood at the battlements, her arms resting on the cool stone as she watched the courtyard below. Soldiers moved in synchronized drills, villagers bustled with daily tasks, and merchants shouted over one another as they set up their makeshift stalls.

    The crisp mountain air carried the faint clatter of swords and hammers—a sound she’d always found comforting. Yet, despite the familiar rhythm, Ariana couldn’t shake the heaviness in her chest.

    Since being named Inquisitor, her days had blurred into a chaotic whirlwind of decisions and expectations. Each morning seemed to bring new responsibilities, and she was still trying to figure out how to carry the weight of it all.

    She sighed softly, running a hand through her hair. The deference others now showed her, the bows and titles—it all felt surreal. Unnatural.

    “It’s like they’ve forgotten I’m just me,” she muttered to herself.

    “Talking to yourself now?” a familiar voice called from behind her, light with amusement.

    Ariana turned to see Cullen approaching, his expression equal parts bemusement and concern. His armor gleamed faintly in the sunlight, but it was the steady warmth in his hazel eyes that drew her attention.

    “More like trying to sort out my thoughts,” she replied lightly, though a hint of weariness lingered beneath her words. She tilted her head, her brow furrowing slightly. “You left early this morning.”

    Cullen nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “I promised a recruit I’d help him with something. He’s been struggling with his footwork, but I’ll give him credit—he’s determined.”

    “That sounds like you,” Ariana said with a soft laugh. “If you need help, send him to Elliott. Maker knows how nervous he was when he first joined us. He was so nervous riding with me that he almost fell off his horse before we even made it to Redcliffe.”

    Her laughter brightened the morning air, and Cullen chuckled at the memory. But her gaze drifted back to the courtyard, her smile fading as her thoughts turned inward again. The weight of her new role settled heavily on her shoulders, a constant reminder of how much her life had changed.

    As if sensing her unease, Cullen stepped closer, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Ari, are you alright?”

    “I don’t know,” she admitted softly, her eyes fixed on the training yard below. “I just feel… more at home down there than I do in the war room. Watching, strategizing, planning—it’s not me. I’d rather be down there, training with them, helping them get better.”

    Cullen was quiet for a moment, listening as she continued.

    “There was this one time in Kirkwall,” she said with a faint smile, her tone lighter. “Lamberto asked me to help him teach the recruits some basics. I’d just walked into the warehouse, hadn’t even set down my things yet, and he was already barking at me to demonstrate something. So I did. I showed them the basics—and then, well, I might’ve kicked his ass in front of everyone.” She laughed softly at the memory.

    Cullen’s laugh joined hers, warm and genuine. “If that’s what you want to do, Ari, then go do it. I won’t stop you from training the recruits. Maker knows most of them could use the help.”

    Ariana blinked, turning to look at him. His response caught her off guard. For a moment, she held his gaze, her thoughts spinning. Can I really do that?

    “Do… do you mean it?” she asked cautiously.

    Cullen chuckled, his hand brushing lightly against her arm. “Ari, love, you don’t need my permission. You’re the Inquisitor. If you want to spend your mornings in the training yard, then do that. If you want to spend your time with Riley and the Rangers, organizing missions, then do that. The Inquisition will follow you, whoever you choose to be and however you choose to lead.”

    His words settled over her like the morning sun, warming her in a way she hadn’t expected. She smiled, the truth of his words beginning to take root in her heart.

    “But what if I’d like my Commander training with me instead?” she asked, a playful glint in her eyes as she bit her lip.

    Cullen shook his head, laughing softly. “Then I will be there,” he promised, leaning in to kiss her.

    Ariana responded without hesitation, wrapping her arms around him. For the first time in days, she felt the weight on her shoulders ease. She realized then that she didn’t need to separate herself from the White Wolf or the life she had led before. The Inquisitor could be all of that and more.

    When they pulled apart, she rested her forehead against his. “Thank you, Cullen. For everything.”

    “You never need to thank me, love,” he said, his voice soft. “I’m here. Whatever you need.”

    Ariana smiled faintly, savoring the quiet moment between them. But reality intruded, as it always did. “Are you ready to head to the war room? I’m sure Leliana and Josephine have been debating since dawn which matter is most urgent.”

    “Of course they have,” Cullen said with a smirk. “And you? Do you have a preference?”

    She raised an eyebrow, hopeful. “Do you have something actionable for me?”

