Lost Figment

Tag: Ariana Trevelyan

  • Chapter 32 – The Qunari Uprising

    20 Drakonis 9:34

    Ariana’s heart raced as she navigated the streets of Hightown, the weight of the chaos pressing down on her. The screams, the clash of steel, the guttural shouts of the Qunari—it was a cacophony of destruction that seemed endless. But in the midst of the turmoil, her focus remained razor-sharp. Find survivors. Avoid the main force. And Cullen… She pushed the thought aside for now. Worry wouldn’t help. Don’t think, Ariana. Act. Krieger’s words as steadfast as ever in her mind. He wasn’t wrong.

    As she moved, she kept to the shadows, dispatching lone Qunari when necessary but avoiding larger groups. Her daggers flashed in the dim light, precise and efficient. She had to conserve her strength—there were too many of them to take head-on. In the distance, she saw a large force moving toward Viscount’s Keep, their disciplined march unmistakable even in the chaos. The sight made her blood run cold. They’re making a play for the city’s heart.

    She pressed on, descending toward Lowtown, where the chaos seemed to thrum like a living beast. The narrow alleys and crowded streets were a dangerous labyrinth, but Ariana knew them well. As she rounded a corner, she caught sight of Valentina ahead, flanked by a small group of the most proficient recruits. Relief washed over her as she approached them.

    “Wolf,” Valentina greeted, her voice calm but tense despite the chaos. “We were on our way to find you.”

    “Good,” Ariana replied briskly, her eyes scanning the group. “Where are the others?”

    “The newest recruits are holding position at the warehouse,” Linnea’s voice answered from above, as she dropped down from a nearby rooftop with Lamberto close behind.

    Ariana nodded, wasting no time. “I need to know where the Qunari are concentrating their forces and where we can make the most impact,” she said quickly, her tone leaving no room for argument. “Avoid detection, save what innocents you can but… we still need to stick to the shadows as best as possible.”

    Linnea hesitated, her expression flickering with frustration. “We should have seen this coming. I should have seen it. I thought we had more time—”

    “We all did,” Ariana cut her off gently but firmly. “There’s no point dwelling on what we missed. We act now.”

    Linnea nodded, her jaw tightening as she pushed the guilt aside. “Understood.”

    “Relay a message to Hawke,” Ariana continued, turning to her. “The Qunari are marching on the Viscount’s Keep. She needs to know immediately.”

    Lamberto frowned. “The Keep? Are they after the Viscount?”

    “Probably a good guess,” Ariana replied curtly. Then, softening slightly, she turned to Valentina. “Find Cullen. Confirm he’s safe, but do not engage unless he’s overwhelmed. If you see no other choice, help him, but do not draw attention.”

    The Rangers acknowledged her commands with a unified, “Understood, Wolf,” before melting into the chaos like shadows.

    Ariana took a steadying breath and pressed on toward Lowtown. The carnage was no less intense here, but she moved with purpose, rescuing whoever she could while staying clear of large Qunari groups. Her daggers worked quickly, cutting through binds to free captives and holding off the occasional skirmish.

    Her heart skipped a beat when she spotted familiar figures in the distance—Hawke, Varric, Merrill, and Anders, their weapons drawn and faces set with determination. Relief flickered through her as she ran to meet them, calling out over the din.

    “Hawke!” she shouted.

    Hawke turned, her blade glinting in the dim light, and nodded sharply. “Ariana.”

    They closed the distance quickly, Hawke’s voice sharp and businesslike. “The Qunari are staging a full-scale assault.”

    “I know,” Ariana replied, her voice tight. “They were moving toward the Viscount’s Keep. Their numbers are significant.”

    Varric, his crossbow cocked and ready, gave her a grim look. “Then you know things are getting worse by the second. The guard’s scattered, and the Templars aren’t exactly swarming to help.”

    “Anders, Merrill, and I have been focusing on evacuating the streets,” Hawke added, wiping sweat from her brow. “But we need to regroup. If they’re targeting the Keep, they’re making a play for control of the city.”

    Ariana’s mind raced, her thoughts flickering between the Keep, the Rangers, and the Gallows. Cullen… But now wasn’t the time to let her mind wander. She turned her attention back to Hawke. “We need a coordinated effort,” she said, scanning the group. “Where do you need me?”

    Hawke paused, considering for only a moment before gesturing toward the docks. “We’ve heard reports of skirmishes there. It’s close to your Rangers’ warehouse. If the Qunari get a foothold there, they’ll control all incoming supplies.”

    Ariana nodded sharply. “Understood.”

    She exchanged a quick glance with Varric, who gave her a nod of encouragement, and then turned to make her way toward the docks. The battle wasn’t over—not by a long shot—and Ariana knew the decisions they made in the next few hours could determine the fate of Kirkwall.

    ~~~

    Hawke smirked, brushing the dirt from her gloves turning to Ariana before leaving. “And if the White Wolf and her Rangers don’t mind handling the rest of the city, then we’ll make our way to Hightown.”

    Ariana raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a dry smile. “Oh, just save the rest of the city, then? Simple enough.” She shook her head but gave Hawke a knowing glance. “Leave it to us.”

    As they prepared to part ways, Ariana turned back one last time. “Oh, and Hawke, Varric… don’t go dying on me. I’ll pull you back from the Fade and kill you myself if you do.”

    Varric chuckled, a rare flicker of lightness in the dire moment. “Don’t worry, Pup. I’ve survived worse.”

    Ariana watched as the group disappeared into the chaos before turning her focus back to the task at hand. She pulled the horn from her belt and sounded it—a distinct, sharp call designed to rally Rangers in the area. The sharp, resonant tone echoed through the narrow streets, cutting through the noise of battle like a beacon. But she knew the risk: the sound could draw not just allies, but Qunari as well.

    Her hand stayed on her weapon, her sharp eyes scanning the surrounding streets. Soon enough, Rangers began to converge on her position, moving efficiently through the alleys and shadows of Lowtown. Ariana gave quick, clear orders, dividing them into squads to secure key areas and evacuate civilians.

    As she moved toward the Alienage, Lamberto and his squad fell into step with her, their presence a reassuring weight at her side. Together, they swept the area, engaging pockets of Qunari and ensuring the safety of the residents. The fighting was brutal but swift; the Rangers moved with the discipline of seasoned warriors, cutting through the chaos with precision.

    Just as they were finishing up, Valentina approached, her face pale but her voice steady. “Wolf, Knight-Captain Cullen is at the docks. He and a small force of Templars are holding the position, trying to keep the Qunari from advancing toward the Gallows. But…” She hesitated, her eyes flicking to Ariana’s for permission to continue. “They won’t last much longer.”

    Ariana’s chest tightened, her mind racing through the implications. Cullen… Maker, what would I do if I lost him now? The thought threatened to paralyze her, but she shoved it down, focusing instead on the task before her. “Valentina, Lamberto, with me. Linnea, take the remaining Rangers and keep scouting,” she ordered, her voice firm. “Save as many innocents as you can. I will handle the docks.”

    Linnea hesitated, her expression flickering with concern. “What are you going to do?” she asked, her voice low, wondering if Ariana was prepared to expose the White Wolf to Cullen.

    “We’re going to make sure the Qunari don’t overwhelm them and take the Gallows,” Ariana replied sharply. “The city will be lost if they do.”

    Linnea opened her mouth as if to protest, but thought better of it. She straightened and saluted crisply. “By your order, Wolf,” she said before disappearing back into the shadows with the remaining Rangers.

    Without another word, Ariana led Valentina and Lamberto through the winding streets of Lowtown, her steps quick and purposeful. As they neared the docks, she motioned for her companions to split off and flank the enemy forces, positioning themselves on either side of the battlefield.

    Ambushes aren’t won from the ground.

    Ariana leapt onto the nearest rooftop, her movements swift and deliberate. From this vantage point, she could see everything—the Qunari pressing against the Templars’ crumbling line, the chaos of battle threatening to spill further into the city. Her eyes fixed on Cullen at the center, his sword rising and falling in a blur of steel. He was holding the line, barely. Her pulse quickened. Hold on, Cullen. Just hold on.

    Suddenly, she saw a group of Qunari breaking toward Cullen’s position while he was already engaged in another fight. Don’t hesitate. Hesitation is death. With a controlled breath, she dropped silently into the fray, her blades flashing. Her first target fell in seconds, her blade slicing across his throat before his axe could drop. The second lunged, and she sidestepped smoothly, her twin daggers plunging into his side in one fluid motion. The third swung a heavy blade; she ducked beneath it, rolling behind him and driving her blade into his exposed back.

    She felt Cullen’s eyes on her as she moved, a flicker of recognition in his gaze. Their eyes locked for a brief second, and the weight of his unspoken questions pressed against her. If he knew, what would he say? Could he ever understand? But now wasn’t the time to dwell. He turned back to the fight, his movements more decisive, as though her presence had bolstered him.

    “Behind you!” Cullen’s voice rang out, sharp and commanding.

    Don’t think, Ariana. Act.

    Ariana spun, her daggers catching the Qunari mid-strike. The force of the blow rattled her arms, but she pushed through, sidestepping to deliver a swift counter that sent her opponent crumpling to the ground. She glanced back at Cullen, nodding her thanks before falling into rhythm with him, their strikes synchronizing effortlessly. They moved as if they had always fought together, her speed complementing his strength.

    Focus, Ariana.

    The fight surged on, the Qunari relentless, their brutal force threatening to overwhelm the defense. Ariana stayed in motion, her strikes swift and precise.

    Lamberto’s voice cut through the din. “Templars! Hold the line! Push them back away from the docks!”

    The Templars rallied, their efforts renewed by the Rangers’ intervention. But the Qunari pressed harder, determined to break through. Ariana’s blades flashed as she wove through the chaos, intercepting enemies wherever the line threatened to falter. She could feel the strain in her muscles, the burn of exertion, but she couldn’t stop. Not now.

    You don’t fight to survive, Ariana. You fight to win.

    Then she felt it. A shift in the weight behind her, too quick to fully react. The sharp, cold bite of steel pierced through her side, the force of the Qunari’s blade driving her forward. Her breath caught, the pain radiating like fire as she stumbled, barely managing to stay upright.

    What’s the point of speed if you can’t predict your enemy’s next move?

    The reprimand seared through her thoughts as she gritted her teeth, forcing herself to twist sharply and drive her dagger into the Qunari’s neck. He fell, his weapon still embedded in her side, but she refused to falter. Her hand brushed the wound briefly, her fingers coming away slick with blood.

    You’re too important to lose the thought of Krieger’s voice for the first time was soft, almost regretful.

    No one noticed. Cullen had turned to rally the Templars, his focus on regrouping their forces. Ariana bit down on the pain, removing the weapon from her side, forcing her steps to remain steady. The blood soaking her cloak and armor was indistinguishable from the surrounding carnage, and her movements gave no sign of weakness. She couldn’t afford for anyone to see, to ask questions. She had to keep moving. She was the White Wolf, and she had to endure.

    The battle pressed on, but the tide was beginning to turn. The Rangers and Templars fought as one, driving the Qunari back step by step. Ariana moved with them, her blades carving a path through the chaos, her focus unyielding.

    For now, the line held. That was all that mattered.

    ~~~

    Cullen’s arm burned with fatigue as he raised his blade again, his shield battered from repeated blows. It felt like hours since the battle had begun, and the relentless tide of Qunari showed no sign of stopping. He gritted his teeth, the thought of retreat flickering in his mind. But retreat meant giving up the docks, and the Gallows—and the city. No, it all depended on this position holding, there was no retreat. His thoughts shifted to Hightown, to Ariana. Maker, let her be safe.

    He barely had time to process the image of her face before a hulking Qunari charged him head-on. Cullen braced himself, lifting his shield, when a flicker of movement on his left caught his attention. Another Qunari was closing in from the side, weapon raised high. Too late.

    A shadow dropped between him and the attacker, moving with deadly precision. A cloaked figure landed with lethal grace, steel flashing in the moonlight. The first Qunari’s advance was cut short as the figure’s blade struck true, dropping him in a single, precise movement. The second swung wildly, but the figure sidestepped with ease, delivering a swift counterstrike that sent him crumpling to the ground.

    Cullen blinked, trying to process the scene. The cloaked figure—wearing a white fur-trimmed cloak, a mask concealing the lower half of their face—moved like liquid fire. Their strikes were deliberate, calculated, and brutal. More Qunari rushed forward, but the figure intercepted, weaving through the chaos with practiced ease.

    “Behind you!” Cullen shouted as another Qunari advanced, blade aimed for the figure’s back.

    The figure didn’t hesitate. Pivoting on their heel, they parried the incoming strike and turned it into a fluid counterattack that left their opponent on the ground. They glanced back briefly, their masked face unreadable, they nodded their thanks before returning to the fray.

    Cullen snapped out of his daze, raising his own blade to engage the Qunari pressing in on his side. Whatever else was happening, there was no time to question it now. He moved closer to the cloaked figure, his instincts guiding him to their side. Without a word exchanged, they fell into a rhythm, fighting back-to-back against the Qunari horde.

    Suddenly, another figure joined the fray, calling out with a commanding voice. “Templars! Hold the line! Push them back!” It was a man in dark armor—Cullen vaguely recognized him as one of the figures he had seen arrive on the docks a few months back when he first saw the White Wolf.

    The Templars rallied at the call, bolstered by the arrival of reinforcements. The Rangers moved with brutal efficiency, their attacks coordinated and precise. Cullen couldn’t help but notice how the cloaked figure directed the fight with subtle gestures—motions that the others responded to without hesitation. Whoever this White Wolf was, they commanded the battlefield.

    Finally, the last of the attackers fell. Silence descended over the docks, broken only by the sound of heavy breathing and the distant echoes of battle from other parts of the city. Cullen turned, lowering his weapon, his eyes narrowing as they fixed on the cloaked figure. He’d heard stories, whispers about the White Wolf, but to see them here again—and fighting with such ruthless efficiency—was something else entirely.

    “You’re the White Wolf,” Cullen said, his voice low but tinged with disbelief. “What are you doing here?”

    The figure froze for a moment before Valentina stepped forward, her expression composed but unreadable. “The White Wolf fights where the people need them,” she said smoothly, her tone neutral. “Tonight, you needed them.”

    Cullen’s eyes flicked back to the cloaked figure, frustration simmering beneath the surface. “Why are you in Kirkwall?” he demanded, his tone sharp.

    The figure gave no reply. Instead, they raised a gloved hand, gesturing toward the fallen Qunari as if to say, Your city is still standing because of us. With deliberate care, they inclined their head in a slight, deliberate bow. The meaning was clear: You’re welcome.

    Before Cullen could respond, the figure turned and disappeared into the shadows, their white cloak vanishing into the night.

    Cullen stepped forward instinctively, but Lamberto and Valentina moved to block his path, their postures firm but not overtly hostile. “That’s far enough, Knight-Captain,” Lamberto said evenly.

    “I have questions,” Cullen pressed, his frustration bleeding into his voice. “Kirkwall isn’t a battlefield for mercenaries to play hero.”

    Valentina’s eyes hardened slightly. “The White Wolf isn’t here to asnwer your questions and they aren’t playing, neither are we. We saved your position. Perhaps you should focus on keeping it.”

    Cullen’s gaze flicked to her, recognition dawning. “I’ve seen you before. At the docks. Weren’t you supposed to be in Starkhaven?”

    Valentina smirked faintly. “Who says we weren’t. Maybe we were just leaving when the chaos broke out.”

    Cullen’s brows furrowed, his frustration mounting. “If you’re truly with the Crows, then why do you answer to the White Wolf?”

    Her smirk widened slightly, but her eyes remained unreadable. “You think you know everything about us?”

    Before Cullen could retort, the other Templars began to gather around, their exhaustion giving way to murmurs of awe. “The White Wolf,” one of them whispered, eyes wide. “They saved us.”

    “Andraste’s grace, did you see them fight?” another added. “Like something out of the stories.”

    Cullen’s grip tightened on his blade, the praise grating against his nerves. “Back to your posts,” he ordered sharply. “The docks still need defending.”

    As the Templars dispersed, Cullen turned back to Lamberto and Valentina. “This isn’t over.”

    Lamberto smirked faintly. “It never is.”

    Without another word, the two Rangers melted into the shadows, leaving Cullen standing alone amidst the wreckage of the battlefield. His thoughts churned as he scanned the darkened alleys, frustration warring with a begrudging sense of respect. The White Wolf… The name echoed in his mind, heavy with unanswered questions.

    For now, those questions would have to wait. His priority was clear. He needed to find Ariana and make sure she was safe. Letting out a steadying breath, he turned and began making his way toward Hightown, the memory of the White Wolf’s silent, calculating movements etched into his mind.

    ~~~

    Cullen’s thoughts churned with equal parts frustration and urgency. The battle had drained him, but the memory of Ariana’s face kept him moving. She had been on his mind through every strike, every parry. She wasn’t trained for this—or was she? The thought lingered, unbidden. He found himself reminded of that day on the Wounded Coast, the slavers that had ambushed them, and the way she had cut through them with lethal efficiency. He hadn’t expected that—not from her. He had known she was capable, but the precision and ruthlessness she displayed that day hinted at a far deeper training than he’d understood.

    Even so, the memory offered little comfort. A few slavers in the wilderness were a far cry from the organized fury of the Qunari. He couldn’t shake the nagging fear that she might overestimate herself, or worse, underestimate the sheer brutality of her enemy.

    The image of her estate flashed in his mind—the warm halls, the steadfast presence of Isabel and Emma. He clung to that thought like a lifeline, hoping against hope that the battle hadn’t reached that far yet. The idea of something happening to her—or to any of them—pushed him forward, his pace quickening.

    The White Wolf… The name echoed in his thoughts as his boots struck against the cobblestones. The rumors surrounding this enigmatic figure had spread across Kirkwall, equal parts alarming and intriguing. They fought with the precision of someone who had seen years of battle, someone unflinching in the face of chaos. Yet… there was something unsettlingly familiar about the way they moved, the way they carried themselves. He couldn’t place it, but none of that mattered now.

    All he cared about was Ariana. He had to make sure she was safe, that nothing in this chaos had reached her. He needed to see her, to hold her, to know for certain she was all right.

    As Cullen passed through Lowtown, the remnants of the Qunari assault were everywhere. Bodies littered the streets—Templars, Qunari, and civilians alike. Smoke curled into the night sky, its acrid scent stinging his nostrils. The air was heavy with death and the muffled cries of those tending to the wounded. He forced himself to keep moving, his boots splashing through shallow puddles of blood as he climbed the stairs toward Hightown.

    The higher he climbed, the quieter the streets became, though the tension in the air was palpable. Hightown was far from untouched—broken glass and splintered wood scattered the pristine stone streets, signs of the battle that had reached even here. A few city guards lingered, dragging debris to clear paths, but they seemed as lost as anyone else.

    Cullen’s heart pounded as he turned the final corner, the familiar silhouette of Ariana’s estate coming into view. The grand stone walls stood tall, the windows glowing faintly with the warm light of the hearths inside. Relief washed over him, though it didn’t fully quell the anxiety gnawing at his chest.

    He quickened his pace, stepping up to the door and knocking firmly. For a moment, there was no response, and the silence only fueled his unease. Then, the sound of hurried footsteps reached his ears, followed by the door creaking open to reveal Isabel.

    “Cullen,” she said, her voice a mixture of relief and surprise. “You’re alive.”

    “I could say the same for you,” Cullen replied, his eyes scanning the entryway behind her. “Ariana—”

    “She’s fine,” Isabel interrupted, stepping aside to let him in. “But she’s not here.”

    Cullen’s brows furrowed, his heart sinking. “Not here? Where is she?”

    Isabel hesitated, glancing toward the stairs. “She went out earlier… She was looking for our staff that weren’t home. She would have headed for the Alienage most likely, but she hasn’t returned yet.”

    Cullen’s fists clenched at his sides, his thoughts racing. “She’s out there? Alone? Does she realize what’s happening in the city?”

    “She knows,” Isabel said, her voice firm. “But you know Ariana—she’s not one to sit idly by when people need her.”

    Cullen’s frustration flared, but he tamped it down. Maker save me, does she have to be so stubborn? “Did she say where she was going after the Alienage?”

    Isabel shook her head. “No. Just that she’d be back as soon as she could.”

    Cullen exhaled sharply, his mind already calculating his next move. “If she comes back, keep her here. Don’t let her leave again.”

    “And where will you be?” Isabel asked, crossing her arms.

    “Finding her,” Cullen replied simply, stepping back toward the door. “She shouldn’t be out there.”

    “She’s not helpless, Cullen,” Isabel called after him. “You give her too little credit.”

    He paused, turning back to face her. “She’s not helpless, but she’s not invincible either. Neither am I. Someone else just saved me from being overrun.” he hated having to admit that, but it was the truth. And if he and his Templars had needed saving, what chance did Ariana have alone.

    Isabel’s expression shifted to confusion, though her concern remained clear. Before she could respond, Cullen turned and stepped out into the night again, the heavy weight of uncertainty pressing down on him. His heart tugged in two directions—toward the search for Ariana and the responsibilities pulling him back to the Gallows. But for now, one thought overpowered the rest: Find her.

    The battle had ended at the docks, but Cullen knew the night was far from over. However, despite his distrust for mercenaries, for better or worse he knew that there appeared to be Silver Rangers currently defending the city. To what end he didn’t know, but it didn’t matter now. All that mattered was finding her.

    ~~~

    Ariana slipped into the warehouse, her steps measured, her breaths shallow as the adrenaline of the battle ebbed, leaving a gnawing ache in its place. The dim light inside cast long shadows over the Rangers gathered there, their faces a mix of exhaustion and relief. She pulled off her blood-soaked cloak and discarded it without ceremony, along with her gloves and weapons—each piece a symbol of the White Wolf she could no longer afford to be in this moment.

    Linnea’s sharp eyes immediately caught the dark stain spreading across Ariana’s side. “Wolf, you’re hurt,” she said, stepping toward her, her tone more commanding than concerned.

    “It’s nothing,” Ariana replied quickly, her voice steady but quieter than usual. She unwound the sash from her waist with a practiced motion, pressing it tightly against her side as a makeshift bandage to stem the bleeding. She tied it off with a wince, her movements efficient despite the sharp sting that flared with each motion.

    But as the adrenaline faded further, a deeper pain began to settle in, sharper and more insistent with every breath. She leaned briefly against the edge of the nearest table, her free hand pressing against her side. A sharp, stabbing sensation spread from her ribs, stealing the breath from her lungs. She clenched her jaw, forcing herself to straighten, but the movement sent another spike of pain radiating through her torso.

    Her mind raced, piecing it together. The blade had run her through cleanly, but the force of the strike—it must have cracked or broken her ribs. She exhaled slowly, trying to manage her breathing, but even that came in shallow, halting gasps.

    Linnea’s frown deepened as she stepped closer, her gaze fixed on the growing crimson against the fabric. “That doesn’t make it nothing,” she said, her tone sharper now.

    “I’ve had worse,” Ariana said, brushing past her with a dismissive wave, though her hand instinctively tightened against her ribs, her fingers trembling slightly. Each step sent jolts of pain coursing through her side, her body betraying the injury she was determined to hide. She couldn’t afford weakness. Not here, not now.

    But as she moved deeper into the warehouse, the realization settled heavily in her mind: she wasn’t just bleeding. The fight had left her more broken than she’d thought. And if she didn’t find a way to manage it soon, her strength wouldn’t hold out much longer.

    Linnea frowned, her gaze fixed on the spreading crimson against the fabric. “That doesn’t make it nothing.”

    Her hazel-green eyes scanned the room, taking stock of the Rangers, ignoring Linnea’s protest. “We need to take stock first. Is everyone accounted for? Any casualties?”

    Valentina stepped forward, her expression both respectful and worried. “Everyone’s back. No losses, just a few minor injuries.”

    Relief flickered across Ariana’s face, but she refused to let it linger. “Good. That’s what matters.”

    Linnea crossed her arms, her expression hardening as she followed Ariana’s movements. “And what about you? You’re bleeding all over the floor.”

    Ariana stepped toward the map table, but the motion sent a sharp jolt of pain through her ribs, sharper than before. Her breath hitched, and she felt an oppressive tightness settling in her chest. She clenched her jaw, forcing her posture to remain steady. “I’ll deal with it later. Right now, I need to get back to Hightown.”