    Cullen sighed, his smile turning rueful. “I do, though I’m not sure you’ll like it.”

    “Of course not,” she said with a groan, though the sincerity in his tone brought a faint smile to her lips. “Alright, Commander. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

    As they walked together toward the war room, Ariana greeted soldiers and villagers along the way. For the first time, the bows and respectful murmurs didn’t feel as heavy. The doubts she had carried since her naming ceremony began to ease, piece by piece.

    If they had chosen her to be their Inquisitor, then she would be who she had always been.

    She wasn’t giving up the White Wolf or the life she loved. She was finding a way to carry it all—and for the first time, she believed she could.

    ~~~

    By the time Ariana and Cullen entered the war room, Leliana, and Josephine were already gathered around the massive map of Thedas that dominated the table. Markers and notes cluttered its surface, denoting areas of unrest, ongoing missions, and critical concerns. The advisors straightened as she approached, their expressions a mix of anticipation and determination.

    “All right, what do we have today?” Ariana asked, leaning against the edge of the table.

    Cullen started first, his tone steady but grim. “We’ve located the soldiers who went missing in the Fallow Mire. Fortunately, they’re alive… for now.”

    Ariana’s brow arched, bracing herself for the inevitable caveat. “Why do I sense a ‘but’ coming?”

    Cullen exhaled heavily, his expression tightening. “They’re being held hostage by Avvar. Their leader demands to meet with the ‘Herald of Andraste’ if we want to see them released.”

    Pinching the bridge of her nose, Ariana let out a frustrated sigh. “Please tell me they aren’t expecting me to appear tomorrow. That’s at least a seven-day ride—and that’s if I ride like I’ve got a dragon on my heels.”

    “They haven’t given a specific deadline for your arrival,” Cullen assured her. “We can send word that you’re on your way. That should buy us time.”

    “Fine,” she said with a resigned nod. “Send the message. I’ll leave at first light.”

    Leliana stepped in next, her voice carrying the clipped precision of someone accustomed to delivering unwelcome news. “There’s also a request from Varric. He believes a Formari mage might be able to improve Bianca.”

    Ariana’s gaze sharpened. “And what’s the catch?”

    “Not exactly a catch,” Leliana replied, her tone measured. “The mage specialized in siege engines, which could prove valuable to us. But given the chaos of the rebellion, it’s possible this lead will lead nowhere.”

    Ariana sighed, crossing her arms. “Do you think it’s worth pursuing?”

    Leliana’s lips quirked slightly. “The potential gain outweighs the cost, I think. But Varric may need to temper his expectations.”

    “Fine. Send the agents,” Ariana said, waving a hand. “What else?”

    Josephine lifted an envelope from the table, her expression curious. “We’ve received a letter from Prince Sebastian Vael. He—”

    “Sebastian!” Ariana interrupted, reaching eagerly for the letter. Breaking the seal, she scanned its contents, a soft smile spreading across her face.

    Josephine tilted her head, intrigued. “You know the prince personally?”

    Ariana nodded, still reading. “We met through Hawke. He stayed with us for a while after leaving Kirkwall. We even found out we might be distantly related. We spent weeks digging through records, though we never confirmed it.”

    “What does he say?” Leliana asked, her curiosity piqued.

    “He’s offering Starkhaven’s alliance to the Inquisition,” Ariana said, her voice carrying a mix of pride and affection. “He reclaimed the throne, just like he said he would. And now… now he’s keeping his word.”

    Josephine smiled warmly. “I had planned to send emissaries to respond.”

    “Do,” Ariana replied. “I’ll add a personal letter to go with them. You’ll have it before I leave.”

    “Of course, Inquisitor,” Josephine said with a nod.

    As the discussion wound down, Ariana glanced around the room. “Anything else I need to know before tomorrow?”

    Cullen gestured toward the map. “Nothing that can’t wait.”

    With a nod, Ariana pushed away from the table. “Then I trust you all to handle things while I’m gone. Keep me updated.”

    As the advisors began to disperse, Cullen lingered, his gaze following Ariana as she tucked Sebastian’s letter into her pocket. Once the room had emptied, he stepped closer, his voice softer, more personal.

    “Inquisitor Trevelyan,” he said, his lips quirking into a wry smile. “Still not used to it, are you?”

    Ariana groaned, leaning against the table. “Not you too. Don’t you know better, Cullen?”