    Valentina and Lamberto exchanged concerned glances, and Valentina stepped closer, her voice firm but hesitant. “Wolf, you’re in no condition to go anywhere right now. Let us—”

    “No.” Ariana’s voice cut through the room like a blade. She turned to face them, her expression firm despite the pallor creeping into her features. Her stance was authoritative, a leader unwilling to entertain further argument. “Cullen might already be looking for me. If he finds me here, it’s over. For all of us.”

    Valentina opened her mouth to argue, but Ariana silenced her with a raised hand, her tone softening slightly. “I’ve discarded the cloak, gloves, and my weapons. He won’t recognize me. It’ll be fine.” Her eyes swept over the group, the faintest hint of gratitude breaking through her exhaustion. “You’ve done enough tonight. Rest. Regroup. And keep to the shadows.”

    She moved toward the door, her steps careful but deliberate. Every movement was a reminder of the wound she couldn’t afford to dwell on, but her focus was already ahead—on the estate, on getting back before Cullen realized she had been out.

    The Rangers watched in tense silence as she left, Valentina’s hand twitching as if to reach for her, but ultimately staying at her side. Linnea muttered something under her breath, though she didn’t move to stop Ariana either.

    The cold night air hit Ariana like a wall as she stepped outside. Each step toward Hightown felt heavier than the last, the pain a constant companion beneath the makeshift bandage. Her mind raced, each thought tangled with the next. Just get home. Just make it back before anyone sees.

    But as she disappeared into the shadows, one thought pressed harder than the rest: How long can I keep this up?

    ~~~

    Ariana moved swiftly through the streets, her breath coming in short, sharp bursts. Each step sent a jolt of pain through her side, her makeshift bandage doing little to stem the bleeding. The wound throbbed relentlessly, her ribs protesting every movement, but she forced herself onward. Her discarded cloak and gloves back at the warehouse left her in plain armor, dirtied and bloodstained, blending her into the aftermath of the battle. To any casual observer, she was just another survivor staggering home.

    As she neared the stairs towards Hightown, the faint echoes of chaos from Lowtown lingered in the distance, a reminder that the city’s respite was temporary at best. Ariana’s focus was singular: get home before Cullen returns. He couldn’t find her like this—not bloodied, wounded, and barely holding herself together. Not now. Not ever.

    She rounded a corner, her heart stuttering as she saw a familiar figure ahead. Relief warred with dread. Cullen. His armor was battered, his sword sheathed at his side, but his determined stride betrayed no sign of exhaustion. She had hoped to avoid him, to slip into the estate unnoticed, but it was too late. He hadn’t seen her yet.

    “Cullen,” she called, forcing her voice to sound steadier than she felt.

    His head snapped toward her, his sharp gaze locking onto her. Relief flashed across his face, quickly replaced by frustration as he closed the distance between them. “Ariana! What were you thinking, being out here alone?”

    “I wasn’t alone,” she countered, her tone defensive, though her voice wavered slightly. She forced herself to stand straighter, every movement deliberate to hide her pain. “I was looking for our staff. Some of them were out in the Alienage when this started. I couldn’t leave them.”

    Cullen exhaled sharply, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “Did you find them?”

    “I did,” she said with a small nod. “Most of them. The ones I could.”

    Before she could say more, he reached out and pulled her into a tight embrace. The sudden pressure against her ribs sent a sharp, searing pain shooting through her chest. She bit down a gasp, but the flinch was unavoidable, her body stiffening in his arms.

    Cullen immediately stepped back, concern replacing his frustration. “You’re hurt.”

    “It’s nothing,” she said quickly, shaking her head. “Broken ribs, maybe. Breathing hurts, but I’m fine.”

    His eyes narrowed, his gaze sweeping over her with the same precision he brought to combat. “Broken ribs aren’t nothing,” he muttered, his tone edged with frustration. His gaze dropped lower, catching the dark stain seeping through her armor at her side. The blood stood out against the dirt and grime, vivid and damning. His heart sank.

    “Ariana.” His voice was low, almost disbelieving, as he gently took hold of her wrist and moved her hand away. The blood soaked through the makeshift bandage and continued to flow, pooling against the leather. “You’re bleeding.”

    “It’s—” she started, her voice faltering as she caught sight of the extent of the wound. She swallowed hard, her deflection failing her at last. “Alright… perhaps not nothing.”

    Her knees buckled as the words left her lips, her strength finally giving out. Cullen moved instinctively, catching her before she could hit the ground. Her weight sagged against him, her head resting briefly on his chest as her eyes fluttered shut. “Ariana! Stay with me,” he urged, his voice tight with panic.

    He shifted, lifting her into his arms with practiced ease. Her head leaned slightly against his shoulder. His jaw tightened, his mind racing. “Hold on,” he murmured, his voice both a plea and a command. “I’m taking you to the Circle.”

    She stirred weakly, her fingers grasping at his collar. “No… the Circle,” she mumbled, her voice barely audible. “I can’t… go there.”

    “You can,” Cullen said firmly, his arms tightening around her as he lifted her effortlessly. “And you will. You need a healer, Ariana. Don’t argue with me now.”

    Her protests faded into incoherence, the last of her strength slipping away. Cullen’s jaw tightened as he adjusted his hold, his strides quickening. The looming spires of the Gallows came into view, their oppressive shadow a stark reminder of what awaited them both. But in this moment, the fear of what might come later paled in comparison to the fear gripping his heart now.

    Her head rested against his shoulder, her blood staining his armor. Every step felt heavier, every breath of hers he couldn’t hear tightening the knot in his chest. His prayers were silent but fervent: Maker, let her live. Let her fight another day.

    The battle at the docks had ended, but for Cullen, the night’s true fight had just begun.

  • Chapter 31 – The Battle to Come

    14 Wintermarch – 20 Drakonis 9:34

    Over the next few months, Valentina, Lamberto, and Linnea executed their roles with precision and care. Recruiting, training, and gathering information became the lifeblood of the Rangers’ operations, each task carried out in the shadows of Kirkwall’s chaotic streets. Their new base, the warehouse near the docks, provided the perfect cover—a fortress hidden in plain sight.

    Ariana’s voice echoed through the warehouse during one of their first meetings, her tone firm but calm. “If you are caught,” she told the gathered recruits, her gaze sweeping across their faces, “you’re not Rangers. You’re free agents working for yourselves. No one here will acknowledge you.”

    There were murmurs of agreement, though unease lingered in the air. To Ariana, it was essential to strike a balance between pragmatism and reassurance. “That said,” she continued, her voice softening, “I promise you this: if you ever get into trouble, I will come for you. Hawke will come for you. We won’t leave you behind.”

    The tension eased slightly, though the weight of the task ahead was evident in their expressions.

    She paced slowly, her boots clicking against the warehouse floor. “No heroics, ever,” she added, her tone sharpening again. “It is hard—I know it is—to see someone dragged off in chains. But we cannot openly oppose the Templars. Not yet. We have to be smarter, or we lose everything.”

    The recruits nodded, though Ariana could see the conflict in their eyes. They had sworn their loyalty to her, to the Rangers’ mission, but loyalty didn’t make the task any easier. For some, the restraint she demanded felt like a betrayal of the cause they had signed up for. For others, it was a sobering reminder of the dangers they faced.

    Hawke and Varric had been invaluable in connecting the Rangers to the Mage Underground. Through them, Ariana had gained access to hidden networks and crucial contacts—people who had spent years working in secrecy to protect mages from the Templars’ reach. Trust came slowly, but with Hawke’s reputation and Varric’s silver tongue, introductions were made, and the groundwork was laid.

    Still, Hawke couldn’t help but voice her frustrations one evening at the Hanged Man. “We’re dancing around the problem, Ariana,” she said, leaning across the table. “The mages need more than whispers and hiding places. They need to be saved.”

    Ariana sighed, nursing her drink. “You think I don’t want to save them all? But we can’t. Not like this.”

    “We could do more,” Hawke pressed. “We should do more.”

    Ariana set her glass down, her gaze meeting Hawke’s directly. “What would you have us do, Hawke? Break into the Gallows and free all the mages? Are you prepared for that? Are they prepared for that?”

    Hawke hesitated, her jaw tightening. “If it comes to that… yes.”

    Valentina, seated nearby, raised a skeptical brow. “And then what? Meredith will hunt every last one of them down. The mages, us, anyone who so much as looks like they helped.”

    “We can’t stop her with a prison break,” Linnea added, her tone calm but firm. “Not without losing everything we’re building here.”

    “So what’s the plan then?” Hawke shot back, frustration bubbling beneath her words. “We just keep sneaking a handful of mages out at a time while Meredith makes more Tranquil every day? How long before there’s no one left to save?”

    Ariana exhaled, leaning back in her chair. “We don’t have the numbers yet. Not for a full-scale fight. Not for the kind of war you’re talking about.”

    “And we are preparing for that war,” Valentina interjected, her voice steady. “Every recruit, every mage we save, every piece of information we gather—it all leads to the same place. But we can’t rush it.”

    Hawke shook her head, but Varric, who had been quietly nursing his drink, finally spoke up. “She’s right, Hawke. If you want this to work, we have to play the long game. And believe me, I hate waiting as much as the next dwarf, but we don’t have the luxury of charging in crossbows blazing.”

    Hawke’s shoulders sagged slightly, the fight draining from her posture. “I just… I hate this. Watching it happen, knowing we can do more.”

    “So do I,” Ariana said quietly. “But if we fight too soon, we lose. And if it comes to that, if we do need to fight…” She paused, her gaze sweeping across the table, resting on each of them in turn. “The full force of the Silver Rangers will stand with the mages. We’ll fight for them, and for anyone else who cannot fight for themselves.”

    The words settled heavily over the group, a quiet promise that they all understood. The lines had been drawn, even if the battle hadn’t begun yet. For now, their only weapon was patience.

    Varric broke the silence with a wry smile, raising his glass. “Here’s to patience. Not exactly my favorite thing, but it gets the job done.”

    Ariana smirked, lifting her glass. “To patience.”

    The group joined the toast, the clinking of glasses briefly cutting through the somber air. In the distance, the sounds of Lowtown’s chaos echoed faintly, a reminder of the city they were trying to save—one step, one life at a time.

    ~~~

    A few days later, Ariana met Linnea in one of the smaller rooms off the main floor of the warehouse. It was quieter there, away from the hum of training and the murmur of scouts exchanging updates. Ariana leaned against the edge of a battered table, arms crossed, her expression calm but expectant.

    “What do we know about Cullen?” Ariana asked, her voice low but steady. “How much does he seem to know about what’s happening?”

    Linnea shifted her weight, her tone measured as she replied, “As best as I can tell, he’s not directly involved. He hasn’t attended any of the more… questionable raids or interrogations. And the people I’ve spoken to don’t recall seeing him in situations where Tranquility was being administered.”

    Ariana nodded, though her brows furrowed slightly. “But he’s not completely unaware.”

    “No,” Linnea admitted. “From what I’ve pieced together, he knows it’s happening. When it’s reported to him, it’s usually framed as a necessary action—mages too dangerous, too unstable, or caught dabbling in blood magic. He doesn’t seem to question it too much.”

    Ariana’s jaw tightened as she processed the information. It was both a relief and a frustration. Cullen wasn’t actively part of the atrocities, but his acceptance of them—however justified they might seem to him—meant there was little chance of swaying him while he remained under Meredith’s influence.

    “Anything else?” Ariana asked, her voice soft but tinged with an edge.

    Linnea hesitated for a moment before continuing. “There’s something else. Not about Cullen or the Templars, but it could become a bigger problem for us. The Qunari.”

    Ariana straightened, her attention sharpening. “What about them?”

    “There have been more confrontations,” Linnea said, her expression darkening. “Merchants in Lowtown are reporting stolen shipments, sailors are complaining about dock interference, and there have been skirmishes in the alleys near the Qunari compound. It’s not just petty disputes anymore—the Arishok is getting… anxious.”

    Ariana frowned, rubbing her temples as she considered the implications. “Do we know what’s pushing him? Or what he’s waiting for?”

    Linnea shook her head. “Not yet. But he’s been more visible, and his people are growing restless. If something doesn’t change soon, they may decide to force the issue.”

    “Force the issue?” Ariana repeated, her tone skeptical but wary.

    Linnea nodded. “If they’re holding out for something—a solution, a negotiation—and it doesn’t come? They won’t stay passive forever. And if the Arishok loses his patience, it won’t just be the docks that feel it. It’ll be the whole city.”

    Ariana exhaled heavily, the weight of Linnea’s report settling over her. “Do you think they’ll target us?”

    “I don’t think they’ve noticed us,” Linnea replied. “But if Kirkwall descends into chaos, it’ll affect everyone—including us. It’s something to keep an eye on.”

    Ariana nodded slowly, her mind already racing with possibilities. The Qunari were a force she couldn’t afford to underestimate, and if their growing tension turned into action, it could throw everything off balance. The Rangers were barely holding their own against the Templars’ vigilance—another front, especially one as volatile as the Qunari, could be disastrous.

    “Keep me updated,” Ariana said firmly. “I want to know if the situation changes. And see if you can get someone closer to the docks to keep watch.”

    Linnea nodded. “Already done. We’ve got a few people embedded with the merchant caravans, keeping their ears open.”

    “Good,” Ariana said, her expression hardening. “We’ve got enough problems as it is. The last thing we need is a war with the Qunari on top of everything else. I’ll talk to Hawke, see what she knows.”

    As Linnea left to continue her work, Ariana remained in the quiet room, her thoughts heavy. Between Cullen’s precarious position, the Templars’ actions, and now the brewing tension with the Qunari, Kirkwall felt like a city sitting atop a powder keg. And she couldn’t shake the feeling that the spark was coming sooner than any of them were prepared for.

    ~~~

    Ariana’s boots echoed against the polished stone streets of Hightown, the gilded façade of Kirkwall’s wealth a stark contrast to the shadows she had just left behind in Lowtown. Her thoughts churned with Linnea’s warning about the Qunari, a tension simmering in her chest. Whatever the Arishok sought, Ariana suspected it would mean trouble for everyone in the city—mages or not.

    Arriving at Hawke’s estate, she knocked sharply and was ushered inside by the household staff. The warmth of the home, filled with signs of life and personality, was a welcome reprieve from the cold unease in her mind.

    “Well, well, what brings Lady Ariana Trevelyan to my humble estate?” Hawke teased as she appeared at the top of the stairs, descending with an easy, confident grace.

    Ariana couldn’t help but chuckle, the tension momentarily lifting. “Right, yes, it’s very quaint. You should be jealous of mine,” she replied, her sarcasm sharpened by exhaustion.

    “Oh, absolutely. The unmatched splendor of a noblewoman’s estate. How do you even bear it?” Hawke deadpanned, gesturing dramatically.

    Their banter carried them into the sitting room, where Hawke poured two glasses of wine and handed one to Ariana. It was a familiar ritual, one that hinted at the ease of their friendship. Yet, as Ariana swirled the wine in her glass, her focus drifted back to the unease sitting heavy in her chest.

    “What do you know about the Arishok?” she asked, her voice cutting through the warmth of the moment. “I’m hearing rumors he’s looking for something and seems to be getting restless.”

    Hawke’s sigh was long and heavy, her shoulders sinking under the weight of what she knew. “Unfortunately, I know more than I’d like,” she admitted. “If your spymaster is reporting this, it’s worse than I thought. Let me start from the beginning.”

    Ariana leaned forward slightly, her fingers tightening around the stem of her glass as Hawke began to speak.

    “They arrived in 9:31,” Hawke explained, her tone measured. “The Qunari. They came for one reason: a stolen relic called the Tome of Koslun. According to their leader, they can’t return home without it. They’ve been looking for it ever since.”

    Ariana frowned. Four years of waiting in this city, observing its dysfunction, its corruption—what toll had that taken on them? She could see the frustration on Hawke’s face, her usual bravado replaced with a rare seriousness.

    “The Tome,” Ariana repeated softly. “Do we know what it is? Why it’s so important?”

    “Not exactly,” Hawke admitted. “But whatever it is, it’s sacred to them. Without it, they’re stuck here, and Kirkwall is… well, let’s just say it’s not to their taste.”

    Ariana nodded, but her thoughts were already racing. The Qunari’s code, the Qun, demanded discipline and order. Kirkwall was chaos incarnate. How much longer could they endure this city’s rot before something gave?

    “They’ve had their share of grievances here,” Hawke continued, her expression darkening. “I’ve had to step in more than once to keep things from boiling over. There was the matter of saar-qamek, for example.”

    “Saar-qamek?” Ariana asked, unfamiliar with the term.

    “It’s a formula for a poisonous gas,” Hawke clarified, her tone darkening. “The Qunari use it sparingly, as a weapon of war. Someone in Kirkwall stole it thinking it was the formula for gaatlok—an ambitious merchant trying to sell it to the highest bidder. By the time I tracked it down, it was too late. It had already been released in a side alley in Lowtown.”

    Ariana’s eyes widened, a wave of unease washing over her. “It was released? What happened? How many—”

    “Not as many as you’d think,” Hawke interrupted. “But still too many. The Qunari killed the ones responsible, but it was chaos. People choking, dying, and all because someone decided they could profit from selling the Qunari’s weapons.” Hawke’s voice carried a bitter edge as she took a sip of her wine.

    Ariana swallowed hard, her mind reeling with the implications. “I didn’t hear about this.”

    “It happened while you were gone,” Hawke said softly, “It was over quickly, and the city moved on. As it always does. But it was… bad. Really bad.”

    Ariana closed her eyes for a moment, imagining the scene: the narrow, crowded streets of Lowtown filled with people gasping for breath, collapsing as the poisonous mist spread. She felt the weight of her absence keenly, even if it was irrational.

    “And the Qunari?” she asked, her voice tight.

    “They were furious,” Hawke admitted. “But I think they blamed the thieves more than the city itself. At least that’s what I told myself when I gave the formula back to them. They’re… restrained, but only because they’re focused on the Tome. That restraint won’t last forever.”

    Ariana nodded grimly, her thoughts churning. The Qunari had already endured so many provocations—how much more would it take to push them over the edge?

    “Then there was the Qunari delegation,” Hawke continued, her voice growing colder. “A group of Qunari went missing when they were on their way to meet with the Viscount. They were ambushed and killed.”

    Ariana’s breath caught. “By who?”

    “A Templar,” Hawke said grimly. “He bore the Grand Cleric’s seal.”

    Ariana’s jaw clenched. The implications were staggering. “A Templar? And the Qunari know?”

    “They do,” Hawke confirmed. “The Arishok didn’t retaliate, but I could see it in his eyes—he wanted to. I think the only reason he held back was because it wasn’t part of their mission. They’re here for the Tome, and until they have it, they’ll endure.”

    Endure. The word felt like a warning. The Arishok’s restraint was commendable, but Ariana doubted it was limitless.

    “And then there’s Seamus,” Hawke said, taking a long sip of her wine before continuing. “The Viscount’s son. He converted to the Qun not long ago. He believed in what they stood for—order, fairness. It cost him his life.”

    Ariana’s eyes widened. “Seamus was killed because of his beliefs?”

    “Because of Mother Petrice,” Hawke corrected, her voice laced with disdain. “She orchestrated it. A senseless death to stoke hatred against the Qunari. The Viscount is furious, but he’s powerless to do anything. The city is on edge, and the Qunari are angrier than ever.”

    Ariana exhaled slowly, the weight of these revelations pressing down on her. Each piece of the puzzle painted a picture of a city teetering on the edge of chaos. And then Hawke dropped the final blow.

    “There’s one more thing,” she said, her tone resigned. “I know where the Tome of Koslun is. Or rather, was. I know who has it.”

    Ariana leaned forward, her gaze sharp. “Who?”

    Hawke hesitated, then said, “Isabela.”

    Ariana stared at her, disbelief flashing across her face. “Isabela? You’re saying she has the Tome?”

    “She’s the one that stole it,” Hawke admitted, her voice heavy with frustration. “And now she’s gone.”

    “Gone?” Ariana’s voice rose. “You’re saying she took the Tome of Koslun and disappeared? And you’re just telling me this now?”

    “And… I recently helped her acquire a ship,” Hawke replied, ignoring the accusatory tone. “She could be anywhere by now.”

    “This isn’t good, Hawke.” Ariana’s voice was sharp, her mind racing. “You’re telling me we have nothing to offer the Arishok to make him leave?”

    “We don’t,” Hawke said bluntly. “And I didn’t tell you because it had nothing to do with the mages.”

    “And yet it could threaten our entire operation if this city falls to chaos! I don’t think a Qunari invasion is what the Divine had in mind when she asked us to save the mages.” Ariana shot back, standing abruptly and pacing the room. The tension in her chest had hardened into something sharp and unyielding. She turned to Hawke, her voice low and cold. “We’re sitting on a powder keg, Hawke. If the Arishok loses patience, it won’t just be about the their relic anymore.”

    “I know,” Hawke said quietly, her tone lacking its usual defiance.

    Ariana stared at her, frustration and fear warring within her. This wasn’t just another problem to solve. This was a storm, brewing just beyond the horizon, and she had the sinking feeling it was about to break.

    ~~~

    Over those same months, Cullen and Ariana settled into a rhythm of sparring in the mornings, their sessions becoming a steady fixture in Cullen’s week. It was a simple routine: he would arrive at the estate shortly after sunrise, dressed in his training gear, and find Ariana already waiting for him in the courtyard, her twin daggers glinting faintly in the dawn light.

    The first few sessions were straightforward, almost nostalgic. They began with drills—blocks, parries, dodges—much like their training days near Lake Calenhad. Yet as the weeks passed, Cullen couldn’t shake the growing suspicion that she was holding back. Her movements were precise, but her attacks lacked full force. Her speed—while impressive—felt measured, like she was pulling her strikes just short of their true potential.

    Today was no different. Their blades clashed in a swift series of strikes and counters, Ariana’s agility matching Cullen’s strength. She dodged his heavier blows with ease, her footwork almost too fluid, like a dance she’d rehearsed countless times. Yet something about the rhythm felt off.

    “You’re holding back,” Cullen said abruptly, breaking their flow as he stepped back and lowered his blade.

    Ariana arched a brow, wiping a bead of sweat from her temple. “I’m not holding back,” she replied evenly, though there was a flicker of something unreadable in her gaze.

    “You are,” Cullen insisted, his tone firm but not unkind. “You’ve always been faster than me, which doesn’t explain why I’ve landed multiple hits while you’ve barely landed any.”

    Her smirk faded, and for a moment, she said nothing. Then she stepped forward, her blades at her sides. “I’m not pulling my punches,” she said quietly. “Maybe you’re still just better trained than I am. Strength has its advantages, and speed doesn’t win forever.”

    Cullen exhaled sharply, his grip tightening on his sword. “That’s not it, and you know it. I asked you to spar with me because I need a real challenge, not someone pulling their punches.”

    He studied her closely, the tension between them palpable. There was more to her words than she was letting on, and he knew it. She was faster, more precise than anyone he’d sparred with in years, yet she kept losing to him. She was letting him win.

    “Ariana,” Cullen said, his voice softening. “If this is about me—about protecting my pride—don’t. I watched you fight those slavers. The person sparring with me isn’t that person. I want to see what you can really do.”

    Ariana’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, she looked as though she might say something more. But instead, she raised her daggers, her stance shifting back into readiness.

    “Come on, Knight-Captain,” she said, her tone lighter now. “Let’s see if you can keep up.”

    Cullen hesitated for a beat, then raised his sword. They resumed their sparring, but his mind lingered on her earlier response. She was deflecting, hiding something. The realization gnawed at him, though he knew better than to push her too far. Not yet.

    Their session ended with a swift disarm—Ariana’s daggers sent skittering across the courtyard stones as Cullen managed to pin her against the stone wall. His breath came in short bursts, and for a moment, neither of them moved.

    “You’ve improved,” he said, his voice low, almost a whisper. “But you’re still holding back.”

    Ariana smirked, her eyes meeting his. “As are you.”

    He held her for a moment longer and he thought through her words. Was he holding back as well? He was winning their matches but was he really committing to his strikes?

    Cullen stepped back, releasing her, and they both lowered their weapons. The morning sun had risen higher, casting long shadows across the courtyard. Despite the physical exhaustion, there was a lightness in their shared silence, a mutual respect that words couldn’t quite capture.