    He chuckled, closing the distance between them. His hands rested on the table, one on either side of her, effectively trapping her in place. “It’s precisely because I know better, Inquisitor,” he murmured, his tone dipping low.

    The way he said it sent a shiver down her spine, catching her completely off guard. For a moment, she forgot her retort, her sharp mind faltering as she stared up at him.

    “Cullen…” she began, though her voice was far less steady than she intended. “You’re—”

    “Distracting?” he finished, his smirk widening as he leaned closer.

    “Infuriating,” she corrected, though her tone lacked conviction. She bit her lip, trying and failing to suppress the smile tugging at her mouth. “And distracting.”

    “Forgive me,” he said, his voice rich with playful insinuation. “I hadn’t realized.”

    Before she could counter, he kissed her, the intensity of it stealing her breath. Her arms slid instinctively around his neck, pulling him closer as she lost herself in him. The weeks of strain, of sleepless nights and unspoken fears, melted away in that moment.

    When they finally broke apart, her breathing was uneven, her lips tingling. “Careful, Commander,” she teased, her voice husky. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”

    “Am I?” he asked, his tone low, his eyes dark with longing. “Forgive me again, Inquisitor.”

    Ariana’s laugh was soft, her hands resting against his chest as she looked up at him. “You’re impossible.”

    “And yet you agreed to marry me,” Cullen replied without hesitation, his expression softening as he brushed a strand of hair from her face.

    Her smile faltered slightly, replaced by something more vulnerable. “I did,” she said quietly. “And I hate leaving you. But we’ll finish this later. I promise.”

    Cullen nodded, his jaw tightening as he stepped back reluctantly. “I’ll hold you to that.”

    As Ariana turned to leave, she glanced back over her shoulder, her voice carrying a teasing lilt. “Meet me in the tavern tonight, Commander. I have an idea.”

    Cullen’s smirk returned, though his gaze remained warm and steady. “I’ll be there.”

    ~~~

    The tavern was alive with the hum of conversation, the clink of tankards, and the occasional burst of laughter. Cullen paused just inside the door, scanning the room until his gaze landed on Ariana. She sat at a table near the center, surrounded by Riley, Hawke, Valentina, and Lamberto, all of them deep into a game of Wicked Grace. Judging by the pile of coins in the middle of the table and the smirks on their faces, things had already gotten competitive.

    His lips twitched into a smile as he watched her. There was an ease to her posture, her head tilted slightly as she exchanged quips with Riley. She seemed lighter tonight, more herself. Cullen couldn’t deny how deeply attractive she was when she was like this—confident, teasing, and completely in her element. But beyond that, it brought him relief to see her like this after the past few days of tension and self-doubt.

    He approached just as Hawke slammed a card down with dramatic flair. “Full company!” she declared, grinning smugly as she leaned back in her chair.

    Riley groaned, tossing her cards onto the table. “Maker’s breath, you’re cheating.”

    “Don’t hate the player,” Hawke quipped, scooping the winnings into her pile. “Hate your terrible bluffing skills.”

    “Don’t let her fool you,” Ariana chimed in, her voice light with laughter. “She’s bluffing half the time too.”

    Hawke shot her a mock glare. “Careful, Inquisitor, or I’ll start gunning for your pile next.”

    Riley snorted. “Good luck with that. Wolf doesn’t lose easily.”

    Ariana’s gaze shifted, catching Cullen as he approached. She motioned to the empty chair beside her, her lips curving into a playful smile. “What do you think, Commander? Do you think you can take me?”

    The double meaning wasn’t lost on him, and he chuckled, shaking his head as he slid into the seat next to her. “I’m afraid I’m not much of a card player.”

    “That just makes it easier for us,” Valentina quipped, shuffling the deck with quick, practiced movements.

    Riley smirked, tossing another coin into the pot. “Come on, Commander. Don’t be shy. We’ll take it easy on you. For the first hand.”

    “I doubt that,” Cullen said dryly, though he leaned closer to Ariana, their shoulders brushing. She glanced at him, her smirk softening into something quieter, more personal, before the game resumed.

    The group’s banter was relentless, the kind of teasing camaraderie Cullen recognized from his own days as a recruit. Hawke and Riley each won a few rounds, though Ariana’s ability to keep her cards—and her intentions—hidden was unmatched. Cullen folded more often than not, content to observe the dynamics at the table. He couldn’t help but admire how natural Ariana was here, laughing and goading Riley with a mischievous quirk of her brow. She wasn’t the weight-of-the-world Inquisitor tonight—she was her. And Maker, she was captivating.