    As they sheathed their blades and gathered their things, Cullen couldn’t help but glance at her, his thoughts swirling with questions. There was so much he still didn’t know about the woman she had become. But if their sparring sessions had taught him anything, it was this: Ariana Trevelyan was not someone who would break easily. She carried her secrets like armor, and for now, he would respect that.

    But he would also be ready when she decided to share them.

    ~~~

    “It has been over two months since you returned, Ariana,” Isabel said one evening, her tone sharper than usual. They were sitting in the library, where Ariana had been poring over correspondence from Ferelden. “Two months, and you haven’t told him. You have multiple squads of Rangers training and operating within the city. The White Wolf is running operations in Kirkwall.”

    Ariana didn’t look up from the letter in her hands, though the tension in her jaw betrayed her unease. “And what exactly do you propose I tell him, Isabel?” she replied coolly. “That the Divine herself sent me to investigate Kirkwall? That Knight-Commander Meredith is under suspicion? You know as well as I do that’s exactly what I cannot do.”

    Isabel stepped closer, her frustration mounting. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Ariana, and you’re both going to get hurt. Cullen cares for you, deeply. And I—” She hesitated, her voice softening. “I care for him too. You’re letting fear hold you back.”

    Ariana finally looked up, her hazel-green eyes hardening as she met Isabel’s gaze. “And what happens when I tell him everything?” she asked. “What if he decides I’m no better than any other mercenary? Worse—what if he turns me in? If he is truly loyal to Meredith, do you think he could ignore this?”

    Isabel folded her arms, her voice firm but gentle. “I think Cullen is loyal to what he believes is right, not Meredith. You of all people should know that.”

    Ariana’s shoulders slumped slightly as the weight of Isabel’s words settled over her. She had spent months agonizing over this. When she first returned to Kirkwall and sought Varric’s help to find Cullen, it had been Varric who told her how quickly Cullen had risen through the ranks since arriving in the city—how he had become Meredith’s trusted Knight-Captain. At the time, the news had both relieved and unsettled her.

    Now, after months of operating in Kirkwall, she had seen firsthand how dangerous the Templars under Meredith’s command could be. Even though Linnea’s reports suggested Cullen wasn’t directly involved, it was clear he wasn’t entirely unaware of the growing abuse of the Rite of Tranquility. He justified it when it was reported to him, didn’t question it too much. Could he really be blind to what Meredith was doing, or was he choosing not to see it?

    Her fingers tightened slightly around the edges of the letter she was holding. Maybe Isabel’s right. Maybe I am protecting myself more than him, she thought, but she immediately shoved the idea aside. She had too much to lose if she was wrong.

    “You’ve heard Hawke,” she said finally. “Even she’s struggling to hold back, and she doesn’t have the same stakes I do. The more we learn, the more the lines between friend and enemy blur.”

    “That doesn’t make them meaningless,” Isabel countered, her voice firm. “Hawke knows where she stands. Do you?”

    “Yes,” Ariana shot back, her tone angrier than she intended. “I’ll stand with the mages—and that is exactly the problem.”

    The words hung in the air, raw and unvarnished. Ariana took a deep breath, regaining her composure. She raised her hands slightly in acknowledgment, as if trying to smooth the sharp edges of her outburst.

    Her gaze dropped for a moment, her voice quieter when she continued. “I’ll tell him, Isabel. But not yet. Not until I know exactly what we’re dealing with. I have to be sure.”

    “You mean until you can justify it to yourself,” Isabel said, her tone softening but still carrying an edge. “You’re not protecting him by waiting—you’re protecting yourself. Admit it.”

    Ariana’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, she said nothing. Isabel’s words had struck at a fear she refused to name: the fear that Cullen wouldn’t stand by her when the truth came out. That her choices—everything she had built—would drive him away. And if that happened… the thought twisted her stomach into knots.

    Isabel sighed, leaning against the desk and crossing her arms. “For your sake, and his, you’d better hope you find that information soon, child,” she said. “Because this city has a way of chewing up secrets—and the people who keep them.”

    The sound of steel clashing and shouts suddenly carried through the air, reverberating through the stone walls of Hightown. It wasn’t the muffled raucousness of a brawl spilling out from a tavern; it was different—chaotic, large, and brutal. The unmistakable sounds of a battle.

    Ariana froze, her ears straining to confirm what she thought she’d heard. Isabel turned her head sharply toward the noise, her sharp retort fading into silence. “What in the Maker’s name…?”

    Ariana stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor as she ran out of the room. “Stay here,” she commanded, her voice tight.

    She ran upstairs to one of the balconies, gripping the railing as she scanned the streets below. Her stomach clenched at the sight that met her eyes. Qunari. Dozens of them, heavily armed and swarming the streets of Hightown. They dragged people from buildings, cutting down anyone who resisted. Blood stained the cobblestones, and the screams of panicked citizens punctuated the air. The chaos rippled outward like wildfire, threatening to engulf everything.

    Maker… this is no random attack, Ariana thought, her chest tightening with urgency. Linnea’s warning from days earlier and the conversation with Hawke all echoed in her mind: The Arishok is getting anxious. If something doesn’t change, they may force the issue. They had seen it coming, but they were too late.

    She ran back into her room, already putting on her armor with practiced efficiency. She fastened the white fur-trimmed cloak of the White Wolf, tied a mask over the lower half of her face, and secured her weapons with a grim determination. The image staring back at her in the mirror wasn’t Ariana Trevelyan—it was the White Wolf, the leader of the Silver Rangers, a force sworn to protect the innocent.

    “Isabel!” Ariana called as she descended the stairs.

    She found Isabel in the kitchen, her face pale but her expression steady as she tried to calm the household staff. Emma clung to Isabel’s side, her wide eyes filled with fear.

    “Get yourselves and all the staff into the cellar and lock the door,” Ariana ordered, her voice firm and steady despite the turmoil.

    Isabel turned to her, her expression shifting from fear to resolve. “Ari, what is happening? The staff—some of them are out on errands—”

    “I don’t know yet,” Ariana admitted, her voice clipped as she moved to the backdoor. “The Qunari are in the streets, attacking anyone they can reach. It’s chaos out there. Go. Gather whoever is left here and get them to safety.”

    Isabel met Ariana’s gaze, her expression shifting from fear to resolve. “You can’t go alone—”

    “I can and I will,” Ariana interrupted sharply. “I need to find Hawke and Varric. The Rangers will need orders. This isn’t just Hightown—if it’s reached here, Lowtown and the docks are probably already overrun.” She placed a hand on Isabel’s shoulder, her grip firm but reassuring. “I’ll find everyone, but I need you to protect them. Now.”

    “Ari?” Emma’s voice wavered. “Come back?”

    Ariana crouched down to Emma’s level, placing a hand on the child’s shoulder. “Of course,” she said gently, though her heart twisted at the lie. “But you need to stay with your mom, all right? She’ll keep you safe.”

    Emma nodded reluctantly, clutching at Isabel’s skirts.

    Isabel hesitated but eventually nodded. She turned to gather the staff, ushering them toward the cellar. Ariana paused long enough to see them moving, then slipped out the back door into the chill of the evening.

    The sounds of battle grew louder as she navigated the shadows of the alleys, her heart pounding with urgency. Linnea had warned her. Hawke had hoped to contain this. But the signs had been there, and they had seen it too late. Now the city was burning, and the Qunari had become the fire consuming it.

    Her steps quickened as she headed toward the Hanged Man. Hawke and Varric would be her first stop. From there, she would organize the Rangers. Her thoughts raced, calculating strategies, prioritizing tasks, but beneath the tactical focus was a single, desperate prayer:

    Maker, keep them safe. Hawke, Varric, Isabel, Emma—the Rangers, everyone. Cullen… She didn’t have time for fear, but it simmered beneath her resolve, a constant reminder of how much was at stake.

    The chaos of the city loomed ahead, but Ariana’s resolve was unshaken. Whatever was coming, she would face it. For Kirkwall. For her people. And for the chance to make it through the night alive.

  • Chapter 30 – Calm Before the Storm

    12-13 Wintermarch 9:34

    The soft golden light of morning filtered through the estate’s windows, casting a warm glow across the dining room. Ariana had risen early, ensuring everything was ready before Cullen arrived. The table was set simply but thoughtfully—freshly baked bread, cured meats, cheese, and a pot of steaming tea. A small bouquet of wildflowers sat in the center, their soft blues and whites a subtle nod to Cullen’s homeland.

    She heard his footsteps before she saw him, the familiar rhythm bringing a small smile to her lips. As he entered the room, her heart lifted. He looked slightly disheveled, his golden hair still tousled from sleep, but his expression softened the moment he saw her.

    “Good morning,” Ariana greeted, her voice light and warm.

    Cullen paused, taking in the scene before him. “You’ve been busy,” he said, his tone teasing but laced with affection. “This looks… far more organized than my usual mornings.”

    Ariana laughed softly, gesturing for him to sit. “Well, it’s not every day someone turns twenty-four,” she replied, a playful glint in her eye as she slid into the chair across from him.

    Cullen chuckled, shaking his head as he sat. “I see you’re enjoying this far more than I expected.”

    She grinned, pouring tea into their cups. “Someone has to make a fuss over you. Maker knows you wouldn’t do it yourself.”

    As they began eating, the easy banter between them softened into comfortable silence. Ariana watched him from the corner of her eye, her mind turning over the small box she’d carefully hidden behind her chair. She waited until he reached for his second cup of tea before speaking.

    “I have something for you,” she said, her tone casual but her eyes betraying a flicker of nervousness.

    She nodded, stepping closer to him. “I know you already knew where they were, but… I wrote to them while I was away. I told them it was for your birthday, and they sent these.”

    He took the box carefully, his fingers brushing against hers. Opening it slowly, he saw a neat stack of letters tied with a ribbon. His thumb brushed the topmost envelope, immediately recognizing Mia’s handwriting. His throat tightened as he stared at the letters, his emotions swirling.

    “Since I stopped in Ferelden on my last trip,” she said quietly, her gaze steady on his face. “I reached out to Mia. She was more than happy to help. I just… thought you might want to hear from them. She did ask that you write back this time…”

    Cullen didn’t respond immediately, his thumb brushing over the edges of the letters as though they might vanish if he wasn’t careful. He swallowed hard, his golden eyes shimmering with unspoken gratitude.

    “Mia has written to me before,” he admitted after a moment. “But I… I never replied much. Not as much as I should have.”

    Ariana watched him carefully, her own heart aching at the vulnerability in his tone. “I did not know about your parents,” she said softly, her voice laced with sorrow. “I am so sorry, Cullen. I… I didn’t know they had died during the Blight.”

    He looked up at her, the grief he carried well hidden behind his usual calm exterior flickering in his eyes. “You didn’t need to know,” he replied gently. “You did so much for them already, going to Honnleath to warn them before anyone else. I didn’t want you to feel any burden for what happened.”

    Her brow furrowed as she stepped closer. “It’s not a burden, Cullen. I cared for them too. They… they were kind to me when they didn’t even know me.”

    He managed a small smile, his voice softening. “At least you got to meet them. I know they would be happy… that we’re here together again.”

    Ariana gave him a small smile, her hands clasping around her teacup. “You should read them,” she encouraged gently. “I’ll… give you some privacy if you’d like.”

    “No,” Cullen said quickly, shaking his head. “Stay. Please.” His gaze met hers, warm and open. “I want you here.”

    She nodded, her chest tightening as she watched him untie the ribbon and open the first letter. The room fell into a quiet hush as he began to read. His eyes moved over the words with a reverence that made her chest ache. Occasionally, his lips twitched upward in a faint smile, or his brow furrowed as he processed the contents. He read a passage aloud from Mia’s letter, her words full of teasing affection, and Ariana found herself smiling along with him.

    “She’s still as sharp as ever,” he murmured, skimming the lines. Then he paused, the faintest flush creeping up his neck. “Oh, Maker.”

    “What is it?” Ariana asked, tilting her head.

    He cleared his throat, his golden eyes flicking up to meet hers, a mixture of amusement and embarrassment on his face. “She said—well, she said she was right all along,” he admitted reluctantly. “About us. Apparently, she wasn’t convinced we were ‘just friends’ when you visited before the Blight.”

    Ariana burst into laughter, the sound bright and unrestrained. “Yes, well, I think it was obvious to everyone even back then” she teased, leaning back in her chair.

    Cullen chuckled, shaking his head as he continued reading. “She also claims I owe her an apology for denying it so fervently.”

    “She’s not wrong,” Ariana said, her tone playful. “You should write back and admit it.”

    He shot her a mock glare but couldn’t suppress his grin. “I would never hear the end of it.”

    When he finished the last letter, Cullen sat back in his chair, holding the bundle against his chest for a moment as he closed his eyes. “I didn’t realize how much I needed this,” he admitted quietly. “It’s been years since I’ve heard from them like this.”

    Ariana reached across the table, her fingers brushing against his. “You have a family who loves you, Cullen. They haven’t forgotten you.”

    His hand closed over hers, his grip firm but gentle. “And now I have you,” he said, his voice steady but carrying an undercurrent of vulnerability. “I don’t know what I did to deserve this, but thank you, Ari.”

    Her smile softened, and she squeezed his hand before leaning back in her chair. “You deserve it, Cullen. More than you know.”

    They sat together for a while longer, the letters resting between them as the morning sun continued its gentle ascent. The quiet intimacy of the moment wrapped around them, a reminder that, despite everything, they had found each other again—and for now, that was enough.

    ~~~

    The mid-morning sun hung low on the horizon, its golden rays casting a soft glow over the cobblestone streets of Hightown as they made their way toward the city gates. Cullen couldn’t remember the last time he had taken a day entirely to himself. His duties rarely afforded him such luxuries, and he found himself grateful for this rare reprieve—grateful, too, that he was spending it with Ariana.

    She walked a step ahead, her pace brisk, her cloak shifting with each stride. The lightness in her steps mirrored the easy banter between them. She seemed more carefree than he’d seen her in days, and he couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm as she pointed out landmarks or made sly remarks about his “overdeveloped sense of caution.”

    “I thought you were a Knight-Captain, not a Chantry cleric,” she teased, glancing back over her shoulder as they followed the path down toward the coast. The cliffs rose in jagged lines against the bright blue sky, and the air carried the faint tang of saltwater.

    “Both roles require a sharp mind, you know,” he replied with mock indignation. “Though I can see why you might not be familiar with the concept.”

    Her laughter rang out, bright and unrestrained, and Cullen felt a surge of warmth. Moments like these—when she was genuinely at ease—reminded him of how much he had missed her during her time away. She had always been someone who could shift the weight from his shoulders with a single smile.

    They left the main path, the beaten dirt trail giving way to rocky terrain. The cliffs loomed higher here, casting shadows that cooled the air despite the sun’s warmth. Ariana led him with purpose, weaving through the uneven terrain as if she’d been here a dozen times before.

    “This way,” she said, her voice tinged with excitement. She gestured to an outcropping of rock ahead, where the faint edges of a crumbled structure jutted out from the earth. “It’s supposed to be an old Tevinter ruin. I’ve heard stories about this place but never had a chance to explore it properly.”

    Cullen followed, his steps deliberate as he navigated the uneven ground. “Tevinter ruins?” he asked, his tone curious. “I would’ve thought you’d had your fill of them by now.”

    She glanced at him, an amused glint in her hazel-green eyes. “What can I say? Old ruins and forgotten histories—they’re like puzzles waiting to be solved. Besides,” she added with a sly smile, “you never know what you might find. Could be treasure. Could be danger. Keeps things interesting.”

    Cullen chuckled, shaking his head. “That’s a bold way of saying ‘reckless,’” he teased. “But fine. I’ll humor you, as long as you promise not to go poking around anything cursed.”

    “No promises,” she shot back, her grin widening.

    They spent the next hour exploring the ruins, their conversation shifting easily between speculation about Tevinter history and lighthearted banter about their own. Ariana darted ahead now and then, her curiosity pulling her toward half-buried walls and fragments of stone carvings. Cullen watched her, a mixture of admiration and amusement softening his expression. She had always been bold, driven by a quiet determination that made it impossible not to be drawn to her.

    As they wandered further, Cullen’s gaze caught something—a series of faint footprints pressed into the dirt near the edge of the ruins. He crouched down, inspecting them carefully. The impressions were fresh, leading away from the direction they had come. His chest tightened with a flicker of unease.

    “Someone’s been here recently,” he said, standing and scanning the area. His hand instinctively moved to the hilt of his sword. “We should stay alert.”

    Ariana joined him, her expression curious rather than concerned as she followed his line of sight. “Probably just travelers or scavengers,” she said lightly, brushing her hair back as she surveyed the footprints. “It’s not unusual for people to pass through here.”

    Cullen frowned, his grip on his sword tightening. “Perhaps, but it’s best not to assume. Especially not out here.”

    Her lack of concern unsettled him. While she agreed to be cautious, there was a quiet confidence in her demeanor that made him wonder if she knew something he didn’t—or perhaps that she simply wasn’t worried. Either way, it struck him as odd. This wasn’t the first time he’d noticed how at ease she seemed in situations that would leave most people uneasy.

    They continued forward, Cullen’s senses heightened as he scanned their surroundings. Despite the unease creeping in, he couldn’t shake the growing curiosity about Ariana. Her calm felt calculated, deliberate, as though she was weighing risks he couldn’t see. It left him wondering—again—just how much he didn’t know about what she had endured during the Blight, or the years that had followed.

    For now, though, he set the questions aside, focusing instead on the task at hand. Whatever lay ahead, he would make certain she was safe.

    ~~~

    The ruins had begun to fall silent again, the faint whisper of the wind the only sound as Cullen and Ariana made their way back toward the path. The earlier unease lingered in the back of his mind, but he said nothing, keeping his senses sharp. His hand never strayed far from his longsword, his muscles coiled and ready. Something about the fresh footprints they had found earlier didn’t sit right with him.

    It happened without warning.

    A sudden rustle from the cliffs above drew Cullen’s attention. Before he could react, a group of armed men emerged from the shadows, their weapons gleaming in the midday sun. They moved quickly, surrounding Cullen and Ariana in a practiced formation. Slavers, he realized immediately. Their leering grins and mismatched armor marked them as opportunists, their eyes darting between Cullen and Ariana as though sizing up their prey.

    “Well, what do we have here?” one of them sneered, his voice dripping with malice. “A fine-looking pair, wandering all alone. Lucky for us.”

    Cullen’s grip tightened on his sword, his stance shifting instinctively into a defensive posture. Beside him, Ariana stood eerily calm, her hands brushing against her thighs. Her knives, he realized. Small, discreet, and tucked against her legs—barely a threat, or so the slavers likely thought.

    “She’ll fetch a good price,” another slaver said, his gaze lingering on Ariana in a way that made Cullen’s blood boil. “And him? Looks trained. City Guard maybe. Would be good for the fights.”

    Cullen’s jaw clenched, his muscles taut with restrained fury. He stepped forward slightly, positioning himself protectively in front of Ariana. “Walk away,” he growled, his voice low and commanding. “You don’t want to do this.”

    The leader, a burly man with a jagged scar running across his face, laughed, the sound cold and guttural. “Oh, I think we do,” he said, raising his blade. “Take them.”

    The slavers lunged. Cullen drew his longsword in a fluid motion, meeting the first strike head-on. The clang of steel against steel rang out, sharp and jarring, as he parried the attack and countered with a powerful strike that sent his opponent sprawling. Another slaver came at him from the side, but Cullen was ready, his movements precise and measured as he dodged and struck back.

    Ariana, however, was a blur of motion.

    Before Cullen could glance back, she had already drawn one of her small knives and sidestepped an advancing slaver. With a sharp, practiced movement, she slashed his arm, forcing him to drop his weapon—a short sword. She caught it mid-fall, the transition seamless as she turned on her heel and drove the blade into his side. The slaver crumpled with a grunt, but Ariana didn’t stop.

    Her movements were fluid, deadly. She disarmed another slaver, this time taking a second short sword, and shifted effortlessly into a dual-wielding stance. Cullen’s eyes widened as he caught a glimpse of her in action. Her strikes were precise, her footwork agile, her presence commanding. This was not the Ariana he had known before the Blight—the girl who had once sparred with him in the morning light at the ruins near Lake Calenhad, her strikes hesitant and deliberate. This was someone else entirely.

    He could now see more of the skill she displayed sparring with him recently, except there was never any hesitation here. Had she lost their sparring match on purpose? Had she been holding back her true skill?

    The realization struck him hard, a brief lapse in focus that cost him. One of the slavers’ blades grazed his arm, cutting through the fabric of his sleeve. The pain snapped him back to the present, and with a snarl, he spun to disarm his opponent, delivering a decisive strike that ended the threat.

    But even as he fought, his gaze kept drifting back to Ariana. The way she moved—the confidence in her every strike, the calculated precision with which she dispatched her enemies—left him stunned. She was lethal, efficient, and utterly unrecognizable from the girl he thought he knew. It wasn’t just skill; it was survival honed into an art.

    By the time the last slaver fell, the ruins were eerily quiet again. Cullen stood frozen for a moment, his chest heaving as he tried to make sense of what he had just witnessed. Ariana stood a few feet away, her chest rising and falling with steady breaths. Blood stained her blades and splattered across her travel clothes, but her expression was calm, almost detached.

    “Are you alright?” she asked, her voice steady as she glanced over at him.

    Cullen could only nod at first, his words caught somewhere between his racing thoughts and the pounding of his heart. Finally, he found his voice. “You… you’re incredible,” he said, his tone laced with awe and something deeper—pride, perhaps, but also unease. “Where did you learn to fight like that?”

    Ariana hesitated, her eyes flickering briefly with something he couldn’t quite place. “I survived,” she said simply, as though that explained everything. And in a way, it did.

    Cullen felt a pang of guilt as the realization sank in. Whatever she had been through, whatever had shaped her into the fighter she was now—it hadn’t come easily. It had come at a cost. He couldn’t help but wonder what that cost had been. And he had a feeling it was more than darkspawn.

    Still, as they stood amidst the aftermath of the ambush, another thought struck him—a quiet, unshakable truth. She was strong, stronger than he had ever imagined. And while part of him ached to protect her, to shield her from whatever had forced her to become this skilled, another part of him swelled with admiration. She wasn’t just surviving; she was thriving, in her own way.

    Cullen sheathed his sword, his gaze lingering on Ariana as she wiped the blood from her borrowed blades and returned them to the ground beside the fallen slavers. For now, his questions could wait. What mattered was that she was safe—and that she was here, standing with him.

    ~~~

    The echoes of the fight still lingered in the ruins, the silence feeling heavier now that the immediate danger had passed. Ariana’s gaze flicked to Cullen, who stood a few paces away, his breathing steady but labored. Blood seeped through his sleeve, a dark stain against the fabric. She saw him trying to brush it off as if it didn’t hurt, but the shallow gash told a different story.

    “Cullen,” she said sharply, crossing the distance between them. “Let me see your arm.”

    “It’s nothing,” he replied, his voice gruff as he shook his head. “Just a scratch.”

    Ariana frowned, reaching for his arm despite his protest. “It’s not nothing. Sit,” she ordered, her tone brooking no argument. She crouched beside him as he reluctantly lowered himself to a nearby rock.

    From the corner of her mind, Krieger’s voice stirred. “You’re too important to lose,” The memory was sharp and unwelcome, a reminder of the man who had shaped her into what she was now. She was back in the day where her own focus faltered and Krieger bandaged her arm. She forced the thought aside, her focus snapping back to Cullen.

    Without a word, Ariana tugged at her sash, tearing a strip of fabric free. The material unraveled easily, and she wrapped it carefully around Cullen’s arm. He watched her, his expression softening as he realized what she was doing.

    “I’ll clean it properly when we get back,” she murmured, tying the makeshift bandage securely. She glanced up at him, her hazel-green eyes searching his face. “There. That’ll hold for now.”

    “You didn’t have to do that,” he said quietly, though there was no mistaking the gratitude in his voice.

    Ariana offered him a faint smile, brushing her hands off on her trousers as she stood. “It’s the least I can do, it’s your birthday after all and this was my idea,” she teased lightly, trying to keep her tone casual. “Now stay here. I’m going to check them.”

    She moved away before he could argue, her attention shifting to the slavers’ belongings. A quick search revealed little of immediate value—coins, scraps of food, and basic equipment—but in one satchel, her fingers brushed against the edge of something unusual. She pulled it free and found a small leather-bound ledger. Flipping through the pages, her expression hardened. The notes were vague but suggested other camps nearby—perhaps even captives waiting to be transported. Ariana slipped the ledger into her pouch without a word. This was something for the Hawke to handle. She would deal with it later. Alone.

    When she returned to Cullen, he was watching her closely, his golden eyes filled with a mix of concern and something else she couldn’t quite place.

    “You were calm,” he said, his voice quiet but weighted. “During the fight. You didn’t hesitate. You weren’t afraid.”

    Ariana paused for only a moment, then shrugged with a practiced ease, as though this were just another day. “It’s nothing unusual,” she said, her tone light and even. “You can’t afford to hesitate when it’s your life or theirs. You don’t fight to survive. You fight to win. That’s all there is to it.”

    The words left her lips before she could stop them, and for a moment, Krieger’s voice echoed again in her mind. “You don’t fight to survive, Ariana. You fight to win.” The mantra had kept her alive for years, but it came with a price—one she tried not to think about too often.

    Cullen frowned slightly at her response, the weight of it unsettling him. She could see it in the way his brows knit together, his lips pressing into a thin line. He didn’t say anything immediately, but the silence stretched between them, heavy and unspoken.

    Sensing the tension, Ariana decided to deflect. “I should be praising you,” she said lightly, folding her arms across her chest. “For someone without armor, you held your own pretty well.”

    Cullen raised an eyebrow at her, his lips twitching into a reluctant smile. “I’m a Templar, Ari,” he replied, a touch of humor creeping into his voice. “It’s my job.”

    “And here I thought you just looked good in armor,” she teased, her grin widening.

    The tension eased slightly as Cullen chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m not sure whether to be flattered or offended.”

    “Definitely flattered,” she said with a wink, stepping closer to him. “Come on, let’s get moving before we attract any more attention.”

    As they set off down the path, Ariana’s thoughts remained heavy despite her lighthearted tone. She knew Cullen hadn’t let the question go entirely. The way he had looked at her during the fight—the realization she had seen in his eyes—told her that he was starting to put the pieces together.

    She didn’t know what he would do if he ever uncovered the whole truth, but for now, she pushed the fear aside. There were other battles to fight, and Cullen—always the protector—was at her side. That, at least, was enough for now.

    ~~~

    The warm glow of the setting sun cast long shadows through the estate’s halls as Cullen and Ariana stepped inside. The exhaustion of the day clung to them, but the sight of her home brought a sense of calm. They had made it back, bruised but alive, and for that, Cullen was grateful.

    “You’re hurt,” Cullen said, breaking the silence as he glanced at the thin cut along her leg. It wasn’t deep, but it still bothered him.

    “It’s nothing,” Ariana replied, brushing it off with her usual nonchalance. She stepped toward the stairs, but Cullen caught her arm gently.

    Cullen wasn’t having it. “Ari,” he said firmly, his voice brooking no argument. “Let me clean it. Properly.”

    She turned, eyebrow raised, before a faint smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “Alright, fine,” she relented, though her tone carried a hint of teasing. “But only if I can do the same for your arm after.”

    He chuckled softly, shaking his head as they made their way upstairs. “Fair.”

    Ariana reappeared in her house robe, her movements fluid and relaxed despite the day’s events. Cullen felt his breath hitch slightly as she crossed the room. The robe, tied loosely at the waist, revealed more than he was accustomed to seeing. It wasn’t just her appearance—it was the ease with which she carried herself, the confidence that seemed to radiate from her despite the exhaustion. He quickly averted his gaze, focusing instead on the first aid supplies she’d placed on the table. 

    She sat on the edge of the chaise, her leg extended. “Alright, Knight-Captain,” she teased lightly, “do your worst.”

    Cullen knelt in front of her, carefully dabbing at the cut with a cloth dampened in clean water. The wound wasn’t serious, but his hands worked with the precision of someone who’d done this countless times. She winced slightly, and he immediately softened his touch.

    “You were incredible today,” he said quietly, his voice almost reverent. “But next time, maybe don’t let them get so close.” 

    Her laugh was soft, but he caught the faint blush on her cheeks. “I’ll keep that in mind the next time I get ambushed while I’m unarmed.” 

    As he worked, his gaze kept drifting—noticing details he hadn’t allowed himself to focus on before.

    The definition of her muscles was unmistakable, the kind forged not from casual exercise but from years of rigorous training. Her legs, lean and powerful, bore the faint scars of past battles. His eyes trailed up, subtly taking in her arms and shoulders, which had the same quiet strength. He’d always known her frame was athletic—it was evident even beneath her usual attire—but seeing it like this, up close and unguarded, made him realize just how much he hadn’t been able to see before.

    This wasn’t just someone who had fought enough to survive. This was someone who had lived through relentless challenges, someone who had trained, fought—and won—time and again.

    His mind flickered back to the fight earlier, to the way she had moved with such lethal precision. Where had she learned that? How had she survived everything the Blight had thrown at her, alone? Not alone. She couldn’t have been.

    Cullen’s hands faltered briefly as his thoughts spiraled, the cloth in his grasp still against her skin. Ariana tilted her head, her sharp eyes catching the lapse.

    “Distracted?” she asked, her voice playful but carrying a thread of curiosity.

    He cleared his throat, forcing himself to focus. “Just… making sure it’s cleaned thoroughly,” he replied, though the warmth creeping into his cheeks betrayed him.

    Her lips curved into a knowing smile, but she said nothing, allowing him to finish his work in silence.

    As Cullen tied the bandage securely around her leg, he couldn’t shake the questions swirling in his mind. The woman before him wasn’t the same girl he had met back in Ferelden. This version of Ariana carried herself with an unshakable confidence, her strength undeniable and yet still wrapped in layers of mystery.

    He’d seen many sides of her—her wit, her courage, her kindness—but this… this was something different. Something dangerous.

    A reminder, he thought as he sat back, that he needed to find out more.

    “Your turn,” Ariana said, snapping him from his reverie as she motioned for him to sit.

    He hesitated, but the determined look on her face left no room for argument. With a resigned sigh, Cullen moved to the bed, ready for what he knew would be another reminder of how easily she could disarm him—not just in battle, but in every way.

    “Sit,” she ordered, pointing to the bed. 

    With a sigh, he obeyed, easing down onto the edge of the bed. Ariana climbed onto the bed beside him, kneeling as she carefully untied the makeshift bandage she had wrapped earlier. 

    “Take off your shirt,” she instructed, her tone matter-of-fact. 

    Cullen hesitated, a rush of nervous energy making his movements falter. The intimacy of the moment—her bare shoulder so close, her focus entirely on him—made his pulse quicken in a way that had nothing to do with the wound itself. Swallowing hard, he pulled his shirt over his head and set it aside. The cool air was a stark contrast to the warmth of her hands as they carefully cleaned his arm, each touch leaving him feeling entirely too aware of her.

    Her fingers worked methodically, the slight tug of the bandage firm but careful as she tied the final knot. Cullen watched her with a mix of appreciation and unease. She wasn’t just bandaging his arm; there was something almost tender about the way she moved, her brow furrowed in concentration, her lips pressed together in quiet focus. 

    As she leaned back to examine her work, her hazel-green eyes lifted to meet his. For a heartbeat, the world narrowed to just the two of them. Neither of them moved, the stillness in the air thick and heavy, broken only by the distant crackle of the fire. 

    Her hand lingered, resting lightly on his arm as if to reassure herself that he was there, that he was alright. But it was the way she was looking at him that sent a jolt through him—soft, unguarded, with a warmth that threatened to undo every ounce of his composure. 

    Cullen’s breath hitched, the moment stretching unbearably as his thoughts betrayed him. She was beautiful, of course, but it wasn’t just that. It was the way she seemed to see straight through him, the way her presence steadied something deep within him, even as she so effortlessly unraveled the walls he had built. 

    But there was something deeper in her gaze, too—something he couldn’t quite place. Was it longing? Guilt? The flicker of emotion made his chest tighten, as though she carried a weight she wasn’t sharing. 

    He needed to move. To pull away before he did something irredeemably foolish. His mind raced, caught between the pull of her nearness and the nagging voice of reason that reminded him how precarious this was. 

    Slowly, Cullen cleared his throat, breaking the tension. But his voice, when it came, sounded rougher than he intended, betraying the battle within him. “I should… probably go,” he said, standing abruptly. 

    Ariana blinked, startled by his sudden movement. Her hand slipped from his arm as she straightened, watching him with an expression he couldn’t quite decipher—disappointment? Amusement? 

    For a moment, he thought he saw the corner of her lips twitch into a faint smile, as if she knew exactly why he was retreating. And that realization only made him more desperate to escape the dangerous pull she had over him. 

    Cullen stepped back, forcing himself to look away, his hands curling into fists at his sides to steady himself. “I—thank you,” he added quickly, gesturing vaguely to his arm. 

    But as he turned to leave, her voice stopped him. 

    “Stay a little longer.” 

    It wasn’t a command, nor was it a plea. Her tone was quiet, steady, as though she already knew he wouldn’t refuse. 

    Cullen hesitated, his back to her, his heart thudding painfully in his chest. He swallowed hard, glancing back at her over his shoulder. She was still sitting on the bed, her robe falling loosely around her frame, her expression unreadable but earnest. 

    He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Alright,” he said softly, his resolve crumbling. “Just a little longer.” 

    ~~~

    Ariana led Cullen out into the courtyard, her hand lightly brushing his as they walked. The night air was cool and crisp, carrying the faint scent of salt from the nearby sea. Above them, the stars blanketed the sky, their soft glow spilling into the courtyard, casting gentle shadows on the cobblestones. The lanterns from earlier had burned low, leaving the space quiet and bathed in moonlight.

    They laid down on the grass, side by side, staring up at the clear sky. The stars stretched endlessly above them, their light reflecting in Ariana’s eyes as she turned to glance at him. As they settled into the quiet, a familiar memory surfaced for Ariana, and she tilted her head back to look at the stars. “Do you remember the ruins near Lake Calenhad?” she asked softly, her voice carrying a touch of nostalgia.

    Cullen glanced at her, a small smile forming as the memory came rushing back. “Of course. You spent hours telling me all the stories, myths, and legends behind the stars. Real or imagined.” he quipped.

    Her laughter rang out, clear and unrestrained. The light in her eyes, the ease in her posture—it was a side of her he hadn’t seen often in recent days, and it warmed him to see her like this.

    Ariana’s laughter softened, her expression growing thoughtful. “I used to think those moments by the ruins were perfect,” she said, her voice quieter now. “Simple and peaceful… like nothing bad could touch us there.”

    Cullen nodded, the wistfulness in her tone mirrored in his own thoughts. “It did feel like that, didn’t it?” he said. “Like the rest of the world didn’t matter.”

    They fell into another comfortable silence, the kind that only came with trust and familiarity. Cullen found his gaze drifting to her more often than the stars, his mind circling back to the events of the day—the fight, the secrets she carried, the undeniable connection they shared. He had never met anyone like her, someone who could carry so much yet remain so strong, so vibrant. And despite the questions that still lingered in his mind, one realization stood out above all others.

    He loved her.

    It wasn’t a sudden epiphany or a grand revelation. It was quiet and steady, like the stars above them, something that had been there all along, waiting for him to notice. She was his anchor, his light in the chaos that had surrounded him for so long.

    As her breathing slowed, she drifted off, her head resting against his shoulder. Cullen remained awake a little longer, letting the peace of the moment wash over him.

    Later that night, Isabel wandered into the courtyard, her steps light as she carried a blanket over her arm. She paused when she saw them, a smile tugging at her lips as she took in the sight. “Maker, those two…,” she murmured to herself, her tone amused but warm.

    Quietly, she stepped closer, draping the blanket over their sleeping forms with a practiced ease. She lingered for a moment, her gaze softening as she watched them. Whatever challenges lay ahead, it was clear they had found something precious in one another. With a contented sigh, Isabel turned and slipped away, leaving them to the quiet peace of the night. 

    ~~~

    The gentle morning light filtered through the courtyard, painting the cobblestones with a soft golden hue. Ariana stirred, her eyes fluttering open to a world that seemed, for a moment, unfamiliar. She blinked, taking in the open sky above her, the faint hum of birdsong, and the soft warmth of Cullen’s arm draped tightly around her. The events of the night before came rushing back, and a small, content smile curved her lips.

    Her gaze shifted to Cullen, his face relaxed in sleep, the worry lines that usually creased his brow smoothed away. She moved slightly, adjusting herself, and felt his arm tighten instinctively around her. A soft groan escaped him as he began to stir, his golden eyes opening slowly to meet hers.

    “Good morning,” she murmured, her voice soft, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

    Cullen turned his head toward her, his lips curling into a warm, sleepy smile as his other arm found its way around her. Without hesitation, he pulled her closer, his lips capturing hers in a kiss that was both tender and lingering. In one smooth motion, he shifted, rolling her onto her back, his weight settling gently over her.

    Ariana laughed, the sound light and unrestrained, happiness bubbling up as she looked up at him. In this moment, there were no shadows, no secrets, no looming tasks—just them. If it were up to her, this would be every morning for the rest of her life.

    Cullen’s eyes softened as he gazed down at her, his thumb brushing against her cheek. For a moment, neither of them moved, caught in the stillness of the morning and the intimacy of their closeness. But then, as if realizing where they were, he froze. A faint blush crept up his neck as his eyes darted to the open courtyard around them.

    “We’re outside,” he muttered, his voice tinged with both amusement and embarrassment.

    “Yes, we are,” Ariana replied, her tone teasing as she bit back another laugh.

    With a reluctant sigh, Cullen shifted his weight off her, settling beside her once more. He ran a hand through his hair, the slight sheepishness in his expression making her grin.

    “You know,” she said lightly, sitting up and brushing her hair back from her face, “if you’re going to pin me to the ground, maybe next time pick somewhere a little more private?”

    His blush deepened, and he let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

    ~~~

    Later that morning, the smell of fresh bread and tea filled the estate, mingling with the soft hum of quiet conversation and the occasional clink of cutlery. Ariana sat across from Cullen at the breakfast table, feeling lighter than she had in days. The morning sun poured through the windows, casting a warm glow over the room as they ate in comfortable silence. Cullen looked more relaxed, though his armor still gleamed, a reminder that his duties were never far away.

    Ariana was halfway through her tea when a light knock at the door interrupted the calm. A courier entered, his demeanor efficient as he handed her a folded note. The handwriting on the outside was unmistakable—Varric’s precise scrawl.

    She unfolded the note, her curiosity immediately piqued.

    Pup— 

    Meet me at the Hanged Man. Got something interesting to show you. Time is of the essence. 

    —V

    Ariana’s brow furrowed slightly, though a small smile tugged at her lips. Whatever Varric had in store, it was bound to be worth investigating.

    “What is it?” Cullen’s voice broke through her thoughts, his sharp gaze already locked on her.

    She slipped the note into her pocket and shrugged casually, taking another sip of her tea. “Just Varric. He says he has something interesting to show me.”

    Cullen’s brow arched in quiet skepticism, his fork hovering midair. “And what does that mean?”

    “It means it’s Varric,” Ariana said lightly, her tone playful. “I never know what it means until I get there.”

    His lips twitched into an amused smile, though the curiosity in his eyes didn’t fade. “I’ll walk with you.”

    Ariana shook her head, setting her cup down as she stood. “No need. I still need to get ready, and I don’t want to make you late for the Gallows.”

    Cullen’s disappointment was subtle, but she caught it in the way his posture shifted. “If you’re sure.”

    “I’m sure,” she said, leaning down to kiss him as she passed by. “I’ll see you tonight?”

    “Of course,” Cullen replied, his smile returning as he adjusted his gauntlets, preparing himself for another day of duty.

    As he stepped out the door moments later, Ariana lingered in the quiet of the estate. She glanced toward the pocket where Varric’s note rested, her curiosity mingling with a faint flicker of anticipation. Whatever he had waiting for her, it was bound to be interesting.

    ~~~

    An hour later, Ariana made her way to the Hanged Man, her steps purposeful yet unhurried. When she arrived, Varric was waiting near the bar, leaning against a column with his usual nonchalance. Standing with him were Valentina, Lamberto, and Linnea, each looking equally intrigued—and slightly impatient.

    “Took you long enough, pup,” Varric teased, pushing off the column. “Thought you might’ve brought breakfast for all of us.”

    Ariana smirked. “You didn’t mention food in your note. Besides, you’d complain about the estate’s cuisine not being as good as Corff’s.”

    “Fair,” Varric admitted with a grin. “Let’s get moving.”

    He led them through Lowtown, weaving through crowded streets and narrow alleys. The further they went, the closer they came to the docks, the air carrying the faint scent of saltwater. The group exchanged questioning glances, but Varric said nothing, his pace steady and his expression giving nothing away.

    Finally, he stopped in front of an unremarkable stretch of stone wall with a single, nondescript door set into it. He turned to face them, his grin widening.

    “Alright, Varric,” Ariana said, crossing her arms. “What are we doing here?”

    “This,” he replied, motioning toward the door. “It just became available, and I think you’re going to like it.”

    The group exchanged puzzled looks before Ariana stepped forward, pushing the door open. Inside was a vast warehouse, its interior far more expansive than the modest door suggested. Multiple levels of walkways crisscrossed above, and the main floor stretched wide, offering ample open space. The dim light filtering through high windows caught the glint of reinforced wooden railings and wooden beams. At the far end of the warehouse, a heavy iron grate led down to what appeared to be sewer access, and an adjacent tunnel hinted at further underground passageways.

    The Rangers wandered inside, taking in the potential of the space.

    Valentina ran a hand along a sturdy support beam. “This is perfect for training and storage. We wouldn’t lack room here.”

    Linnea moved to the edge of the upper walkway, her gaze scanning the multiple entrances. “It’s defensible, despite all the access points. Easy enough to secure them if we put in the effort.”

    Lamberto crouched near the iron grate, inspecting the sewer access. “Reinforcing this will be simple. Making sure no unexpected visitors show up? Even easier.”

    Ariana turned to Varric, narrowing her eyes slightly. “What’s wrong with it?”

    Varric chuckled, leaning against the wall. “The price. It’s expensive—120 gold a month. For Lowtown, that’s outrageous.”

    Ariana hummed, walking a slow circle around the main floor, her boots echoing softly against the stone. “Easy access to the docks, out of the way of prying eyes, plenty of hiding places, training area…” She paused, turning to the Rangers with an arched brow. “Well?”

    Lamberto grinned. “How much do we care about the price?”

    Ariana’s smile widened. “We don’t.”

    Varric raised his eyebrows, partially surprised but already beginning to understand the depth of her resources. “So, is this it?”

    Ariana nodded decisively. “It is.”

    The warehouse echoed with their voices as the group began to explore its full potential. For the first time in a while, Ariana felt a glimmer of hope. This place was more than just a new base—it was a symbol of their growing strength and resilience in a city that rarely offered either. Whatever challenges lay ahead, this space would be their sanctuary.

  • Chapter 29 – A New Alliance

    10 Wintermarch 9:34

    Ariana sat at the library table, her fingers absently tracing the edge of a map laid out before her. The fire crackled in the hearth, but its warmth barely touched the chill knotting her chest. She needed Hawke and Varric’s help, the stakes for Kirkwall were too high.

    The library doors creaked open, and Isabel stepped in, leading Varric, Hawke, and the three Rangers—Valentina, Lamberto, and Linnea—inside. Ariana stood, steadying herself as her guests entered. Varric, ever the charmer, greeted her with his trademark smirk, while Hawke’s sharp gaze roved over the room.

    “Nice setup, Ariana,” Hawke said, lips curling in amusement. “Puts my little estate to shame.”

    Ariana rolled her eyes, though a small smile tugged at her lips. “You live three doors down, Hawke. I’m fairly certain our houses are the same size.”

    “Not true,” Varric chimed in as he sank into a chair. “Yours doesn’t have a library like this.”

    Hawke crossed her arms, mock-pouting. “Well, that settles it. I’m officially jealous.”

    Varric chuckled, leaning back. “This is why I stick to the Hanged Man. No petty comparisons, no upkeep, no nosy neighbors.”

    “And no peace and quiet,” Hawke added dryly, earning a laugh from Varric and Ariana.

    The banter lightened the room, but Ariana’s humor quickly faded. Her expression grew serious, and the change was not lost on her guests.

    Before she could speak, Lamberto glanced around and asked, “So… does this mean we finally get to renovate the manor, Wolf?”

    Ariana groaned, feigning exasperation. “What? The manor is already larger than this. And didn’t you just fix and renovate most of it?”

    “The library isn’t this nice,” Valentina chimed in.

    “I’ve never seen either of you in the manor library,” Ariana quipped.

    “It’s true,” Linnea added with a smirk.

    “Manor?” Varric interjected, raising a brow.

    Ariana sighed, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “The Rangers have a manor outside Redcliffe. I recently acquired it—it had been abandoned for years after the Blight.” She shrugged. “It fits our needs. Large grounds, stables, a workshop.”

    “But this is fancier,” Lamberto teased.

    Ariana waved a dismissive hand. “Very well. Do whatever you want with the manor when you get back. If that’s settled, can we move on?”

    The Rangers snickered but quieted as Ariana straightened, her tone growing firm. “Hawke, Varric, thank you for coming. What I’m about to share doesn’t leave this room.”

    Varric’s smirk faded, replaced by a calculating look. “You’ve got it.”

    Hawke nodded, her curiosity sharpened. “What’s this about?”

    Ariana produced a letter from her pocket and slid it across the table. “Start here.”

    Hawke unfolded the parchment, her brow furrowing as she read. Varric leaned over to skim the contents. Meanwhile, the Rangers sat down, their expressions unreadable—they already knew what was coming.

    When Hawke finished, she set the letter down carefully. “So,” she said, her tone measured but heavy with meaning, “what does she want from you?”

    “To risk everything,” Ariana replied evenly. She launched into an explanation of the Divine’s concerns: the Templars’ tightening grip on Kirkwall, her desire to help mages, and the chilling rumors about the Rite of Tranquility. She outlined the Rangers’ objectives, emphasizing discretion and the danger they faced.

    Varric let out a low whistle. “Maker’s breath, pup. She’s throwing you straight into the wolf’s den.”

    Ariana tilted her head, raising a brow with faint amusement. “Really? That’s what you’re going with?”

    Varric’s grin returned. “Couldn’t resist.”

    “She doesn’t trust anyone else to handle this quietly,” Ariana said, her voice steady despite the storm brewing inside her.

    Hawke’s jaw tightened, her arms crossing. “If the rumors are true, and Templars are making mages tranquil without cause… what then?”

    Ariana met her gaze. “Then we stop them. We stop more mages from being sent to Kirkwall. And we help the ones already here escape.”

    Hawke exchanged a troubled glance with Varric. “You’ll be going up against Meredith herself.”

    “I know,” Ariana said quietly. “But if mages are being made tranquil for no reason—” Her voice faltered briefly. “We can’t stand by and let that happen.”

    Hawke hesitated, then said, “There’s something you should know. When we first met Anders, he asked for help freeing his friend, Karl, from the Gallows.”

    Ariana stiffened, the name unfamiliar but the weight of Hawke’s tone unmistakable.

    “We found him,” Hawke continued, her voice bitter. “He’d been made tranquil—and not because he was a threat. The Templars used him as bait to lure Anders and anyone helping him. After we killed the Templars holding him, Karl begged Anders to… end it.” Her expression hardened, though pain flickered in her eyes. “He didn’t want to live like that.”

    The room fell silent, the tension palpable. Ariana swallowed hard, her fists clenching at her sides. The Rangers exchanged grim looks, and Valentina broke the silence. “So the rumors are true.”

    “It appears,” Ariana confirmed softly, her voice laced with resolve. “And now you see why we’re here.”

    ~~~

    Their conversation stretched on for hours, punctuated by bottles of wine that seemed to materialize endlessly, thanks to Isabel’s attentiveness. The initial tension had given way to a camaraderie built on shared concerns and trust. Varric and Hawke both leaned forward in their seats, their attention fully on Ariana as she finished outlining what the Divine had asked of her and the Rangers.

    Valentina, Lamberto, and Linnea sat quietly nearby, their expressions carefully neutral as they observed. Though briefed on their mission, hearing the details laid bare again—this time with Ariana’s close allies—added a weight that wasn’t lost on them.

    Varric broke the momentary silence, his tone lighter but still serious. “What of Cullen? Does he know?”