    On the final hand, Riley, Hawke, and Ariana all grinned like wolves sizing up prey. Lamberto groaned, folding his cards. “I know better than to get between the three of you.”

    Cullen followed suit, placing his cards facedown. “I’ll take the honorable retreat.”

    The three women exchanged competitive glances before revealing their cards one by one. Hawke had a strong hand, and Riley’s was even better. But when Ariana laid her cards on the table, Riley groaned loudly.

    “Damn it,” Riley muttered, throwing her cards down. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

    Ariana’s sly grin was entirely unapologetic. “I’m not. And I hate to disappoint, but I’m not giving you another chance to win your money back tonight.”

    “Coward,” Hawke teased, echoing Ariana’s earlier jab.

    Ariana stood, tucking her coins into her pouch as she prepared to leave. “Call it whatever you want. I’ve got better plans for the rest of my night.”

    The silence at the table lasted all of two seconds before Riley smirked, leaning back with arms crossed. “Oh, we see that, Wolf. Don’t even pretend that wasn’t meant to be obvious.”

    “Oh, Maker, she was just waiting to win before she left!” Hawke exclaimed, laughing. “Ari, you can’t just drop a line like that and not expect us to notice.”

    Ariana rolled her eyes, but her cheeks flushed faintly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, feigning innocence as she adjusted her pouch.

    Cullen sighed, rubbing his temples, but he couldn’t hide his amusement—or the way his pulse quickened when she turned her knowing smirk on him. She was clearly enjoying herself, and despite the teasing, he was happy to see her like this. Her confidence, her boldness—it was intoxicating, but more than that, it was proof that the weight she carried hadn’t crushed her. If anything, it made her shine brighter.

    “Well, Commander, it certainly looks like you weren’t expecting that,” Lamberto said, gesturing toward Ariana.

    Cullen cleared his throat, glancing at her. “She does like keeping me on my toes.”

    Hawke leaned forward, elbows on the table and eyes gleaming with mischief. “Commander, are you really going to let her lead you out of here like that? You’re not even going to pretend to put up a fight?”

    Riley snorted, tossing a coin into the pile. “Oh, come on, Hawke. You’d follow her too, and we all know it.”

    “I mean, fair,” Hawke admitted with a shrug. “But I’d make it look like it was my idea.”

    Ariana shook her head, grinning. “Riley would follow me too, and she wouldn’t even pretend it was her idea.”

    “It’s true, Riley would follow in a heartbeat,” Valentina said with a smirk, raising her drink in mock salute.

    Riley groaned. “Andraste’s ass, there’s not a person in this tavern who wouldn’t follow her if she said it like that.

    Ariana laughed, turning to Cullen as she motioned toward the door. “Come on, Commander. Let’s leave them to their terrible hands and worse jokes.”

    Cullen rose, nodding to the group. “Try not to lose too much more money while we’re gone.”

    “Oh, we’ll be fine,” Riley said, smirking. “The real question is whether you’ll survive the night.”

    Cullen chuckled softly, placing his hand on the small of Ariana’s back as they made their way out. The teasing laughter followed them into the night, but as she led him toward the battlements, her steps confident and purposeful, he realized he didn’t care. Not tonight.

    ~~~

    Ariana led him out of the tavern and across the courtyard, her steps purposeful. They ascended the battlements near the main gate, eventually stopping at a tower Cullen didn’t recognize. She opened the door and gestured for him to follow her inside.

    “What is this place?” he asked, glancing around. The room was sparsely furnished with an old desk and several dusty bookshelves, though Ariana had clearly tidied it up.

    “I found it while exploring,” she said casually, walking over to the ladder at the far end of the room. “Seems like it used to be someone’s office. But that’s not the best part.” She climbed the ladder, her voice floating down to him. “Come on.”

    Cullen followed her up, emerging into what had once been someone’s quarters. It was small but cozy, with a bed tucked into the corner and a few candles providing a warm glow. The flickering light cast playful shadows on the walls, softening the sharp edges of the stone. To his surprise, the space had been meticulously cleaned and arranged, with fresh blankets on the bed and a few personal touches—a book on the nightstand, a lantern by the window.