    Ariana froze for a moment, her glass poised midway to her lips. Her eyes flicked to the fire, its warm glow doing little to soften the sudden weight pressing on her chest. “No,” she said quietly, lowering the glass. “Not yet.”

    Lamberto leaned forward slightly, his brow furrowed. “Wait—Cullen? You mean the Knight-Captain of Kirkwall? Meredith’s second?”

    Valentina’s eyes narrowed slightly, her sharp gaze darting between Ariana and Varric. “The one we intercepted the other day? And why would he need to know?”

    Linnea, usually the quietest, tilted her head curiously. “Unless… is there more to this?”

    Ariana exhaled through her nose, her expression guarded. “He doesn’t know because I haven’t told him. Not yet.” Her tone was steady, but a faint edge betrayed her unease.

    Hawke raised an eyebrow, leaning back in her chair. “Why not?”

    Ariana hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “I… I don’t have enough yet. If I tell him now, without proof, I could be putting him in an impossible position. He’s loyal to the Order, to Meredith. If I’m wrong—or even if I’m right and he doesn’t know—what am I asking him to do?”

    Varric sighed, setting his glass down with a soft clink. “You think he doesn’t know?”

    She shook her head, her voice quieter. “I don’t know what to think, Varric. When I first came back to Kirkwall, looking for him, you were the one who told me he was Meredith’s right hand. You told me how quickly he was promoted.” Her gaze turned distant, her fingers tracing the edge of her glass absently. “I didn’t think much of it then. Of course he’d rise quickly—he’s everything the Order values. Disciplined. Loyal. Principled.”

    Valentina exchanged a quick glance with Lamberto. “You know him well,” she observed, her tone cautious.

    Ariana hesitated, realizing she couldn’t sidestep the subject any longer. “Cullen and I… we were close. Before everything. Before the Blight.”

    Linnea’s eyebrows rose slightly, and Lamberto let out a low whistle. “Close? You mean—”

    “Yes,” Ariana interrupted, her tone firm but not unkind. “It’s… complicated.”

    “Complicated?” Valentina repeated, her voice carrying a mix of curiosity and incredulity. “Wolf, you’re involved with the Knight-Captain of the Templars? And you’re only telling us now?” 

    Ariana set her glass down deliberately, meeting Valentina’s gaze. “It’s not something I advertise, Val. And it doesn’t change the mission.”

    Linnea leaned back in her chair, arms crossed. “Doesn’t it? If he’s loyal to Meredith, how do we know he won’t—”

    “He won’t,” Ariana said sharply, cutting Linnea off. “Cullen isn’t like her. He’s not… unhinged.” Her voice softened slightly. “But I don’t know if he’s blind to what’s happening. And until I do, I won’t put him—or us—at risk.”

    The room fell quiet for a moment, tension rippling in the wake of her words. The Rangers exchanged uncertain glances, but they didn’t press further.

    Hawke broke the silence, her voice measured. “And if he is in that position? If he knows, or worse, if he’s complicit, what then?”

    Ariana stared into the fire, her expression troubled. “Then I suppose we’ll stand on opposite sides of a upcoming war. But Maker help me, I hope it doesn’t come to that.”

    Varric leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “You need to figure out if you trust him enough to tell him, pup. Because if you don’t, this whole thing is going to unravel—quickly.”

    “And if you do trust him,” Hawke added, “then you need to tell him before someone else does. If you’re right about Meredith, she’s not going to let her second-in-command stay in the dark for long.”

    Ariana nodded slowly, the weight of their words sinking in. “I know,” she said softly. “But until I know more, I can’t risk it. Not yet.”

    Valentina tilted her head, studying Ariana carefully. “So what’s your plan, Wolf? You can’t keep him in the dark forever, not with everything we’re about to do.”

    “I’ll tell him,” Ariana replied, her voice steady but subdued. “When the time is right. But not until I have proof. Not until I’m sure.”

    Lamberto’s gaze lingered on Ariana, a mix of skepticism and concern in his expression. “And what if he takes it the wrong way? What if he—”

    “He won’t,” Ariana interrupted firmly, though her tone carried a hint of doubt. “Cullen isn’t the enemy. He deserves the truth… just not yet.”

    Varric leaned back in his chair, his tone light but carrying an edge of seriousness. “Just promise me one thing, pup. When you do tell him, don’t do it in a crowded room. We’ve got enough rumors flying around already.”

    Ariana let out a quiet laugh, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “I’ll keep that in mind, Varric.”

    The tension in the room eased slightly, but the air remained heavy with unspoken worries. Ariana turned her gaze back to the fire, her thoughts racing. Whatever lay ahead, she knew trust and timing would be everything. She could only hope that when the time came, Cullen would stand with her—and not against her.

    ~~~

    After hours of planning, it mostly came down to a fairly simple breakdown of duties designed to fit seamlessly into the daily chaos of Kirkwall. Hawke would simply continue being Hawke—stirring trouble when needed, investigating leads, and inserting herself into situations where others feared to tread. Her reputation as a meddler worked in their favor; no one would think twice about her sticking her nose into Templar or Circle business.

    If, in Hawke’s dealings, she uncovered anything tied to the Gallows or the Circle that could deepen their understanding of what was happening, she would share it. Similarly, if Ariana came across information she felt was actionable, she would approach Hawke and let her know that something required her intervention. Anything that fell within the realm of Hawke’s usual “meddling”—be it through the city guard, Templar politics, or even Lowtown connections—would remain Hawke’s domain.

    It wasn’t a perfect plan, but it was a start. This allowed the Rangers to operate in the shadows without being discovered. Or so they hoped.

    Eventually, Varric and Hawke took their leave, both offering parting words of caution and camaraderie. Varric lingered for a moment at the door, catching Ariana’s eye. “Take care of yourself, pup,” he said softly, a rare seriousness in his tone. “You’ve got a lot on your plate.”

    Ariana nodded, smiling faintly. “I’ll manage. I always do.”

    Once the door closed behind them, the room fell into a comfortable quiet, broken only by the crackling fire and the soft clink of glasses. Isabel had long since retired, leaving the remaining bottles of wine within easy reach. The Rangers leaned back in their chairs, their earlier reserve giving way to the warmth of old friends sharing stories.

    Valentina swirled her wine lazily in her glass, her sharp eyes glinting with curiosity. “So, Wolf. Cullen. How did that start?”

    Ariana laughed softly, leaning back against her chair. “That’s going back a while.”

    “We’ve got time,” Lamberto said with a grin, topping off his glass. “And wine.”

    Ariana’s smile softened, her gaze drifting to the fire. “Very well. I was here in Kirkwall, but my father told me I would be too easy to find. Told me to run. So Varric made arrangements for me to leave for Ferelden.”

    “Ferelden? During a Blight?” Lamberto asked, raising a skeptical brow.

    “It was before the Blight,” Ariana clarified. “This was back in 9:29—no word of darkspawn at the time. So here I am, a sixteen-year-old on the run, by myself. After I arrived in Ferelden, I was on my way to Lothering and stopped near the Lake Calenhad docks for the night. Walked into the Spoiled Princess to ask for some food and a room. Turned out, Cullen was there.” She chuckled softly at the thought.

    Valentina arched a brow. “Sixteen? That’s young.”

    Ariana tilted her head. “You know how old I am, Val…”

    “I do,” Valentina replied, smiling wryly. “But I guess I never stopped to think about it.”

    “He was an off-duty Templar who thought I was probably a runaway mage.” Ariana continued. “So he came to my table to flirt with me and see if he could catch me. We ended up talking for hours. So long, in fact, that the tavernkeep had to kick us out—everyone else had left long ago.”

    At that, they all laughed softly. They were seeing a side of Ariana none of them had known. They had been there only for the darkest times of her life, watching her survive, but never glimpsed the young girl who existed before the Blight and Krieger.

    “Well, anyway, it was just a few months later that we got word of the Blight. After the Battle of Ostagar, things became more complicated, and eventually, we lost track of each other. The Circle Tower had been sealed, no word in or out, and Crestwood flooded. I spent months on my own, always trying to get back there. But then I was eventually cornered by darkspawn…” Ariana trailed off.

    Lamberto’s grin faded slightly. “And if the Blades hadn’t found you…”

    “I wouldn’t be here.” Ariana’s voice softened. She glanced between Valentina, Lamberto, and Linnea, her expression sincere. “I owe all of you my life.”

    Linnea gave her a small, reassuring smile. “And here we are, following you into more madness.”

    Ariana smirked. “Would you really have it any other way?”

    They shared a laugh, but the mood sobered quickly. Linnea leaned forward, her expression turning serious. “Does Riley know about Cullen?”

    “Yes,” Ariana replied, swirling her glass absently. “The highlights.”

    Linnea’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Do you trust him?”

    “With my life,” Ariana answered without hesitation. Then her expression grew more somber. “But for what we’re doing… that’s different. It’s a direct conflict with his belief in the Order, in proper institutions. You saw his reaction at seeing the White Wolf in Kirkwall.”

    Valentina frowned, recalling the encounter. “When he spoke to me about it, he seemed… unsettled. Suspicious.”

    Ariana nodded. “Cullen believes mercenaries only follow coin. They don’t have principles and aren’t accountable to anyone. His Templar training doesn’t let him understand how someone not bound to the Chantry, the Templars, or an army could do good just because they believe in something.”

    The Rangers exchanged uneasy glances. Valentina broke the silence, her tone careful but probing. “Do you think he’d turn on you?”

    Ariana shook her head. “No. But that doesn’t mean he’d agree with what we’re doing. For Cullen, loyalty and honor mean everything. And if he thinks I’m crossing a line…” She paused, her jaw tightening. “I don’t know what he’d do.”

    Linnea leaned back in her chair, her gaze steady. “He’s going to find out eventually, Wolf. You can’t keep this from him forever.”

    “I know,” Ariana said softly. “But for now, I need to focus on what’s ahead. On keeping all of us alive.”

    The fire crackled warmly, casting flickering shadows across the room. Though the wine still flowed, a heavy understanding settled among them, unspoken but shared. Trust was a fragile thing, and in the days to come, it would be tested in ways none of them could predict.

  • Chapter 28  – A New Secret

    9 Wintermarch 9:34

    The early morning sun streamed through the library windows, casting a warm, golden light over the scattered maps and documents spread across the heavy oak table where Ariana sat. The Divine’s letter lay at the center, its words etched into her mind she had memorized the words by now. She didn’t need the reminder, but some part of her clung to it anyway, as if holding the letter made the impossible task it represented feel more tangible. She leaned back in her chair, her brow furrowed in thought. Despite her hopes, her gut told her the Divine’s suspicions were correct. The trouble she had gone through to bypass the Seekers and reach Ariana directly spoke volumes. She doesn’t trust them. And she’s afraid.

    The faint sound of footsteps echoed in the quiet space as Isabel entered the library, carrying a tray with tea and fresh hearth cakes. The soft clatter of the tray as she set it down on the side table brought Ariana back to the present, grounding her momentarily as she glanced at her friend with a small, grateful smile.

    “What’s on your mind this morning, child?” Isabel said noting the worry in Ariana’s eyes.

    Ariana sighed heavily, not knowing where to even begin telling Isabel what happened. What she had agreed to.

    Isabel’s demeanor softened instantly. Her posture straightened as she settled into the chair opposite Ariana. “What happened with the Chantry?” she asked gently, her tone laced with concern.

    Ariana didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she reached for a folded letter on the table beside her and handed it to Isabel. Watching as Isabel read, Ariana stayed silent, the sunlight from the windows highlighting her face.

    “You met with the Divine?” Isabel finally asked, her shock evident. She lowered the letter, her sharp green eyes locking onto Ariana.

    Ariana hesitated, her fingers tightening around the edge of the book. Taking a deep breath, Ariana leaned back in her chair. “The Divine,” she began, her voice steady but low, “asked me to investigate what’s happening in Kirkwall. There are rumors about the Rite of Tranquility being abused. About the power Knight-Commander Meredith is amassing. The Divine believes it’s outside the bounds of any Templar, but she cannot bring it to the Order herself. She needs someone like me—someone outside the Chantry, the Seekers, or the Templars.”

    Isabel’s brows furrowed, her worry etched plainly on her face. “That’s dangerous enough as it is, but I have a feeling there’s more.”

    Ariana nodded, her jaw tightening. “If the rumors are true, and mages are being sent to Kirkwall only to be made Tranquil without cause… the Divine wants me to intervene. To help those mages escape.”

    Isabel inhaled sharply, her hand clenching the letter. “That’s no small ask, Ariana. The Templars—”

    “—would come for me and the Rangers if they ever found out,” Ariana interrupted, her voice firmer now. “I know. I told her that. But she trusts me to handle it discreetly. To stay in the shadows. She said we cannot risk open defiance; it would destroy everything.”

    “And you agreed to this?” Isabel asked softly, though the weight in her tone carried a deeper meaning—concern for the impossible task her charge was taking on.

    Ariana leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table, her hands clasped tightly together. “I had to,” she said, her voice quiet but resolute. “If the rumors are true… if innocent people are being subjected to Tranquility…” Her voice hardened as she shook her head. “I couldn’t say no, Isabel. This is exactly what the Rangers are meant to do—help those who have no other way.”

    Isabel studied her for a long moment, the sunlight streaming through the windows catching the worry in her green eyes. Slowly, she set the letter down and reached across to place a hand over Ariana’s. “You are a strong woman, Ariana. Stubborn, even. But this…” She trailed off, then gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Just tell me what you need. I’m here for you.”

    Ariana looked up at her, her lips curving into a faint, grateful smile. “Thank you,” she said softly, her voice carrying a rare vulnerability. “This is not just about me anymore. If I fail… if the Divine’s trust in us falters… everything we’ve built could fall apart.”

    “And if you succeed,” Isabel countered, her voice firm, “you could save lives. You could stop something terrible before it becomes unstoppable. Focus on that.”

    Ariana nodded, the determination returning to her eyes. “You’re right,” she said. “I have work to do.”

    Her voice softened as she added, “But what of Cullen? He believes in the Order…”

    The weight of her words lingered, unspoken but heavy between them. Isabel sat back in her chair, her brows knitting together in thought.

    “He’s a man of conviction,” Isabel said carefully, her tone contemplative. “When we spoke about the Rite of Tranquility, he admitted he didn’t think it should be applied more widely, that the Harrowing has served well for centuries. But…” She hesitated, her gaze steady on Ariana. “He also acknowledged there’s a case for it in some instances. He mentioned that Hawke’s interventions made him uneasy, even if he didn’t outright disapprove.”

    Ariana’s jaw tightened, her gaze turning away as she absorbed Isabel’s words. She could picture Cullen’s struggle—his unwavering sense of duty clashing with his humanity. It was one of the things she admired most about him, but it also made her worry. Would he understand the choice she had made? Could he reconcile what she might have to do with the beliefs he held so close?

    Isabel leaned forward, her voice softening. “Cullen cares for you, Ariana. Deeply. I saw it in the way he spoke of you when you were gone. But…” She gestured subtly toward the letter from the Divine still resting on the table. “This will test that bond. He’s a good man, but his loyalty to the Order will always weigh on him.”

    Ariana’s fingers tapped lightly on the table, her thoughts racing. “If he knew,” she said quietly, almost to herself, “what the Divine has asked of me… what I might have to do… I don’t know if he could see me the same way.”

    Isabel reached out and placed her hand over Ariana’s, her touch steady and reassuring. “Then let him see you as you are. Strong, determined, and willing to fight for what’s right. If his heart is true, he’ll come to understand. Maybe not immediately, but in time.”

    Ariana met Isabel’s gaze, her eyes filled with a mixture of doubt and hope. “And if he doesn’t?”

    Isabel smiled gently, squeezing her hand. “Then he’s not the man you think he is. But I don’t believe that’s the case. Have faith in him, as he has faith in you.”

    Ariana nodded slowly, but the uncertainty lingered. “You mentioned Hawke intervened in something? What did she do?”

    Isabel hesitated, her expression shifting as she weighed her words. “It was about the Rite of Tranquility,” she said finally. “A Templar had requested that it be applied more widely, claiming it was necessary for order. The request was denied… officially. But then the Templar was found dead under suspicious circumstances.”

    Ariana’s stomach tightened, unease prickling at the back of her mind. “And Hawke?”

    “Hawke investigated,” Isabel said, her voice tinged with caution. “She went digging into matters the Order would have preferred to keep buried. From what I’ve gathered, she uncovered some unsettling truths. Cullen mentioned it once—he didn’t outright disapprove of what she did, but he wished she had stayed out of it. The Order doesn’t take kindly to outsiders meddling in their affairs.”

    “It sounds like she has a knack for uncovering things,” Ariana said, her tone thoughtful.

    Isabel quirked an eyebrow. “You’re thinking of trusting her with this?”

    “I was already planning to ask for her help,” Ariana admitted, her gaze distant. “If she’s already crossed paths with the Templars over the Rite of Tranquility, she might know more about what’s really happening in Kirkwall. And Maker knows I can’t do this entirely on my own.”

    Isabel’s expression softened as she nodded. “Hawke is resourceful. And she has her own… unique sense of honor. But be careful, Ariana. Bringing someone like her into this is a risk. For both of you.”

    Ariana tapped her fingers lightly on the table, her mind already turning over strategies. “The risk might be worth it. If the rumors are true, this isn’t just about me or the Rangers. It’s about lives—mages being subjected to something worse than death. If Hawke can help me stop that, I’ll take the risk.”

    Isabel studied her for a long moment before finally smiling faintly. “You always were the one to take the weight of the world on your shoulders.”

    Ariana chuckled softly, though the tension in her voice remained. “Someone has to,” she said lightly, though the truth of her words ran deeper than she let on. “I’ll have Varric bring Hawke and the Rangers here tomorrow morning. I have a feeling we have a lot to discuss.”

    “To the estate?” Isabel asked, her tone tinged with alarm. “What if Cullen comes by?”

    Ariana shrugged, though her expression flickered with unease. “Cullen is usually busy in the mornings with rounds and training recruits. Let’s hope he doesn’t break that habit tomorrow.”

    Isabel nodded slowly, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “Very well. But I do wonder how long you can keep this tangled web before he figures it out.”

    Ariana gave a half-smile, her eyes carrying a weight Isabel could see. “Not as long as I’d like, I imagine. But I need to gather what I can first. If anyone can help me uncover the truth in Kirkwall, it’s Hawke.”

    Isabel’s expression softened further, her voice gentle as she replied, “Be careful, Ariana. You’re walking a fine line.”

    Ariana met her gaze, the flicker of determination in her hazel-green eyes burning brighter. “I know,” she said simply. “But it’s a line I need to walk. Someone has to.”

    Ariana couldn’t help the guilt twisting in her chest as Isabel left the room. Her fingers tightened around the edge of the table, her thoughts running in circles. What she was doing—keeping Cullen in the dark—felt like a betrayal. Her thoughts turned back to the night before“You don’t have to tell me right now. I’ll wait. For as long as you need.” She was certain he had meant it, or thought he did. But how long would he wait? Deep down, she knew she couldn’t bring herself to face him with half-truths. Not now. He’s the Knight-Captain of Kirkwall… she thought to herself. All she could hope for was that he would never be involved in something like this.

    She sank back into her chair, letting out a slow, measured breath. If I tell him now and I am wrong… if the rumors prove unfounded… it would risk everything for nothing. She rubbed her temples, the weight of her choices pressing down on her. And if I wait too long and he finds out another way… The thought of his hurt, his disappointment, was almost unbearable.

    Ariana pushed herself up from the chair, pacing the room as her mind continued its relentless debate. He believes in the Order… in what it stands for. How can I ask him to even consider that something as vile as abusing the Rite of Tranquility might be happening under his watch? Her steps slowed, her gaze shifting to the bookshelves lining the room.

    But even as she wrestled with the guilt, a deeper part of her rationalized the need for secrecy. I need more. I need proof. Otherwise, it’s all speculation, and Cullen deserves better than baseless accusations.

    Her hand drifted to the pendant she wore, her thumb brushing over its surface absentmindedly. “I will tell him,” she murmured to herself, her voice barely above a whisper. “I just… I need to do this first.”

    ~~~

    Ariana adjusted her cloak, stepping out into the bustling streets of Hightown. The morning sunlight warmed the stone pathways, but her focus was firmly on the task ahead. Setting up a base of operations was essential—somewhere secure and discreet, a place where they could lay the groundwork for what was coming.

    The Hanged Man was as lively as ever, with the sounds of laughter, clinking mugs, and the occasional brawl filling the air. Inside, Valentina, Lamberto, and Linnea sat at a corner table, their expressions a mix of anticipation and guarded curiosity. Varric, meanwhile, leaned casually against the bar, chatting with Corff. Bianca was propped beside him, as always, a silent reminder of his readiness for anything.

    “You’re late, pup,” Varric called as Ariana approached, a teasing smirk on his face. “Your merry band of misfits has been waiting.”

    Ariana rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched into a small smile. “You’re awfully vocal for someone who wasn’t even invited to this meeting,” she shot back, sliding into a seat.

    Linnea cut to the chase, her sharp eyes flicking between Ariana and the others. “What’s this about?” she asked, her voice low but commanding.

    Ariana glanced at the group, folding her hands on the table. “We need a base—somewhere secure, with good access to the docks and Lowtown. The kind of place that doesn’t attract attention.”

    Varric ambled over, pulling up a chair and gesturing for Corff to bring over drinks. “So, you’re setting up shop,” he said, his tone casual but his eyes sharp. “Mind telling me exactly what kind of shop we’re talking about here?”

    Ariana hesitated, the faintest flicker of a smile crossing her face as she deflected. “I’ll tell you later, Varric. For now, secrecy and access are all that matter.”

    Varric raised an eyebrow, his expression equal parts curiosity and skepticism. “Secrecy and access,” he repeated, leaning back in his chair. “Sounds shady. I like it. Lucky for you, pup, I happen to know a thing or two about Lowtown real estate.” His grin widened as he added, “And I might just know a couple of places that fit the bill.”

    The drinks arrived, and after a quick round of agreement from the group, they set off with Varric leading the way. The streets of Lowtown were a stark contrast to Hightown’s orderly paths—narrow, grimy, and teeming with activity. Merchants called out their wares, children darted through the crowds, and the air carried the faint tang of saltwater and smoke.

    Varric led them through a series of winding alleys, his movements confident, as though he knew every brick and shadow of the district. Finally, he stopped in front of a weathered but sturdy warehouse. Its facade was unremarkable, blending seamlessly into its surroundings.

    “This,” Varric said, gesturing grandly, “is option one. Plenty of space, easy access to the docks, and best of all, no one asks questions about what happens here. Lowtown’s golden rule.”

    Ariana stepped closer, inspecting the building with a critical eye. “How secure is it?”

    Varric shrugged. “It’s Lowtown. Security’s what you make of it. But the location’s solid, and there’s enough room inside to set up for whatever grand plan you’re not telling me about.”

    Valentina crossed her arms, nodding approvingly. “It’s got potential. We’d need to make some adjustments, but it’s workable.”

    Lamberto ran a hand along the doorframe, frowning slightly. “We’ll need better locks, maybe reinforce the walls. And guards—rotations at all times.”

    Linnea scanned the surrounding area, her gaze sharp and calculating. “Escape routes are decent,” she said. “And it’s not too conspicuous. That’s a point in its favor.”

    Varric’s grin widened, clearly pleased with their reactions. “I’ve got another place to show you, but I’m betting this one’s already your favorite.”

    Ariana smiled faintly, nodding. “Show us the next one. I want to be sure before we commit.”

    As they continued deeper into Lowtown, Varric fell into step beside her. “You know,” he said, his tone lighter now, “you’re really leaning into this whole ‘mysterious leader’ routine. Just saying, I’ve seen it before, and it always ends with people asking more questions.”

    Ariana smirked, her voice low enough for only him to hear. “Then I guess I’ll have to keep you busy enough not to ask.”

    Varric chuckled, shaking his head. “Secrecy and access,” he muttered, his tone dripping with mock exasperation. “This had better be good.”

    Ariana glanced at him, the faintest hint of gratitude flickering in her eyes. Whatever was coming, she knew she’d need every ally she could trust—and Varric, for all his questions, was firmly on that list.

    ~~~

    The group followed Varric as he led them deeper into the winding streets of Lowtown. The atmosphere shifted the closer they got to the edges of Darktown. The air grew heavier, carrying a faint tang of rot and damp earth. The streets became narrower, darker, and less inviting. People moved quickly, avoiding eye contact, and the shadows seemed to linger longer than they should.

    “I hope this second option is worth the smell,” Valentina quipped, wrinkling her nose.

    Varric turned back with a grin. “Ah, Darktown charm. You either love it or hate it. Mostly hate it.” He stopped in front of a building tucked against the side of a cavernous stone wall. “Here we are. Option two.”

    The warehouse was smaller than the first, but its location offered a significant advantage: it was well-hidden, almost impossible to spot unless you knew exactly where to look. The thick stone walls of Darktown enveloped it, and its inconspicuous entrance blended seamlessly with the surrounding environment.

    “It’s not as roomy as the first,” Varric admitted, motioning for the group to step inside. “But it’s out of the way, practically invisible to anyone not actively searching for it. Plus,” he added, gesturing toward the faint sound of rushing water nearby, “there’s an underground access point here that connects to the docks. Perfect for keeping secrets.”

    Ariana stepped inside, her boots echoing faintly on the stone floor. The interior was surprisingly clean for Darktown, with high ceilings and a few sturdy support beams. Crates and barrels were stacked neatly in the corners, indicating that it had been used recently but wasn’t currently occupied.

    Linnea was the first to speak, her sharp eyes scanning every corner. “It’s defensible. Only two entrances that I can see—one here and one leading to the underground passage. That makes it easier to secure, but it also means limited escape routes if we’re compromised.”

    Lamberto nodded thoughtfully. “The underground passage is a huge advantage. We’d need to scout it thoroughly, make sure it’s safe and free of any… surprises.”

    Valentina ran a hand along one of the support beams, inspecting its integrity. “It’s small, but it could work for covert operations. Not ideal for training recruits, though.”

    Ariana frowned slightly, her arms crossed as she considered both options. The location was excellent for staying hidden, but the lack of space and limited access points gave her pause.

    Varric leaned casually against the wall, watching her deliberate. “So, what’s the verdict, pup? This one’s a little less glamorous, I admit, but it’s got its perks.”

    “It does,” Ariana replied, her tone thoughtful. She glanced at her Rangers, reading their expressions. Linnea seemed intrigued by the secrecy of the location, while Lamberto and Valentina both looked less convinced. “We’ll need to weigh our priorities. Security and discretion or space and accessibility.”

    Varric nodded, his smirk widening. “Sounds like you’ve got some thinking to do. Take your time. Both locations are available, so there’s no rush.”

    Ariana’s gaze lingered on the underground passage, her mind already spinning with possibilities. “Let’s head back for now,” she said finally. “I need time to consider.”

    As they made their way out of Darktown, Ariana couldn’t help but feel the weight of the decision pressing on her. Both options had their merits, but whichever she chose would shape the Rangers’ presence in Kirkwall—and their ability to operate undetected in a city already brimming with tension.

    ~~~

    The group made their way back to the Hanged Man, the tension of the decision hanging over Ariana’s shoulders. By the time they reached Varric’s suite, the familiar din of the tavern filled the air, offering a brief reprieve from the weight of their work. Ariana sank into one of the chairs, her fingers tapping lightly against the armrest as she looked to Varric.

    “Alright,” she began, her tone brisk but thoughtful. “Let’s talk about the price difference between the two warehouses. What’s the gap?”

    Varric leaned against his desk, arms crossed. “The first one? It’s about thirty percent more expensive. Like I said, it’s bigger, and its location in Lowtown makes it more visible. This one,” he gestured toward the general direction of Darktown, “is cheaper, discreet, but, you know, comes with all the charm of Darktown’s… ambiance.”

    Ariana nodded, her fingers still tapping. “And if we go with the second option, we’ll need to make sure the underground passage is secure. Any risks we should know about?”

    “Nothing immediate,” Varric replied with a shrug. “It’s mostly stable, but it hasn’t been actively maintained. You’ll want to scout it first. Make sure nothing’s lurking down there. Darktown’s full of surprises.”

    Ariana turned to the Rangers. “Once it’s dark, I want you to scout the passage. Take a full sweep—entry points, stability, any potential risks. Report back to me in the morning.”

    Valentina nodded, her expression serious. “Understood.”

    “Good.” Ariana shifted her gaze back to Varric. “In the morning, I’ll need you to bring them to the estate. Hawke too.”

    Varric raised an eyebrow, a sly grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “Hawke? Planning something big, Pup?”

    Ariana smirked faintly, though her expression remained focused. “I think we’re going to need her help. There are still some things I need to fill you in on. The more eyes and ears we have on this, the better.”

    Varric chuckled, pushing off the desk. “You got it. Hawke loves a good mystery.”

    Rising from her seat, Ariana smoothed her cloak, her mind already moving to the next task. “I’m heading back to the estate. If anything urgent comes up before morning, send word.”

    “Will do,” Varric said with a nod.

    Ariana offered a small smile before leaving the suite, her steps quick and purposeful as she exited the Hanged Man. The cool night air greeted her as she made her way back toward Hightown, her thoughts swirling with plans and contingencies. By the time she reached the estate, she was ready for some rest, though she knew her mind wouldn’t allow it to come easily.

    ~~~

    The library was quiet, the only sound the occasional crackle of the fire in the hearth. Ariana sat curled in the armchair, a book resting on her lap and a glass of wine in her hand. She wasn’t reading, though. Her gaze was unfocused, staring into the flames as her thoughts wandered back to her conversation with Isabel. The weight of the Divine’s task still lingered heavily on her shoulders, and no matter how she tried to distract herself, her mind always seemed to circle back to the same questions.

    The sound of footsteps broke her reverie, and she looked up to see Cullen entering the room. His golden eyes softened when they met hers, but his brow furrowed slightly, as though he could sense her unease.

    “You’re still up,” he said, his voice warm but tinged with concern. “It’s late.”

    Ariana blinked, glancing toward the window, where the darkness outside hinted at just how long she had been sitting there. “I lost track of time,” she admitted, offering him a small smile. “What about you? I didn’t expect to see you tonight.”

    “I wanted to check on you,” he replied. His gaze lingered on her, studying her face with the careful attention of someone who knew her far too well to be fooled. “And I haven’t seen you all day, and… well, I missed you.”

    The admission caught her off guard, and she felt a warmth rise in her chest. Before she could respond, Cullen crossed the room and crouched in front of her, his smile softening further. “You seemed… preoccupied yesterday. Is everything alright?” His voice was steady, but the flicker of worry in his eyes was unmistakable.

    Ariana hesitated, her fingers tightening slightly around the stem of her glass. “Just tired,” she said, though her voice lacked conviction. She could tell by the way his brow arched slightly that he didn’t believe her.

    “What happened in Val Royeaux?” he asked, his tone quiet but probing. “The Chantry summoning you—it’s been weighing on you since you returned, hasn’t it? What did they want?”

    Ariana hesitated, her fingers tightening slightly around the stem of her glass. She felt the weight of his question, the weight of everything she couldn’t tell him, pressing down on her chest. “They brought up my… obligations,” she said finally, choosing her words with care. “My family’s reputation with the Chantry is still tied to the engagement I ended. They wanted me to reconsider it.”

    Cullen’s frown deepened slightly, his eyes searching hers. “Are you?” he asked, his voice steady but unsure.

    Ariana shook her head quickly, her smile growing more genuine. “No, Cullen. I assured them I had made my choice long ago.” She leaned closer to him, her hand brushing his cheek in a gentle, reassuring gesture.

    She couldn’t let Cullen press any further—his questions might tread too close to the truth. Instead, she latched onto a lighter story, one that, if anything, would amuse her and distract him. “Speaking of Val Royeaux… did I tell you a noble there propositioned me?”

    Cullen blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift. “What?”

    Ariana’s smile widened, and she crossed one leg over the other, settling more comfortably into her chair. “A Comte, actually. He offered to be a very… generous benefactor in exchange for me becoming his mistress.”

    Cullen’s expression darkened instantly, his jaw tightening as his brows knit together. “He did what?”

    “Oh, yes,” she said breezily, clearly enjoying his reaction. “He was very insistent. Said his mistress had recently left Val Royeaux and that he found himself with more leisure time. Apparently, I was to help him fill it.”

    Cullen’s fists clenched at his sides, and he took a step back, his voice low and edged with jealousy. “And what did you say?” Cullen took a breath, trying to temper the jealousy flaring in his chest. He trusted her, of course, but the thought of another man propositioning her stirred something primal within him.

    She tilted her head, her smile turning playful as she watched him stew. “Why, Knight-Captain, are you jealous?”

    “Ariana,” he said, his tone carrying a warning, though the faint blush creeping into his cheeks betrayed him.

    Finally relenting, she stood and closed the distance between them, her movements slow and deliberate. She couldn’t help but feel a flicker of satisfaction at the way his gaze softened as she approached. “I told him my heart already belonged to another,” she said softly, her hazel-green eyes locking onto his. “And that I wasn’t in need of additional… entertainment.”

    Cullen’s breath hitched slightly as she stepped closer, her hands coming to rest lightly on his chest. She rose onto her toes, leaning in to brush her lips against his in a soft, lingering kiss. When she pulled back, she smiled up at him, her voice barely above a whisper. “You have nothing to worry about.”

    The moment was brief but carried the weight of her unspoken truths, her quiet promise that despite the secrets she held, her feelings for him were unwavering. Her smile returned, brighter now. “You’re the one I want,” she said simply, her words carrying a rare vulnerability that made Cullen’s heart ache.

    Cullen exhaled slowly, his hand lifting to gently cup her cheek. For a moment, he simply looked at her, as though trying to commit the moment to memory. “And you’re the only one I could ever want,” he replied, his voice quiet but sure.

    The fire crackled softly behind them as they stood there, the weight of her secrets hanging between them. For now, though, the warmth of the moment was enough to push everything else aside.

  • Chapter 27 – Stars Guide You

    8 Wintermarch 9:34

    After a quick conversation with the Rangers, instructing them to meet her in the morning, Ariana changed into more inconspicuous travel clothes. It was safer this way, especially after the close call at the docks. She stepped out of the Hanged Man with a purpose, intent on finding Cullen. She wondered if he would have stuck to his usual patrol schedule or if he might still be out with the Templars she’d seen earlier.

    She decided to head toward the docks first, planning to circle back to Hightown if she didn’t find him. Luck was on her side—she spotted Cullen not far from the Hanged Man, engaged in conversation with a small group of Templars.

    “Hello, stranger,” she called out, her voice teasing, the playful greeting echoing their past at Lake Calenhad before their journey to Honnleath.

    Cullen’s head snapped up, his expression shifting from confusion to surprise, and then softening into pure joy. Without hesitation, he closed the distance between them, his strides purposeful and unrelenting. Ariana stepped forward to meet him, throwing herself into his arms. He caught her with practiced ease, his embrace both firm and gentle, holding her as though nothing else in the world existed.

    For Cullen, nothing else did. Everything around them blurred into the background, a rare moment of unguarded emotion breaking through his usual composure. His charges, however, were not as oblivious. The Templars stood frozen, wide-eyed, murmuring among themselves. The stoic, steadfast Knight-Captain—so often perceived as unshakable—was now undeniably human, undeniably open, and undeniably in love.

    Unconcerned by their whispers, Cullen gently set Ariana back on her feet but kept his arms around her. His hand moved to her face as he leaned down, kissing her with the kind of passion that held every unspoken word, every lingering fear, and every promise he’d been carrying since she left. The kiss was unyielding, grounding them both in the certainty of this moment. When they finally pulled back, his forehead rested against hers, his smile warm and completely unguarded. “I missed you,” he said softly, his voice carrying the weight of his sincerity. “More than I can put into words.”

    Ariana felt her heart swell, the weight of her travels and lingering worries momentarily dissolving. She smiled back, her hand resting lightly on his arm. “I can tell,” she teased gently, though her voice carried the depth of her own emotions. “I missed you too.”

    Her eyes flicked over his shoulder to the group of Templars watching the exchange with thinly veiled curiosity. With a playful glint, she added, “Am I interrupting something?”

    Reality crept back in as Cullen turned, his attention snapping momentarily to his men. Even as he addressed them, his arm remained wrapped protectively around Ariana. “Check the Hanged Man,” he instructed, his tone steady and authoritative despite the warmth lingering in his voice. “It’s a likely place for them to go. Find out what you can and report back to me.”

    The Templars nodded, casting lingering glances between them as they saluted, and made their way toward the tavern, their curiosity about their Knight-Captain’s sudden change in demeanor palpable.

    As they walked away, Ariana tilted her head slightly, her tone feigning innocence. “Is something the matter?”

    “Nothing you need to be concerned about,” Cullen replied, his voice soft and reassuring. He smiled down at her, his expression gentle. “Come, let me walk you home.”

    Her heart fluttered at his disarming smile as they fell into step together. Their strides matched effortlessly, as though no time had passed since they were last side by side. Cullen reached out, brushing her hand with his, a quiet but deliberate gesture.

    As they made their way toward Hightown, their conversation shifted naturally to her travels. Ariana steered away from anything too revealing, choosing safer topics—her time in Val Royeaux, a few choice shops she’d visited, and an unexpected encounter with her brother Michael on the road.

    Cullen listened attentively, his eyes never leaving hers for long. “I wish I could’ve been there with you,” he admitted at one point, his tone wistful. “But more than that… I’m just glad you’re back.”

    Ariana glanced up at him, her smile brightening. “Me too,” she replied softly, her words simple but weighted with meaning.

    ~~~

    As they strolled toward Hightown, their conversation flowed effortlessly, a seamless blend of playful banter and quiet warmth. Cullen listened intently as Ariana described her nights aboard the ship, her voice softening as she painted a picture of stargazing on the deck. She spoke of the serenity, the way the sway of the ship lulled her to sleep, and how the stars seemed brighter, closer, when surrounded by endless water. He smiled, not just at her words but at the way she seemed to glow when sharing something that brought her joy.

    He had missed this. Her voice, her laughter, the way her eyes lit up when she spoke. These moments had sustained him during her absence, memories he clung to when the world around him felt too heavy.

    “You know,” Ariana began, her tone shifting to one of mischievous anticipation, “I have a surprise for you, but you’ll have to wait until your birthday.”

    Cullen raised an eyebrow, curiosity sparking. “A surprise, huh? Should I be concerned?”

    “That depends,” she teased, glancing up at him with a sly smile. “Do you think you have been good this year?”

    “Good?” he repeated, feigning offense. “I’ll have you know I have been the model of virtue while you were gone. Though,” he added, stepping closer to her, his tone dropping to something warmer, more intimate, “I missed you enough that I wouldn’t mind starting some new rumors right now.”

    The teasing glint in her eyes deepened, but before she could respond, he slid a hand to her waist and pulled her closer, his other hand resting lightly at her back. He felt her body tense slightly in surprise before relaxing against him, her hazel-green eyes sparkling with a mix of challenge and amusement.

    “Oh,” she murmured, her voice dropping to a low, playful tone, “you mean the Lowtown kind of rumors…”

    Cullen’s breath hitched, her words sending a pleasant heat coursing through him. Her hands slid around his neck, her fingers grazing the edges of his hair, and she leaned in, her confidence intoxicating. He swallowed, his usual composure fraying at the edges as he tried to keep up with her teasing. “I might,” he managed, attempting to sound unaffected. “Would you like to add to them?”

    She tilted her head, her gaze locked on his, her lips curving into a devilish smile. “Well,” she began, her voice slow and deliberate, “we are not far from the estate… If you’d like to sneak into my room for a ‘vigorous strategy session’…as Isabela will label it”

    Her words hung in the air, and Cullen felt the heat rise to his face. He wasn’t sure if it was her suggestion or the sheer audacity of her confidence, but he was utterly undone. Before he could muster a response, she pulled him into a kiss that sent every coherent thought fleeing from his mind. It wasn’t the playful teasing of before—this kiss was deep, insistent, a silent declaration of her longing.

    He found himself lost in her, his hands tightening around her waist instinctively as a soft moan escaped her, igniting something in him that he hadn’t realized he’d been holding back. For a moment, the world narrowed to just her—her warmth, her touch, the way she fit so perfectly in his arms. It was unlike her to be so bold, but he found himself reveling in it, captivated by the confidence that mirrored his own feelings.

    When he finally broke the kiss, it was only because he needed air, though he wasn’t ready to let her go. He let his forehead rest gently against hers, his breaths uneven as he tried to steady himself. Her soft laugh, so triumphant, so full of joy, brought him back to the moment.

    “Maker’s breath, Ariana,” he muttered, his voice tinged with exasperation but softened by amusement. “You are… in rare form tonight.”

    Her triumphant laughter rang out, filling the quiet street. “Oh, look at that,” she teased, folding her arms and leaning back just slightly, her expression smug. “The unshakable Knight-Captain, undone by a simple suggestion. I believe I win this round.”

    Cullen shook his head, his lips curving into a rueful smile. “If this is what victory looks like, I’m not sure I stand a chance,” he replied, his tone lighter now, though his heart still raced. He found himself wondering not for the first time how she managed to disarm him so completely—and how, despite his every instinct to remain composed, he didn’t mind in the slightest.

    Cullen shook his head, his lips curving into a grin despite his best efforts. “You are insufferable,” he said, though the affection in his tone betrayed any attempt at sternness.

    “And yet,” she replied breezily, turning back toward the path to Hightown, “you cannot seem to stay away.”

    “Do not remind me,” he said with a chuckle, following her lead. The playfulness between them carried a newfound undercurrent of unspoken affection, both teasing and testing the boundaries of their still young relationship.

    As they walked, Cullen found his thoughts straying to her demeanor. The way she carried herself, the light in her eyes—though still vibrant—seemed shadowed by something he could not place. Their banter was as natural as ever, yet there was a heaviness to her, a depth in her gaze that had not been there before. Whatever had happened during her time away, it weighed on her, and the realization filled him with an unsettling sense of guilt.

    Something had happened to her. Something he had been unable to shield her from. The thought gnawed at him, and he resolved, quietly, that he would not fail her again.

    ~~~

    As they approached the estate, the quiet stillness greeted them like a gentle pause after the bustle of the city. Ariana felt a sense of familiarity wash over her, though something about the silence seemed heavier than usual. Isabel was likely in the kitchen, preparing the next meal, as she often was when the household was at rest.

    The soft sound of their footsteps echoed in the hallway, and soon enough, Isabel appeared, wiping her hands on her apron. Her face lit up the moment she saw Ariana.

    “My dear girl!” Isabel exclaimed, rushing forward to embrace her. Her strong arms wrapped Ariana in a warm, maternal hug. “How we’ve missed you.”

    Ariana leaned into the hug, a genuine smile spreading across her face. “And I have missed you,” she replied warmly. With a playful glance toward Cullen, she added, “Though I heard Cullen here has been keeping you company in my absence.”

    “That he did,” Isabel said, turning her attention to Cullen. Her gaze softened, noting how the tension he had carried for weeks seemed to lift now that Ariana was home. “He has been a good guest. But I think I speak for both Emma and myself when I say we are glad you are back.”

    Cullen chuckled softly, his posture relaxing further. “I am just glad she finally made it home.”

    “Come, both of you,” Isabel said, motioning toward the kitchen. “I just made tea.”

    Ariana hesitated. “Isabel, I desperately need a bath and a change of clothes.”

    Isabel smiled, ever the caretaker. “Sit and have some tea first. I’ll have a bath drawn for you in the meantime,” she assured her, motioning to a nearby servant to make the arrangements.

    Ariana relented with a grateful smile and followed them into the kitchen. The familiar scent of herbs and freshly baked goods filled the air as they settled at the table. Isabel began asking gentle questions about Ariana’s travels, careful not to press too hard with Cullen present.

    “Was the journey taxing?” Isabel asked, her sharp green eyes studying Ariana’s face.

    “It was… long,” Ariana replied, offering a half-smile. “But I managed.”

    Cullen, however, was less subtle. “Was all your time spent in Val Royeaux?” he asked, his tone neutral but his eyes searching hers. “The journey between Kirkwall and Orlais shouldn’t have taken this long.”

    Ariana paused, meeting his gaze. She knew this question was inevitable and had prepared her answer. “I stopped by Ferelden,” she said carefully, setting her teacup down. “To let some friends know I was alright. I had left without word when I came to Kirkwall. It felt right to let them know I was safe.”

    Cullen’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Would that be the Silver Rangers?” he asked pointedly, a faint edge of frustration creeping into his voice.

    Ariana sighed, her patience waning. “Some of them, yes,” she admitted, her tone firm but calm. “They are friends, and they were worried.” Her answer was deliberately brief, signaling that the topic was closed.

    She rose from her seat, intending to leave, but Cullen’s next words froze her in place.

    “Does that include the White Wolf?” Cullen pressed.

    Ariana turned back to him, feigning surprise. “What?”

    “Do you know who he is? Or why he’s here?” Cullen leaned forward, his voice insistent.

    “What are you talking about?” Ariana snapped, anger flickering beneath her calm exterior. But guilt gnawed at her as well. She hated lying to him, but she couldn’t let him connect the dots.

    “Answer me, Ariana,” Cullen said, rising to meet her gaze, his frustration palpable.

    Ariana’s voice was taut as she forced herself to remain calm. “Cullen… I’m going to take a bath.” Her tone was restrained but carried a sharp edge. “Maybe when I come back, you can calm down enough to tell me what this is about.”

    Without waiting for a response, she turned and left the room, her steps measured but quick.

    As the door closed behind her, Cullen sank back into his chair, tension creeping back into his shoulders. Isabel, who had remained quiet until now, gave him a pointed look, crossing her arms.

    “What did I say before?” Isabel said, her tone gentle but firm, as though addressing one of her own children. “A conversation, not an argument.”

    Cullen sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just… I need answers.”

    “And you will get them,” Isabel replied, her voice softening. “But not by pushing her. You care for her, Cullen, and if you want her to trust you, you must show her that.”

    He looked up at Isabel, his brow furrowed. “You know I do,” he admitted quietly, the words slipping out unguarded.

    Isabel’s expression softened, her knowing look filled with warmth. “Then show her, Cullen,” she said simply. “Show her you can meet her on her terms. Trust me, it will make all the difference.”

    She paused, a faint but teasing smile tugging at her lips. “And remember, Cullen, Ariana is, for better or worse, a very strong-willed woman. Maker help you if you think you can win an argument with her. She will wear you down, one way or another.”

    Cullen chuckled softly despite himself, shaking his head. “I think I already knew that.”

    “Good,” Isabel said with a grin. “Because it’s the truth. But that strong will? It’s also why she has survived everything she has. And why she will always fight for the people she loves. You included.”

    Her words settled over him, a mixture of humor and wisdom that made his chest tighten. Cullen nodded slowly, letting the conversation sink in as he resolved to approach things differently. If there was one thing he was sure of, it was that Ariana was worth it. Every challenge, every moment of doubt—she was worth all of it.

    ~~~

    As Ariana came back downstairs, her entrance was nothing short of captivating. She wore a flowing house robe, its intricate embroidery tracing delicate patterns along the hem and sleeves. The uneven length, shorter in the front and cascading down at the back, added an almost ethereal quality to her movements. One side of the robe had slipped off her shoulder, exposing the smooth curve of her collarbone. She was barefoot, each step light and purposeful, exuding a confidence that was both effortless and commanding.

    Cullen, seated at the kitchen table, looked up as she entered, and his breath caught. For a moment, he forgot how to breathe. He had never seen her like this—not armored and not in travel gear. She seemed more herself, and yet somehow more breathtaking than ever. If he had thought her beautiful before, now he was certain the word was insufficient.

    Isabel, who had been tending to something at the counter, turned and immediately raised an eyebrow. Even she hadn’t expected Ariana to return looking like this, especially given their guest. “Well,” Isabel said, her tone full of dry humor as she gave Ariana a pointed look, “I see you made yourself… comfortable.”

    “What can I say?” Ariana replied breezily, brushing past Isabel’s subtle judgment with a casual wave of her hand. “It has been a long journey. I am tired, and I did not feel like fussing over buckles and straps. Certainly not with dresses.” She moved toward the table with an air of nonchalance, though the glint in her eye betrayed her true intent.

    “Hmm,” Isabel murmured, her gaze flicking between Ariana and Cullen, a hint of amusement dancing in her eyes. “Very well. Dinner is ready. I’ll go fetch a bottle of wine from the cellar,” she added, her voice laced with meaning as she left them alone.