    Cullen laughed softly, shaking his head as he took in the sight. “You’ve been busy.”

    “I didn’t think our tent offered enough privacy,” Ariana said, her tone light but her meaning unmistakable. Her gaze met his, a playful glint in her eyes. “Didn’t think you’d mind?”

    “Not at all,” Cullen said, his voice low as he stepped closer. “So, is this what you spent all day doing?”

    “Maybe,” she teased, tilting her head. “Are you complaining?”

    His response was immediate, a soft laugh escaping as he closed the space between them. His hands found her waist, pulling her flush against him. “Not at all.”

    Before she could say anything else, he swept her off her feet, her laughter turning into a surprised gasp as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He carried her to the bed, laying her down gently before leaning over her, his amber eyes dark with a mix of affection and desire.

    Ariana’s lips curved into a mischievous smile as she tugged him down toward her. “I thought you might appreciate a quieter spot to finish what we started earlier.”

    Cullen’s laughter was low, his breath warm against her skin. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

    “Of course,” she said with a grin, her voice teasing. “But I don’t mind hearing it again.”

    As he leaned in and kissed her, Cullen couldn’t help but feel the sharp edge of tomorrow pressing against the moment. She was leaving—again. She had just returned to him, and now she would be gone, riding into a world that was still reeling from Haven’s destruction, still dangerous and unpredictable.

    He knew his fear was irrational. Ariana had proven herself time and again—she was strong, capable, and resilient. But the memory of her bruised and battered, finding her in the aftermath of Haven, was burned into his mind. The thought of her riding away without him, of something happening to her while he was here—powerless to protect her—made his chest tighten painfully.

    As he leaned over her, his hands bracing the bed on either side of her, he felt the weight of all the words he could not say. The things he wanted to tell her—to beg her to stay, to let him go with her, to promise she would come back—remained lodged in his throat. Instead, he let his lips find hers again, pouring every unspoken fear and longing into the kiss.

    Her fingers tangled in his hair, her touch grounding him as his body pressed against hers. Ariana’s warmth, her laughter, her steady strength—it was all here, in this room, in this moment. But tomorrow, she would be gone. And Cullen wasn’t sure how to reconcile the knot of fear in his chest with the love he felt for her.

    “You don’t have to worry so much, you know,” she whispered against his lips, as though she could read the tension in his body, the thoughts swirling in his head.

    Cullen pulled back just enough to look at her, his amber eyes meeting her hazel-green gaze. “You say that like it’s easy,” he said softly, his voice rough with emotion.

    Her smile turned mischievous, and before he could say anything else, she kissed him. It was bold and unhesitating, her lips moving against his with a confidence that left no room for doubt. Cullen’s breath caught, his hands instinctively pulling her closer as she deepened the kiss, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

    When they finally broke apart, he was breathing harder than he realized, and she was watching him with a smugness that made him both want to laugh and kiss her senseless.

    “You’re not going to think about tomorrow tonight,” she said firmly, her voice softer now but no less sure. “That’s an order, Commander.”

    Cullen chuckled, his hands sliding up to frame her face. “Oh, so you’re in charge now?” he teased, though the low rasp in his voice betrayed how much she had already undone him.

    Ariana’s grin widened. “Absolutely,” she said, leaning in to brush her lips against his jaw, her voice dropping to a whisper. “And you’re going to do exactly what I say.”

    Her hands slid lower, tugging at the edge of his shirt, and Cullen groaned softly as she began to undress him with a kind of deliberate slowness that was both maddening and intoxicating. The teasing curve of her lips told him she was enjoying this, savoring his reactions as much as he savored her touch.

    When flipped him back onto the bed, straddling his hips, Cullen let her, his body responding instantly to the warmth of her pressed against him. Her boldness had always drawn him to her, and tonight, that confidence burned brighter than ever.

    But as much as he admired the way she took control, something inside him wouldn’t let her keep it—not tonight. Not when every kiss, every touch, reminded him how easily she could be taken away.

    When she leaned down, her lips brushing against his neck, her teeth grazing the sensitive skin just below his ear, Cullen’s hands tightened on her hips. A growl escaped him, low and deep in his throat, and before she could react, he shifted his weight, flipping her onto her back with a suddenness that made her gasp.

    Ariana’s wide hazel-green eyes locked onto his, her surprise quickly melting into a slow, mischievous smile. “Oh?” she said, her voice breathless but still laced with that bold, teasing edge. “Decided you’ve had enough of my orders, Commander?”