    Ariana took the seat across from Cullen, leaning forward slightly as she rested her arms on the table. Her smile was soft and warm, yet her eyes sparkled with mischief. “That is better,” she said, exhaling in a way that seemed to let the weight of the road fall away. “I will not be missing life on the road for a while, if I am honest.”

    Cullen opened his mouth to respond, but no coherent words formed. His mind was thoroughly distracted, trying to reconcile the composed and formidable Ariana he had always known with the relaxed and radiant woman sitting before him. She was so at ease, so confident, that it was utterly disarming.

    “I’m… sure,” he finally managed to stammer out, clearing his throat in an attempt to regain some semblance of composure.

    Ariana’s grin widened, clearly delighted by his flustered reaction. She leaned back in her chair, tilting her head slightly as if studying him. “Are you all right, Knight-Captain? You seem a bit… distracted.”

    Cullen ran a hand through his hair, letting out a short, almost nervous laugh. His golden eyes locked onto hers, narrowing slightly as he leaned forward just a touch. “What are you trying to do, Ariana? What do you want?” His tone carried a mix of curiosity and exasperation, though the warmth in his voice betrayed the deeper affection behind his words.

    Ariana’s smile deepened, a soft, almost secretive expression spreading across her face. “Everything.” The playful lilt in her tone made it clear she knew exactly what she was doing.

    The charged air between them lingered, her words amplifying the tension. Ariana was reveling in the moment, while Cullen found himself walking the fine line between being completely disarmed and entirely captivated. The challenge in her eyes brought back the earlier thoughts he had tried—and failed—to control.

    As Isabel returned with the wine, the moment broke, though Ariana’s triumphant grin lingered. Isabel’s sharp green eyes flicked between them, and she smirked knowingly. “Well,” she said lightly, setting the bottle down on the table, “I see I missed all the fun.”

    “Hardly,” Cullen muttered, his voice tinged with exasperation as he straightened in his seat.

    Ariana chuckled softly, her gaze still dancing with mischief as she turned her attention to the wine. Isabel poured the drinks with a knowing look, her humor evident even as she remained silent. Cullen, still trying to steady his thoughts, resolved then and there that he needed to tread carefully with Ariana tonight.

    ~~~

    After dinner, Ariana led Cullen out to the courtyard. The cool night air greeted them, the faint scent of the sea drifting through Kirkwall’s Hightown. Isabel had been right; the courtyard was peaceful, lit by the soft glow of lanterns and the moon above. She walked ahead of him, her steps slower than usual. The weight of the Divine’s request hung heavy on her shoulders, mingling with the tangled web of secrets she already carried. The space felt private, almost sacred, a quiet reprieve from the chaos of her thoughts.

    “You know,” she said, tilting her head to the sky, her eyes tracing the stars, “while I’m not eager to be back on the road, there’s something… different about watching the stars at sea. Depending on them as your sole point of reference to guide you… home.”

    As she spoke, her hand slid into his, her fingers intertwining with his as though it were the most natural thing in the world. Her grip tightened slightly as she said the word ‘home’, and Cullen couldn’t help but glance down at their joined hands.

    Her grip and the weight of her words didn’t escape him. “Ari…” Cullen began, his voice low and steady, searching for the right words. But before he could continue, she interrupted him.

    “I’m sorry,” she said softly, her gaze dropping to the ground as she let go of his hand and stepped forward, hugging her arms across her chest.

    “For what?” Cullen asked, stepping closer, his worry deepening.

    “For being difficult,” she replied after a brief pause, her lips curving into a faint, self-deprecating smile. But inside, her thoughts were a storm. I’m sorry for everything. For the lies. For the things I can never tell you. For what’s coming. “I’ve probably just been on the road too long with only my thoughts for company” she continued taking a deep breath.

    He studied her carefully, his head tilting slightly. “Did something happen during your trip?” he asked gently, his tone steady but probing.

    She hesitated, her gaze dropping for just a moment. “No,” she said finally, the lie slipping out far too easily. But in her mind, the answer was anything but simple. Yes. Everything happened. I made a choice—a choice that might one day force me to stand against you “Nothing important just… the game. It was just Orlais.” she said sounding defeated.

    He stepped closer, his hand brushing her arm. “Ari,” he said softly, his voice warm and reassuring, “talk to me. Please.”

    She shook her head, a small, forced laugh escaping her lips. “It’s nothing,” she said, her tone carefully controlled. But inside, her thoughts screamed the truth. And it’s everything. It’s the Divine’s request, it’s Meredith, the White Wolf, it’s the fact that I might one day be your enemy.

    The tears came before she could stop them, welling up in her eyes despite her best efforts. She blinked rapidly, trying to hide them, but Cullen wasn’t fooled. His heart twisted at the sight of her pain, at the resilience she was struggling to uphold.

    “Something’s wrong,” he said quietly, his hand moving to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing away the first tear that escaped. “You don’t have to tell me right now. I’ll wait. For as long as you need.”

    Ariana’s breath caught at his words, at the unshakable steadiness in his voice. She wanted to tell him everything, wanted to let him shoulder the weight she carried. But she couldn’t. Not when she knew what her choices might cost them both.

    Cullen, sensing her hesitation, made a decision of his own. He didn’t ask again. Instead, he pulled her closer, his arms wrapping around her waist as he leaned in. His lips found hers with an intensity that left no room for doubt. The kiss wasn’t tentative or gentle—it was a declaration, a silent promise that whatever storm she faced, he would face it with her.

    Ariana’s hands found his shoulders, gripping tightly as though afraid to let go. She melted into him, letting the kiss consume her, letting it drown out the weight of her thoughts, if only for a moment. He held her as if she were his entire world, as if letting go wasn’t an option.

    When they finally pulled apart, their breaths mingling in the cool night air, Cullen rested his forehead against hers, his hand still cradling her face.

    “What was that for?” Ariana asked softly, her voice unsteady but laced with warmth.

    “To remind you,” he said simply, his golden eyes searching hers, “that you’ll never be alone.”

    Her heart ached at his words, at the sincerity in his voice. She smiled faintly, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I don’t deserve you,” she whispered, her fingers brushing lightly against his jaw.

    He kissed her forehead, his touch lingering as if trying to reassure her without words. “I mean it, Ari,” he said softly. “Whatever it is, we’ll face it together.”

    Ariana nodded, leaning into him, letting herself believe it for just a moment. But deep down, she knew the truth: she wasn’t sure she’d ever have the courage to let him face it with her. And as they stood there in the quiet glow of the courtyard, she felt the first cracks in her resolve—the slow but inevitable beginning of the lies she would carry between them.

  • Chapter 26 – A Journey Home

    27 Haring 9:33 – 8 Wintermarch 9:34

    The journey back to the Ranger manor was uneventful, but Ariana’s mind was anything but calm. The Divine’s words lingered in her mind like a haunting refrain.  “But if the rumors are true,” the Divine had said, “if innocent mages are being subjected to Tranquility without cause, I cannot turn a blind eye.” Ariana’s stomach twisted at the memory.

    She sighed, her breath visible in the cold evening air as the manor came into view. It stood stoic against the backdrop of the forest, a haven for the Silver Rangers yet brimming with the weight of responsibility. She dismounted, handing the reins to a stablehand before making her way inside.

    She found Riley in the main hall, standing by the fireplace, arms crossed. The flickering flames painted her sharp features in gold and shadow. Ariana paused for a moment, observing her lieutenant. Riley’s expression was as unreadable as ever, though the tension in her posture was clear. She’d been waiting.

    “So,” Riley said, breaking the silence, her tone clipped, “did you get what you went for in Val Royeaux?”

    Ariana shrugged, dropping her pack onto a nearby table. “That depends,” she replied, her voice carefully neutral. “Are you asking if I learned anything or if it was worth the trip?”

    Riley’s eyes narrowed. “If it was worth the trip. And whether I need to start bracing myself for the storm you’re about to bring back here.”

    Ariana let out a quiet laugh, though there was little humor in it. She poured two glasses of whiskey and handed one to Riley. “No faith in me, Riley?”

    Riley took the glass but didn’t drink, her piercing gaze fixed on Ariana. “Plenty of faith in you,” she said, her tone dry. “Especially in your ability to find trouble.”

    Ariana’s lips quirked into a faint smile, but the humor didn’t last long. As the whiskey warmed her throat, she laid everything out—the Divine’s request, the rumors of Tranquility’s overuse, and the call for the Rangers to intercept mages bound for Kirkwall.

    Riley’s reaction was immediate. “You what?” Her voice sliced through the room, echoing off the wooden beams. She planted her hands firmly on the table, her knuckles whitening. “Tell me you didn’t just commit us to defying the Templar Order!”

    Ariana’s calm exterior remained intact, but inside, her thoughts swirled. “No one said anything about open defiance,” she replied, her voice cool but steady. “The Divine needs someone to help—discreetly.”

    Riley’s laugh was bitter, almost disbelieving. “Discreet? The Rangers? We rebuild towns, escort caravans, and protect refugees. We’re not assassins, Wolf. And now you want us to smuggle mages out from under the Templars’ noses? Do you have any idea what you’re risking?”

    Ariana took a deep breath, her expression softening as she met Riley’s gaze. She understood her lieutenant’s reaction. Truthfully, she’d had the same one when the Divine first laid the request before her. But now, the weight of the task had settled into clarity. “I’m risking everything, Riley,” she said quietly, “I know the dangers, and I don’t take them lightly. But is this not exactly what we vowed to do? To help those who have no other means? Mages subjected to a fate worse than death… do we just stand by?”

    Riley straightened, rubbing her temples as she paced the room. “And how exactly are you planning to handle this?” She stopped abruptly, her eyes narrowing. “Wait… aren’t you involved with Kirkwall’s Knight-Captain? How exactly are you going to handle that?”

    Ariana stiffened, Riley’s question striking a nerve she hadn’t fully admitted to herself. The tension in her chest tightened, and for a moment, she didn’t respond. Finally, she met Riley’s gaze, her tone clipped. “That’s my concern to deal with. Cullen doesn’t need to know, and he won’t. We’re going to be careful.”

    Riley shook her head, pacing in front of the fire. “Careful doesn’t mean safe, Wolf. This is dangerous, even for us. If we’re caught, the Templars will label us as traitors and hunt us down. Do you really think it’s worth the risk?”

    Ariana’s voice hardened. “Yes, Riley. It’s worth it if it means saving innocents from a fate they don’t deserve. Isn’t that what the Rangers stand for?”

    Riley stopped pacing, her jaw tight. For a moment, the only sound was the crackle of the fire. Then she sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Fine,” she said, her voice quieter but no less tense. “What’s the plan?”

    Ariana set her glass down, her expression resolute. “We’ll need scouts in Kirkwall. People who can blend in, gather information without drawing attention. I want escape routes mapped and secured. If we need to move mages, it has to be seamless. We’ll need recruits. And… I’ll need someone I can trust to oversee it all in Kirkwall.”

    Riley studied her for a moment before nodding. “Fine. But if this goes sideways, you’d better have a backup plan.”

    Ariana offered a faint, humorless smile. “When do I not?”

    Riley smirked, though the tension in her shoulders didn’t ease. “Alright, Wolf. Let’s get to work.”

    As Riley left to begin preparations, Ariana sank into a chair by the fire, the weight of her decisions pressing down on her. She couldn’t shake the thought of Cullen—the look in his eyes the night before when she’d defended the Rangers. His trust in her was fragile, and if he ever found out the truth… she closed her eyes, a pang of guilt slicing through her. Hiding the truth from Cullen wasn’t just a strategy—it was a necessity. And yet, the thought of lying to him, of keeping this part of herself hidden, felt like a betrayal. One she wasn’t sure he’d ever forgive.

    ~~~

    “Dinner was wonderful, thank you, Isabel,” Cullen said, leaning back in his chair as Isabel collected his plate.

    “My pleasure, Cullen. To be honest, Emma and I are glad for the company. If you weren’t coming by for dinner these days, it would have been quite lonely without Ariana here.” Isabel gave him a teasing smile. “And Emma has taken quite the shine to you, Knight-Captain,” she added, her tone playful but her nod grateful.

    Cullen managed a small chuckle, though his heart wasn’t entirely in it. Ariana had been gone for almost a month and a half. She’d said a few weeks. How long could traveling to Val Royeaux and back possibly take…? He couldn’t shake the worry that had settled in his chest. No word from her. Not to him, not to Isabel, and even Varric had heard nothing. He had just gotten her back and now she had disappeared again.

    The year was winding down, and the winter chill in Kirkwall seemed to echo the emptiness he felt without her. He had little to look forward to when she wasn’t here. And though he was grateful Isabel had reached out to him after Ariana left, inviting him to dinner, it only dulled the ache for so long.

    The only thing keeping his mind somewhat occupied was the recent escalation in tensions with the Qunari. Fanatics had stolen what they thought was the formula for gaatlok, their explosive gunpowder, but instead made off with the recipe for saar-qamek—a poison gas that drove non-Qunari insane before killing them. If not for Hawke’s intervention, all of Lowtown could have been lost.

    The thought hit him like a blow to the chest. What if Ariana had been in Lowtown that day? He could have lost her without even knowing she was in danger. He clenched his jaw, shaking off the grim thought.

    “Isabel, have you heard anything?” he asked, his voice betraying the worry he couldn’t quite mask. “Any word from her?”

    Isabel sighed, setting the plates aside before turning back to him. “Nothing yet, my dear boy, though I imagine the journey to Val Royeaux was taxing. And you know how Orlesian nobles can be…” She trailed off, a faint smirk playing on her lips.

    “Or maybe, for a mercy, you don’t,” she added with a soft laugh.

    Cullen smiled faintly, grateful for the lightness she brought to the conversation. “Can’t say I’ve had too many of those to deal with,” he admitted.

    Isabel quirked an eyebrow, studying him. “And how are things at the Gallows? I hear there have been… recent upsets.” Her tone was careful, though her curiosity was evident.

    Cullen narrowed his eyes slightly, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “From Hawke or Varric, I assume?”

    Isabel shrugged, not confirming nor denying. “You know how news travels in this city.”

    He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “A recently murdered Templar had requested the Rite of Tranquility be applied more widely before his death. The request was denied but, of course, Hawke got involved anyway and started investigating. That seems to be her specialty.”

    Isabel tilted her head, her expression disarming yet thoughtful. “And do you believe that would have been the right thing to do? Applying the Rite more widely, I mean.”

    Cullen paused, clearly weighing his words. “There’s a case to be made for it,” he admitted. “But ultimately, I believe the Harrowing has served the Order well enough for centuries. A change that drastic seems… unnecessary.”

    Isabel quirked an eyebrow, studying him. “And what of Hawke? Do you think things in the city would be better if she weren’t getting involved in all these matters?”

    Cullen sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I won’t deny that she’s done a lot of good,” he admitted, his frustration evident. “But sometimes… sometimes I wish she would leave Templar and Circle matters to us. It complicates things when someone outside the Order interferes.”

    She nodded slowly, sensing his internal conflict. The conversation drifted for a while, meandering through idle remarks about the chill in the air and the latest gossip in Hightown, before Cullen finally spoke again, his tone more tentative.

    “Isabel, do you know how these Silver Rangers are tied to Ariana?” he asked carefully, not wanting to overstep but unable to suppress his curiosity. He wasn’t sure if Isabel knew about the argument he and Ariana had before she left, but the question had been nagging at him since then.

    Isabel set the plates aside and turned to him fully, her gaze steady. “That’s Ariana’s story to tell,” she said gently. “But what I can say is this: I know some of their members saved her life. She was cornered by darkspawn, and without their intervention…” She trailed off, letting the implication hang in the air.

    Cullen nodded, though the answer only left him with more questions. “I understand, and I am grateful to them for saving her life. But I still cannot see how you trust an organization without proper accountability.”

    Isabel raised an eyebrow, setting her cup down with a quiet clink. “Accountability, Cullen, cannot always be relied upon. Every institution, be it governments, the Chantry, the Templars, or armies, is only as honorable and accountable as the people in charge of it. Titles and systems don’t guarantee virtue.”

    Cullen considered her words, a flicker of doubt crossing his features. He sighed heavily, his thoughts returning to Ariana and their last conversation. “Maybe. But even knowing that, I still struggle to reconcile it.”

    Isabel leaned back slightly, her tone softening. “If you care for her, and I know you do, then you both need to talk this through. Not just argue about it, but really talk. Otherwise, this will only fester.”

    Cullen’s gaze dropped, the weight of her suggestion sinking in. “I care for her more than I even thought possible,” he murmured, almost to himself, not quite realizing he had spoken aloud.

    Isabel’s expression softened further, her eyes warm with understanding. She didn’t say anything, only gave him a knowing, caring look that spoke volumes. Cullen, realizing what he’d just admitted, cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair, but Isabel didn’t press. Some truths needed no further comment.

    ~~~

    The journey back to Kirkwall was steady, the chill of Wintermarch biting at Ariana’s skin as her horse trotted alongside her companions. Valentina rode slightly ahead, her sharp eyes scanning the frost-covered horizon, while Lamberto and Linnea followed closely behind, their conversation a low hum that blended with the sound of hooves crunching against the icy ground. Members of the Vanguard had been handpicked for this mission, their skills as scouts and trainers essential for the tasks ahead in Kirkwall.

    Ariana glanced over her shoulder at them, her voice breaking the quiet. “You’ve all been briefed, but I’ll say it again for clarity’s sake. Once we reach Kirkwall, our priorities are twofold: gathering intelligence and recruiting new Rangers. Valentina, you’ll handle the recruits, assessing their skills and potential. Lamberto, you’ll oversee training—keep it quiet, keep it efficient. And Linnea…” She turned her gaze to meet hers, her tone carrying the weight of trust. “You’ll continue gathering information and coordinating all the intelligence we get. Keep a close eye on the docks and Lowtown. Anything suspicious—smuggling, unusual troop movements, whispers about mages or Templars—I want it all on my desk.”

    Linnea nodded, her expression cool and focused. “Understood, Wolf. I’ll make sure nothing slips through the cracks.”

    “Good,” Ariana said, her gaze sweeping over the three of them. “This will require all of us to act as scouts, blending in and keeping our ears open. Subtlety is key. We’re not here to make waves—just ripples.”

    The Vanguard exchanged firm nods, their shared determination evident.

    They pressed on, the frost-tipped path winding through the quiet landscape. As the sun began to dip lower, Ariana caught sight of a group of Templars escorting a chained mage in the distance. Her body tensed, her instincts sharpening. She slowed her horse, raising a hand to signal the others to do the same.

    “What is it?” Valentina asked, her voice low.

    Ariana didn’t answer immediately. Her sharp eyes caught a familiar figure among the Templars, his stance and stride unmistakable. “Continue ahead without me,” she said, her voice steady but firm. “I’ll catch up.”

    The Vanguard hesitated but obeyed, exchanging glances before urging their horses forward, leaving Ariana to approach the group alone.

    As she drew closer, her pulse quickened. Michael. Of all the roads in Ferelden, of course, it had to be this one. His expression mirrored her shock, though it quickly shifted to something closer to disbelief. For a moment, neither spoke, the silence broken only by the rhythmic clinking of the mage’s chains and the crunch of boots against frozen earth.

    “Michael,” Ariana said at last, her voice carefully neutral. “Well, this is… unexpected.”

    Michael stepped forward, his gaze scanning her attire and the faintly regal bearing she carried. “Ariana? Is it really you?” His tone was laden with disbelief, as though the confident woman before him was a stranger compared to the sister he remembered.

    “Alive and well, as you can see,” she replied coolly. “And you? Still stationed in Ferelden?”

    “I am.” Michael’s brow furrowed, his hand instinctively resting on the hilt of his sword. “Where have you been? All this time, what happened to you?”

    One of the other Templars, clearly uneasy, interrupted. “Ser, is this someone we need to detain?”

    Michael’s eyes flashed with irritation. “No. She’s my sister.”

    The Templar’s skepticism was evident, his gaze darting between them. “She doesn’t look like someone who’s been holed up in Ostwick.”

    “No, I suppose I don’t,” Ariana interjected smoothly, her eyes flicking to the mage in chains. “Kinloch Hold?” she asked, gesturing toward the captive with a nod.

    Michael’s jaw tightened, but he nodded. “Yes. And you’ve taken an interest in Circle affairs now?”

    “Hardly,” she replied, her tone dry. “I would have expected you to leave Ferelden after the Blight.”

    Michael hesitated before responding. “I could say the same about you. You’ve a knack for disappearing.” His voice carried a faint edge of accusation, softened only by the flicker of sibling concern in his eyes. “Father—”

    “Knows exactly where I’ve been,” Ariana interrupted, her tone firm but not unkind. “And before you ask, no, I’m not coming back. Not to Ostwick, not to the Chantry, and certainly not to whatever path Mother thinks was meant for me.”

    Michael’s shoulders sagged slightly, and for a moment, he looked less like a Templar and more like the brother she remembered. “You could have at least told me you were alive.”

    Ariana’s expression softened, and she sighed. “Surviving the Blight alone on the road wasn’t exactly conducive to writing letters. For what it’s worth, Father only found out I was alive a few months ago. But… we’re here now.”

    The other Templar shifted uncomfortably, clearly eager to end the reunion. “Ser, we need to keep moving,” he said, nodding toward the mage.

    Ariana didn’t want to leave things like this. She dismounted, stepping closer to Michael and wrapping him in a warm embrace. “You’re my brother. I’ll always love you. Be careful.”

    Michael stiffened for a moment, then relaxed, his hand briefly resting on her shoulder. When she pulled back, his expression was conflicted, torn between relief and something heavier. “Just… stay safe. The roads aren’t kind these days.”

    Ariana nodded, her gaze lingering on him for a moment before she responded, her tone carrying a faint barb. “You too. And maybe next time, less chains.”

    Without waiting for a reply, she mounted her horse and trotted back toward the road where the Vanguard awaited. As she rejoined them, her thoughts churned. The brief encounter stirred memories and emotions she thought she had buried. Unexpected, indeed.

    ~~~

    The rest of the journey was uneventful, though the encounter with Michael lingered in her thoughts, a ghost of past tensions yet maybe someday they could find a way forward. By the time Kirkwall’s towering black walls loomed into view, she pushed the memory aside, focusing on the present. She had made it back with just enough time to prepare for Cullen’s birthday, and the thought brought a smile to her face. She had missed him more than she cared to admit.

    As the ship glided into the harbor, Ariana’s mood shifted. The oppressive black of the city’s walls seemed to mirror her unease. The sight of Templars moving through the docks made her stomach twist. The silver of their armor was a stark contrast to the grime of Lowtown, a reminder of their ever-looming presence. And then she saw him—Cullen, among the group, his golden hair catching the late afternoon light.

    Maker’s breath, that’s… not good, Ariana thought, a flicker of alarm flashing across her face. She couldn’t let him see her—not like this, not while she was accompanied by Valentina, Lamberto, and Linnea. And not wearing this, she realized grimly, cursing her decision to don her white cloak. Of all days to stand out like a beacon.

    She turned abruptly, her back to the docks, her mind racing. Tugging her hood up to shield her face, she motioned for her group to do the same.

    “Wolf, is something the matter?” Lamberto asked, his tone low and calm but tinged with confusion. It wasn’t often he saw her truly rattled.

    “I know one of the Templars at the docks,” Ariana replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “He can’t know who I am. If he does, we’ll have more than a wave—we’ll have a storm.”

    Her composure was steady, but the undercurrent of urgency in her voice made the others react instantly. Valentina, Lamberto, and Linnea exchanged quick glances, their trust in her absolute.

    “We disembark quickly, quietly, and get out of sight as soon as possible,” she continued, her tone sharp and commanding. “Follow me. Hoods up. No mistakes.”

    “By your order, Wolf,” Lamberto replied, his voice firm, echoing the unspoken unity of the Vanguard.

    The four of them moved with practiced precision, gathering their belongings as the ship docked. Ariana led the way, her movements fluid, her steps light as they descended onto the docks. Her heart raced as she darted a glance back at Cullen. He wasn’t looking her way yet, but she could feel the weight of his presence like a tether pulling her closer. She couldn’t risk it.

    Pausing briefly, she handed a small pouch of coins to a dockhand, her voice low but firm. “Take these to Hightown. Be thorough. And take your time.” She slipped him another coin, leaning in to whisper, “And make sure no one follows you.”

    The dockhand nodded, hurrying off with her belongings. Ariana turned back to her group, ready to move, when Cullen’s voice rang out across the bustling docks.