    Cullen braced himself above her, his golden eyes dark and intent as they roamed over her flushed face, her tousled hair, the way her body curved beneath him. “I’ve had enough of letting you think you’re in control,” he murmured, his voice low and rough with desire.

    Her smile widened, her hands sliding up his arms to rest on his shoulders. “Is that so?”

    “Very,” he replied, leaning down until his lips were a breath away from hers. “And now, Inquisitor, I’m going to show you exactly what you mean to me.”

    His kiss was hard, deep, and unrelenting, leaving no room for Ariana’s teasing to resurface. Cullen poured everything he felt into the kiss—the love, the fear, the overwhelming need to remind her she wasn’t just his Inquisitor, wasn’t just the leader of the Silver Rangers. She was his.

    Ariana’s boldness faltered under the weight of his intensity, her teasing smile replaced by a soft gasp as his lips left hers, trailing down her jaw, her neck, the curve of her shoulder. Cullen wasn’t gentle, not entirely. His touch was firm, deliberate, as though he wanted to mark her, to imprint this moment onto her skin so she would carry it with her when she left.

    Her hands slid to his back, her nails digging in slightly as his lips found the sensitive spot just below her collarbone. She arched beneath him, her breath hitching as he pressed his weight against her, holding her in place.

    “Cullen,” she murmured, her voice softer now, almost pleading.

    He lifted his head, his amber eyes meeting hers, and the vulnerability he saw there made his chest tighten. “I’ve let you lead, Ariana,” he said, his voice low but steady. “But tonight, I need you to let me take care of you.”

    Her gaze softened, her fingers brushing against his cheek. “You already do,” she whispered.

    But Cullen shook his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Not like this,” he said, his tone tinged with something darker, something that made her shiver.

    He kissed her again, slower this time, his hands roaming her body with a deliberateness that left no inch of her unexplored. She was used to guiding him, to teasing him, but now, it was her turn to be undone.

    Cullen’s touch was firm yet tender, his lips trailing over her skin in a way that made her gasp and tremble beneath him. He moved with purpose, his hands gripping her hips as though grounding her, his kisses leaving a trail of heat that sent her heart racing.

    When she tried to take control again, shifting her weight to push him back, Cullen’s hand caught hers, pinning it above her head as his lips curved into a rare, roguish smile. “Not this time,” he said softly, his voice laced with amusement. “Tonight, you’re mine.”

    Ariana’s breath hitched, her body arching beneath him as he continued his slow, deliberate assault on her senses. He was meticulous, every touch, every move, and every kiss designed to make her lose herself, to forget everything but him. And it worked.

    She whispered his name, her voice raw and pleading, and Cullen responded with a soft groan, his hands tightening on her hips as he claimed her in a way that left no room for doubt. This wasn’t just about passion—it was about love, about grounding her as much as she grounded him, about showing her how much she meant to him.

    The hours blurred into each other, a haze of whispered names, shared laughter, and the kind of intimacy that left them both feeling raw and whole all at once.

    By the time the faint glow of twilight began to creep through the window, the night had nearly given way to morning. Cullen lay tangled with her in the sheets, his body pleasantly sore and his mind uncharacteristically quiet. The fire had long since burned low, leaving only embers to warm the room, but the heat of her beside him was all he needed.

    Ariana rested against his chest, her breath soft and even, the boldness she had carried through the night now replaced with a tranquil contentment. He brushed his fingers gently through her hair, reluctant to let the moment slip away, even as the light outside grew steadily stronger.

    “We’ll only have an hour or so before the sun rises,” he murmured, his voice low, more to himself than to her.

    Her lips curved faintly against his skin, her voice barely above a whisper. “Then I suppose we’ll just have to make it count.”

    ~~~

    Cullen woke just as dawn broke through, disoriented for a moment by the unfamiliar surroundings of the room Ariana had found for them. The faint light of the rising sun seeped through the small window, casting a soft glow over the space. His gaze shifted to her, still asleep beside him, her back pressed against his chest. One arm was draped across her waist, and he tightened it slightly, savoring the quiet warmth of her presence.

    For a while, he simply watched her. Her face, so often set with determination, was softened in sleep, her features peaceful and unguarded. Maker, how long had it been since they’d had even this small reprieve? His hand moved almost without thought, tracing idle patterns along her stomach, as if grounding himself in the reality of her presence.

    The night before had given him a sense of relief he hadn’t felt in weeks. But now, with the dawn creeping in, the weight of the day ahead pressed heavily on him. She was leaving again. And if he was honest with himself, he wasn’t ready for it.

    “Not yet,” he whispered, leaning down to press a kiss to her shoulder. The words slipped out before he could stop them, his voice barely audible even to himself.

    Ariana stirred lightly, turning in his arms to face him. Her head nestled against his chest, her eyes still closed as she muttered groggily, “What are you overthinking this time?”

    “Nothing you need to worry about, love,” he replied softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Her breathing steadied again as she drifted back to sleep, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

    The image of her atop the trebuchet in Haven surfaced unbidden, as it always did. The snow had started to fall then, thick and relentless, and he’d watched in horror as she stayed behind to trigger the avalanche. He remembered the unbearable hours that followed—wondering if she’d survived, not knowing if he’d lost her. That fear had never fully left him, even as they rebuilt and pressed on. And now, as she prepared to ride out again, it surged anew, twisting in his chest.

    When she finally stirred again, the first rays of light spilling through the window, she stretched lazily before blinking up at him. “Good morning,” she murmured, her voice still thick with sleep.

    “Morning,” Cullen replied, his hand now tracing absent shapes along her arm and shoulder. He was memorizing the way her skin felt under his fingertips, as though he could hold onto this moment just a little longer.

    She sighed softly, her lips curving into a faint smile. But then, as if remembering the day ahead, she said, “I should get going.”

    Cullen tightened his hold on her, his voice low but earnest as he admitted, “I’m not ready to let you go, Ari. After Haven… how do we even know that—”

    She silenced him with a kiss, soft and gentle, still carrying the warmth of sleep. He didn’t resist, letting the comfort of her lips quiet the turmoil in his mind.

    When she finally pulled back, her voice was a whisper against his lips. “We don’t,” she said simply. “I can’t promise you any certainty that it’s safe beyond these walls. But we still have work to do. A world to save.”

    Her words were steady, but they didn’t ease the tightness in his chest. He exhaled slowly, nodding despite the unease that lingered. He knew she couldn’t stay—not when there were lives to save and battles to fight. But knowing didn’t make it easier.

    She kissed him again, lingering a moment longer before slipping out of bed to get dressed. Cullen stayed where he was, propped on one elbow as he watched her move about the room. There was a quiet efficiency to her movements, but her eyes held a flicker of something—hesitation, perhaps, or the weight of what lay ahead.

    By the time she made her way down to the main gate, Cullen had donned his armor and joined her to see her off. The cold morning air bit at his skin as he stood by the gate, watching as Cassandra, Iron Bull, and Dorian joined her one by one. They exchanged brief words, their tones calm and practical, though the tension in the air was palpable.

    Ariana mounted her horse with practiced ease, her posture composed, her expression serene. She glanced up toward the battlements where Cullen stood, their eyes meeting across the distance. For a moment, the noise of the world around him seemed to fade. She offered him a small, reassuring smile, and he couldn’t help but return it, though the weight in his chest only grew heavier.

    As the group began their slow trek out of Skyhold, Cullen’s gaze remained fixed on her. Each step her horse took away from the gates felt like a knife twisting in his gut. He trusted her completely—her skill, her instincts—but that trust didn’t quiet the fear that coiled in his chest. She was riding into danger, and he couldn’t follow. Not this time.

    When they finally disappeared down the mountain pass, Cullen let out a shaky breath, his grip tightening on the cold stone of the battlement. A sinking feeling settled in his stomach, one he couldn’t shake.

    Turning away from the edge, he murmured a prayer under his breath. “Andraste, guide her steps… and bring her back to me.”

    ~~~

    The morning was well underway when Varric strolled into the main hall of Skyhold, Bianca slung casually over his back. He hadn’t been able to find Ariana anywhere in the usual spots—the tavern, the war room, the battlements. After his conversation with Hawke a few days ago, he was ready to start setting their apology plan in motion, but that required finding Ariana first.

    “Where the hell is she?” he muttered to himself as he walked the battlements toward the tower where a soldier had told him he could find Cullen. If anyone kept more tabs on Ariana than he did, it was Cullen. That man was nothing if not thorough where Ariana was concerned.

    The door to the tower was partially ajar, and Varric stepped inside finding Cullen poring over a pile of reports already stacked on the desk. The makeshift office was still sparse, but it was clear Ariana’s hand had been at work—bookshelves had been dusted, the desk cleaned and organized, and a few personal touches added. Cullen didn’t look up at first, so Varric cleared his throat.

    “Commander,” he said, his tone light but carrying just enough weight to grab Cullen’s attention. “You got a minute?”

    Cullen glanced up, surprised but not unwelcoming. “Varric. What can I do for you?”

    “I’m looking for Ariana,” Varric said, stepping further into the room. “Figured she might be with you or at least within shouting distance.”

    Cullen’s brow furrowed slightly, and he leaned back in his chair. “She left this morning,” he said, his tone carrying a hint of confusion. “For the Fallow Mire. She won’t be back for a couple of weeks.”

    Varric froze, the words hitting him harder than he expected. “She left?” he repeated, his voice quieter now. “And didn’t tell me?”

    Cullen studied him for a moment, the tension in Varric’s expression clear. “She decided it yesterday,” he said cautiously. “She has to go rescue a group of soldiers being held hostage by some Avvar demanding to meet the ‘Herald of Andraste’… did she not tell you?”

    “No,” Varric muttered, his shoulders slumping slightly. He glanced at the ground, his mind racing. She didn’t even bother to tell me she was leaving. Damn it, I really screwed this up.

    Cullen seemed to pick up on his turmoil, and his tone softened. “She’s hurt, Varric. But she just needs time.”

    “Time, huh?” Varric said bitterly, his gaze still fixed on the floor. “Doesn’t feel like time’s gonna fix this.”

    Cullen stood, walking around the desk to stand closer. “She’s not angry because of what you did, Varric. She’s hurt because she doesn’t understand why. Ariana trusts you—trusted you more than anyone else in her life. And when you didn’t trust her in return, it made her question everything.”

    Varric looked up, meeting Cullen’s steady gaze. “You think she’ll forgive me?”

    Cullen’s expression softened further, his voice carrying a quiet certainty. “I know she will. She needs you, Varric. But you have to earn back her trust. Do whatever it takes.”

    Varric nodded slowly, the weight of Cullen’s words settling over him. “Thanks, Commander,” he said quietly. “And for the record, I know I’ve got my work cut out for me.”

    Cullen gave him a faint smile, clapping him once on the shoulder before returning to his desk. Varric turned to leave, his mind already thinking back to how to adjust the plan him and Hawke had come up with as descended the tower steps.

    Varric found Hawke in one of the tavern, lounging on a chair with a book in hand. She glanced up as he entered, a knowing smirk spreading across her face. “Judging by the look on your face, you finally figured out what ‘mad as a hornet’ really means.”

    “She didn’t tell me she was leaving,” Varric said bluntly, leaning against the doorframe.

    Hawke’s smirk faltered slightly. “She mentioned it last night. When we were playing cards.”

    “She told you?” Varric asked, his voice rising slightly with incredulity.

    “She mentioned it offhand,” Hawke replied, shrugging. “Something about leaving for the Mire at first light. I assumed you knew.”

    “Well, I didn’t,” Varric muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. “She didn’t even bother to tell me. Guess that says a lot.”

    Hawke closed the book, leaning forward with a serious expression. “It says she’s hurt, Varric. But you already knew that. What matters now is what you’re going to do about it.”

    “Well, I might need to adjust our plan a bit,” Varric said, though his voice lacked its usual confidence. “Working on the apology. You know, the whole grand gesture thing.”

    Hawke’s brows lifted slightly. “And?”

    “And it’s a work in progress,” Varric admitted. “I was hoping to give her something today. A first step.”

    “Well, now you’ve got time,” Hawke said firmly. “She’s gone for at least a couple of weeks. Use it. Get the apology perfect. And don’t come back to me until you’ve got a draft ready for review.”

    Varric sighed, though he couldn’t help the faint smile tugging at his lips. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

    Hawke grinned, leaning back in her chair. “What can I say? You’ve got a lot to make up for, and I happen to enjoy watching you squirm. Now get to work.”

    Shaking his head but unable to suppress a chuckle, Varric turned to leave. “Alright, Hawke. I’ll be back with something before the day’s out.”

    “Good,” Hawke called after him. “And Varric? Make it count.”