    “Hold a moment!”

    She froze, her breath catching. Her pulse thundered in her ears, but she forced herself to stay calm. The tone in his voice didn’t suggest recognition—it was an order, not familiarity. Still, she couldn’t risk it. Her mind raced, and she turned slightly, catching a glimpse of him from beneath her hood. He was closer than she’d like but still far enough for her to act.

    “Handle this,” she whispered to Valentina, her voice firm and steady. “If he asks why we’re here, tell him we have a contract in Starkhaven.”

    Valentina smirked, her hand brushing lightly against the hilt of her dagger. “And if he asks why you left?”

    Ariana allowed herself a small, wry smile. “The Wolf doesn’t meet just anyone. Meet me at the Hanged Man when you’re done. Make sure you’re not followed.”

    Valentina nodded, her smirk widening. “Understood.”

    Without another word, Ariana slipped into the shadows of an alley, her movements quick and deliberate. She trusted Valentina to handle the rest, her mind already focused on the next steps. She couldn’t afford to be reckless, not now.

    ~~~

    Cullen stood near the docks, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows over the bustling harbor. He adjusted the strap of his sword as he spoke to the two Templars beside him, outlining the evening patrols. “Make sure to keep an eye on the taverns near Lowtown,” he said firmly. “We’ve had more reports of trouble near the Hanged Man.”

    “Yes, Knight-Captain,” one of them replied, nodding.

    Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of a dockhand fumbling with a heavy trunk, its awkward thuds on the wooden planks cutting through the din of the harbor. Cullen’s gaze shifted instinctively toward the sound, his sharp eyes landing on a group of cloaked figures disembarking from a ship. Most were inconspicuous, but one stood out immediately—a figure cloaked in white.

    His brow furrowed, his breath catching for a moment. The stories swirled in his mind unbidden, tales he didn’t particularly enjoy recalling. The white cloak trimmed with fur could only mean one thing. “Is that…?” he murmured aloud, his voice trailing off.

    One of the Templars beside him followed his line of sight, his eyes widening in recognition. “The White Wolf?” he whispered, awe creeping into his tone.

    Another Templar, younger and less reserved, straightened visibly. “Here? In Kirkwall? Maker’s breath…”

    Cullen’s jaw tightened. Unlike some of his men, he didn’t share their admiration for the so-called White Wolf. To him, the tales were just that—tales. Stories that glorified mercenaries and encouraged reckless hero worship. Still, the sight of the figure in the white cloak stirred something deeper—a curiosity he couldn’t ignore.

    “Hold a moment!” Cullen called out, his voice cutting through the noise of the docks. He stepped forward, his gaze locked on the group as the figures paused.

    One of them, a woman with sharp eyes and a confident bearing, turned and stepped forward to meet him. Her cloak was dark, her hood pulled low, but there was an unmistakable air of control about her. She positioned herself deliberately between Cullen and the alley where the white-cloaked figure had disappeared.

    “Knight-Captain,” the woman said smoothly, her tone even and polite but with a hint of amusement. “Is there something we can help you with?”

    “Who are you?” Cullen asked, his tone sharp as his eyes scanned the group. “And why did that one leave so quickly?” He gestured toward the alley, suspicion clear in his voice.

    The woman offered a faint smile, her demeanor unshaken. “The Wolf doesn’t meet just anyone,” she said simply, her words carrying a weight that made Cullen’s jaw tighten further.

    “The White Wolf?” one of the younger Templars behind him whispered, his awe unabated.

    Cullen ignored the murmurs and took a step closer, his gaze narrowing. “And what exactly are you hiding?” he asked, his voice low but insistent.

    The woman tilted her head slightly, her smirk widening. “Nothing worth your trouble, Knight-Captain,” she replied, her tone almost teasing. “We’re here on a contract for Starkhaven. That’s all you need to know.”

    Cullen’s frown deepened, the accent, the look. Antivan Crows. Of course, their reputation preceded them, though not in any way he trusted. Then there was the matter of how Antivan Crows were connected to the Silver Rangers, to the White Wolf. “What does the White Wolf have to do with the Crows?” he asked, his tone sharp, his eyes narrowing on the woman before him.

    Valentina shrugged casually, the motion almost dismissive. “The Wolf is familiar with the area,” she replied, her voice calm. “And our target. That’s all.”

    Her words struck a nerve, but Cullen held his ground, his suspicion mounting. He glanced toward the alley again, his instincts urging him to pursue. But something in the woman’s confidence gave him pause. She was clearly skilled—more than capable of holding her own, even against him and his Templars. And she knew exactly how to say just enough without truly revealing anything.

    Finally, after a tense moment, Cullen exhaled sharply and stepped back. “You’d do well to stay out of trouble,” he said curtly, his voice laced with warning.

    “Always,” the woman replied, dipping her head slightly in mock politeness before turning back to rejoin her group.

    Cullen’s gaze lingered on the alley for a moment longer before he turned back to his men, frustration simmering beneath his composed exterior. Whatever game the White Wolf was playing, he wasn’t sure he liked being a part of it—even from a distance. But for now, he had no choice but to let it go. This was a problem for the City Guard.

    “Let’s move,” he said shortly, leading the Templars away from the docks. But his thoughts remained on the figure in white, and the unsettling sense that this encounter was far from over.

    ~~~

    Ariana quickly made her way through the bustling streets of Lowtown, her mind racing. She needed to shed the cloak and find a way to separate Ariana from the White Wolf. If she could sit with Varric for a while, it would seem natural—like she’d come straight to the Hanged Man from the docks without any detours. The less overlap between her two lives, the better.

    As she slipped into the familiar warmth of the Hanged Man, she paused briefly at the bar. “Corff,” she said quietly, leaning over the counter. “Three cloaked figures will be coming through soon. Send them to Varric’s suite.”

    Corff nodded without hesitation, used to her cryptic instructions. “Will do.”

    “Thanks.” With that, she made her way upstairs, her steps quick and quiet. Reaching Varric’s suite, she opened the door, stepping inside and shutting it firmly behind her. She turned—and immediately cursed herself under her breath.

    Varric and Hawke turned to look at the cloaked figure standing in the doorway, their conversation halted. Ariana froze, her face hidden beneath the hood. Of course, Hawke had to be here. Between Hawke finding out and Cullen… she’d take Hawke any day. Still, this wasn’t the reveal she had planned.

    “Well,” Varric said, a knowing smirk spreading across his face as he leaned back in his chair. “If it isn’t the White Wolf herself. Welcome back, pup!”

    Ariana let out a long sigh, tugging the hood back and running a hand through her hair. “Varric…”

    Hawke blinked, their brow furrowing before realization dawned. “Wait… what?” she said slowly, her gaze moving between Ariana and Varric. “You’re the White Wolf?” Her expression shifted, now laced with understanding. “Well, that explains everything.”

    Ariana rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath as she stepped further into the room. “Great. So long as it doesn’t leave this room.”

    Varric chuckled, gesturing to the space around them. “My lips are sealed, pup. And Hawke? Well, she’s better at keeping secrets than most. Aren’t you, Hawke?”

    Hawke snorted, crossing her arms. “I’ve kept worse,” she replied with a wry grin.

    Ignoring their banter, Ariana shrugged off the white cloak, folding it hurriedly and stuffing it into a chest Varric kept by the wall. The less it was seen, the better. She straightened, taking a moment to compose herself before turning back to the two of them.

    “Well,” Varric said, tilting his head and observing her carefully, “looks like you’ve had quite the trip. Care to share what’s been going on, or are you just here to drink?”

    Ariana hesitated, considering her words carefully. “Both,” she admitted finally, dropping into a chair across from them. “But first, let’s keep this simple—if anyone asks, I’ve been here all afternoon.”

    Hawke raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Oh, this is going to be good.”

    Ariana groaned, already regretting her decision to come here. “Just… let’s not make it more complicated than it needs to be, alright?” She glanced at Varric, who was watching her with that ever-perceptive gaze of his. “And maybe pour me something strong while you’re at it.”

    Varric grinned, already reaching for a bottle. “You’ve got it, pup. But I’m expecting a very good story in return.”

    Ariana sighed, rubbing her temples. “You’ll get your story,” she muttered. “Just not the one you’re hoping for.”

    ~~~

    Ariana leaned back in the chair, letting out a deep breath as Varric poured her a drink. Hawke sat across from her, arms crossed, her expression expectant.

    “So,” Varric began, sliding the glass across the table to her, “are you going to tell us why you look like you’ve been chased through half of Kirkwall?”

    Ariana took a sip of the whiskey, letting its warmth calm her nerves before setting the glass down. “Cullen,” she said simply.

    Both Varric and Hawke exchanged glances, and Hawke raised an eyebrow. “Cullen?” they echoed in unison.

    She sighed. “He almost caught me at the docks. White cloak, Rangers, everything. I didn’t think he’d be there, but apparently, the Templars decided to patrol the docks at just the wrong moment.”

    Varric chuckled, shaking his head. “And let me guess—you pulled a vanishing act?”

    “Not before getting my Rangers to cover for me,” she replied, her tone dry.

    Hawke laughed, leaning forward. “So, what now?”

    “Some of the Rangers are on their way here,” Ariana said, her voice turning serious. “I need a place for them to lay low until I can arrange something more permanent.”

    Varric nodded, already rising from his seat. “Say no more, pup. I’ll talk to Corff, make sure your people are taken care of. Back in a bit.” He grabbed his coat and headed out, leaving Ariana and Hawke alone.

    Hawke tilted her head, watching her closely. “You’re clearly starting something here, you sure you can keep this a secret from your devoted Templar?”

    “I… have no idea,” Ariana muttered, taking another sip of her drink.

    Before long, the door opened again, and Varric stepped back inside, followed by Valentina, Lamberto, and Linnea. Each of them pulled their hoods down, revealing tired but alert faces.

    Ariana stood, gesturing to them. “Discard the cloaks. We don’t need to draw more attention than we already have.”

    The three quickly complied, folding their cloaks and setting them aside. Once they were done, Ariana turned to Varric and Hawke. “Varric, Hawke, meet Valentina, Lamberto, and Linnea. They’re some of my top Rangers. Valentina will be handling recruitment, Lamberto will oversee training, and Linnea will be gathering intelligence.”

    Hawke gave them a friendly nod. “Impressive. You all seem well-versed in the art of staying unnoticed.”

    Valentina smirked. “It’s what we’re paid for.”

    Ariana crossed her arms, her tone turning more serious. “Were you followed?”

    Linnea shook her head. “No. We made sure of that. Though the Knight-Captain was… persistent.”

    “What exactly did he say?” Ariana asked, her gaze narrowing slightly.

    Valentina stepped forward with a smirk, arms crossed. “Oh, he wasn’t thrilled, let me tell you that. First, he noticed the cloak—hard not to—and immediately wondered why you left so quickly. He asked us directly, but I made it clear the Wolf doesn’t meet just anyone. Implied we were a group of Crows on a contract in Starkhaven.” She paused, her smirk growing. “He didn’t seem to appreciate the deflection.”

    Varric chuckled, shaking his head. “Poor Templar. You probably going to give him a sleepless night trying to figure that one out.”

    Ariana rolled her eyes. “More likely he’ll be angry that I slipped past him.” She glanced at Valentina. “Good work, though. We didn’t need him piecing anything together.”

    Varric leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “So, what’s the plan, pup? You’ve got your Rangers here, but I’m guessing this is more than just a simple visit.”

    Ariana glanced at her team, then back at Varric and Hawke. “The plan is to lie low for now. I’ll find somewhere for them to stay and start organizing. But first, I need to figure out how to get back to Cullen without making this whole thing look suspicious.”

    Hawke grinned. “Good luck with that. You’ve probably already got half the city wondering what you’re up to. I imagine the White Wolf doesn’t go unnoticed.”

    Ariana rolled her eyes, but a small smile tugged at her lips. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Hawke.”

    The group exchanged knowing looks, and for a brief moment, the tension in the room eased as the conversation turned to lighter topics. But Ariana’s mind remained focused on the tasks ahead, already piecing together the next steps.

  • Chapter 25 – A Divine Calling

    27 Firstfall – 13 Haring 9:33

    The journey to Val Royeaux took Ariana fifteen days, each mile giving her ample time to dwell on the mystery of the Divine’s letter. By the time she reached the glittering capital of Orlais, her curiosity had grown into a gnawing unease. The city itself was dazzling, every street alive with music, intrigue, and the ever-present Orlesian flair for drama. Yet, despite the vibrant atmosphere, Ariana couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. Even in the crowded streets, a subtle tension lingered, an ever-present reminder that nothing in Val Royeaux was as it seemed. By the time she reached her modest rented room, she knew she needed a plan. How exactly was she supposed to meet with the Divine without telling anyone? The letter had provided no instructions beyond arriving at the Grand Cathedral. But this was Val Royeaux, where appearances were everything, and every move could be a ploy.

    She sat on the edge of the bed, staring at her famous white fur-trimmed cloak draped neatly across the chair. The cloak had served her well in the past, a recognizable symbol that had inspired both fear and respect. Perhaps it will serve me again, she thought. Her plan was so absurdly simple that it bordered on reckless. No requests, no demands. She would simply walk into the Grand Cathedral—a silent enigma wrapped in white. The idea made her stomach twist. But what other choice did she have?

    As the sun dipped lower in the sky, Ariana made her way to the Grand Cathedral, the weight of her cloak both familiar and imposing. Her walk through Val Royeaux did not go unnoticed. Passersby paused to glance her way, murmurs rippling through the crowd as she passed. More than once, she caught snippets of conversation wondering aloud if she was the White Wolf. She kept her hood low, obscuring her face as she continued, her steps steady despite the growing unease curling in her chest.

    When she finally reached the towering cathedral doors, she hesitated. The sheer scale of the building was humbling—soaring spires and intricate carvings that seemed to pierce the heavens. The weight of history and faith pressed down on her as she pushed the doors open and stepped inside.

    The interior was as awe-inspiring as the rumors suggested—soaring ceilings, intricate stained glass that caught the fading sunlight, and a pervasive, reverent silence. The sheer size of it all threatened to make her feel small, but Ariana squared her shoulders, letting her reputation cloak her as effectively as the cloak on her back. She moved with deliberate ease to one of the pews, her hood still drawn low. Kneeling, she bowed her head, though her thoughts raced.

    What now? What if this doesn’t work? What if they don’t find me? Or worse… what if they do?

    Minutes stretched into what felt like hours, long enough for doubt to creep in. The weight of the space seemed to press harder against her, amplifying her every insecurity. This is ridiculous. What did I expect? That they’d sense my presence like some fabled hero? She resisted the urge to fidget, keeping her head bowed in feigned prayer.

    Then, a shadow fell over her. She looked up to see an attendant in Chantry robes, their expression neutral but their voice low and deliberate.

    “Are you the White Wolf?” they asked.

    Ariana nodded once, keeping her face partially obscured. Relief and curiosity warred within her, but she remained composed. The attendant inclined their head in acknowledgment. “Follow me.”

    She rose smoothly, her heart pounding faster as she trailed behind them. They weaved through grand halls, past lingering clerics and worshippers, and then into less traveled corridors. The air grew cooler, the noise of the cathedral fading into an eerie stillness. These halls were seldom used, their ornate designs cloaked in dust and silence.

    Her boots echoed faintly on the stone floors, each step amplifying the tension coiled in her chest. If this is a trap, I walked right into it, she thought grimly. But her instincts told her otherwise. The Divine wouldn’t summon her just to betray her—unless it wasn’t the Divine who sent the letter.

    Finally, they arrived at a modest door. The attendant stepped aside, opening it to reveal a small, windowless room. Quiet and unassuming, it was a stark contrast to the grandeur of the cathedral outside. But the figure within was anything but ordinary. Divine Justinia herself stood waiting, her serene presence radiating authority and calm.

    The attendant bowed deeply and then stepped back, closing the door behind them with a soft thud. Justinia motioned for Ariana to enter.

    “Thank you for coming,” the Divine said, her voice gentle yet commanding. “I have ensured we will not be disturbed.”

    Ariana lowered her hood, her sharp gaze meeting the Divine’s as she stepped fully into the room. She dipped her head slightly in respect, her voice steady despite her racing thoughts. “Your Holiness.”

    The Divine regarded her with quiet intensity, a faint smile touching her lips. “I trust your journey was not too taxing?”

    “It was… manageable,” Ariana replied carefully, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied Justinia. Her mind raced, searching for answers. Why me? What could you possibly need of me that no one else can provide?

    The Divine’s gaze didn’t waver, her calm presence filling the room. Whatever this was, Ariana realized, it wasn’t just a simple summons. It would change everything.

    ~~~

    The Divine regarded Ariana thoughtfully, her serene expression briefly flickering with something akin to surprise. “I must admit,” Justinia began, “I had not expected the White Wolf to be a woman. But that is no unwelcome revelation.” Her lips curved into a faint smile, her tone warm and inviting. “What shall I call you?”

    Ariana hesitated, her mind racing. Doesn’t sound right to stick with Wolf… do I tell her who I really am? Her hand flexed slightly at her side, a telltale sign of her inner turmoil. The weight of her name—Ariana Trevelyan—felt heavier now than it had in years. Would revealing it invite complications? Can I trust her? She glanced at the Divine, whose eyes seemed to pierce straight through her hesitation.

    Justinia, sensing her uncertainty, spoke again, her tone soft but firm. “Whatever you choose to share will remain between us. You have my word. Your secrets are safe here.”

    Ariana took a deep breath, her decision made. “To you, Your Holiness, I’m Ariana Trevelyan,” she said finally, meeting Justinia’s gaze. Her voice carried a steadiness she hadn’t expected.

    The Divine’s smile widened, and she let out a soft chuckle. “The famous rebel daughter of Bann Trevelyan of Ostwick,” she teased lightly. “It seems the Duke and Duchess of Markham had much to say on the subject. Enough, in fact, that word reached my ears.”

    Ariana groaned, her eyes rolling skyward. “Wonderful. Apparently, that is all anyone will ever say about me.”

    Justinia laughed, a sound that was surprisingly warm and genuine. “It seems you’ve left quite the impression, my dear. Though not all impressions are bad.” she said motioning for Ariana to sit.

    “I’m sure the Duke and Duchess would disagree,” Ariana muttered, a hint of humor in her exasperation.

    The tension in the room eased slightly, and Ariana found herself relaxing. She is far more human than I expected. The image she had built of the Divine as an untouchable, lofty figure began to soften, replaced by someone who seemed approachable, even personable. It was an unexpected comfort.

    After a moment of quiet, Justinia’s expression grew serious again, and Ariana straightened slightly in her seat, sensing the shift. “Ariana,” she began, “I summoned you here because there are tensions brewing, both familiar and unsettling. I believe you are well-acquainted with the conflicts between Templars and mages.”

    Ariana let out a dry laugh, her voice tinged with cynicism. “Conflicts between Templars and mages? That is hardly news, Your Holiness.”

    “True,” Justinia conceded, her voice calm. “But these are not merely the disagreements or power struggles of the past. There are… fractures forming. Dangerous ones. And though you operate primarily in Ferelden and parts of Orlais, I have concerns about Kirkwall.”

    Ariana’s brow furrowed. “Kirkwall?” The word carried a weight she hadn’t intended, but she quickly masked it. “What concerns?”

    Justinia leaned forward slightly, her tone dropping. “Rumors have reached me of the Rite of Tranquility being used far more often than it should be. I have made inquiries, sent Seekers to investigate, but they have turned up nothing.”

    Ariana frowned, her mind racing. Cullen never mentioned anything about that. Could he be… no… not him. She knew the Rite was a tool often spoken of in hushed, careful tones. “And you believe these rumors?”

    “I cannot ignore them,” Justinia said firmly. “There are also whispers about Knight-Commander Meredith. Her power in Kirkwall has grown significantly—far beyond what is customary for her position. I am not yet prepared to bring this to the Templar Order. But I fear what might happen if these whispers are true.”

    Ariana leaned back, her expression thoughtful. “That woman who makes ogres look like sunshine?” she chuckled softly, recalling what Varric had said. She had kept her distance from the Knight-Commander during her time in Kirkwall.

    The Divine raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching upward in a faint smile. “An… interesting description,” she replied with a touch of humor. “Though I suspect the Knight-Commander would not appreciate the comparison.”

    “Probably not.” Ariana said dryly, though her amused smile faded quickly. “What do you want me to do?”

    Justinia’s eyes met hers, unwavering. “I need you to observe and investigate the situation in Kirkwall. Focus on the use of the Rite of Tranquility, and whether it is, in fact, being overused. If the rumors are true, I may need your Rangers’ help to intercept mages destined for Kirkwall and ensure their safety.”

    Ariana’s stomach twisted. Intercepting mages. The implications struck her immediately. “You realize what you’re asking?” she pressed, her tone quiet but heavy with meaning.

    “I do,” Justinia replied solemnly. “But if the rumors are true, and if innocent mages are being subjected to Tranquility without cause, I cannot turn a blind eye. This must be stopped, but the Chantry cannot act directly without risking all-out war.”

    “Intercepting mages isn’t exactly subtle,” she said finally, her voice sharp. “If the Templars catch wind of this…” She let the sentence hang, knowing the consequences didn’t need to be spoken aloud.

    “That is why it must be you and the Rangers,” Justinia said, her voice calm but resolute. “If anyone can do this, it is you.”

    Ariana’s jaw tightened, her hazel-green eyes narrowing. “The Rangers make a convenient scapegoat if this goes wrong,” she said bitterly. “The White Wolf’s reputation makes it easy for people to believe whatever story the Templars decide to spin. You’re asking us to risk everything while you keep your hands clean.”

    “And if you succeed,” Justinia countered gently, “no one will know of the Chantry’s involvement, and countless lives will be spared. This is not about keeping my hands clean; it’s about ensuring the survival of those who cannot defend themselves.”

    So much for keeping things simple in Kirkwall, she thought grimly. “You’re asking us to save lives by staying invisible,” she murmured, her voice laced with both frustration and reluctant understanding. “Fine. But this shadow game of yours? It only works if they don’t catch on.”

    The Divine inclined her head in agreement. “And that is why I must trust you, White Wolf.”

    Ariana tilted her head slightly, her eyes narrowing. “Why do you believe I’ll find something where your Seekers did not?”

    Justinia sighed, a rare crack in her otherwise composed demeanor. “I trust the Seekers, but…” Her voice softened, tinged with regret. “Unfortunately, they are inclined to give the Templar Order the benefit of the doubt. If there’s a question about their behavior, unless it can be proven directly, they will assume any action taken is justified.”

    Ariana’s brow furrowed, her expression sharpening. “Are you suggesting they might have found the use of the Rite of Tranquility justified, even in cases where it wasn’t?” The alarm in her voice was barely hidden, and she could feel her pulse quicken. …Because those institutions are accountable, Ariana… Cullen’s words from their earlier argument resurfaced, haunting her thoughts. Yet what she was hearing now seemed to suggest that accountability wasn’t working—or was being deliberately ignored.

    “Perhaps.” Justinia’s voice remained calm, but her choice of words carried weight. “I am given to understand that Knight-Commander Meredith is very devout… and very persuasive.”

    Ariana cradled her face in her right hand, rubbing her temples as the implications settled in. Her thoughts kept circling back to Cullen, to what Varric had said when she first returned to Kirkwall: …he’s practically become the left hand of Meredith… The idea was maddening, even as she tried to push it aside.

    After a moment of heavy silence, Ariana took a deep breath, realizing she had been quiet for longer than intended. When she glanced up, she found the Divine watching her, patient but unyielding, allowing her the space to process the gravity of the situation.

    “We will need resources,” Ariana said, her voice measured but resolute. “And I will need information—all of it.”

    “You will have both,” Justinia promised.

    Ariana gave a single nod, the weight of the task settling firmly on her shoulders. With a slight bow of respect, she pulled her hood back up, the soft fabric shadowing her face once more. “Thank you, Your Holiness,” she said formally. As she turned to leave, she paused briefly at the door, glancing back at the Divine.

    “I will pray the rumors are wrong,” she said softly, though her voice carried the grim certainty that they weren’t.

    “As will I,” Justinia replied, her eyes following Ariana with a mixture of hope and regret as she disappeared into the shadowed halls beyond.

    ~~~

    Ariana walked through the winding streets of Val Royeaux, the chill of the night biting at her fingers even beneath her gloves. Her cloak billowed softly behind her, the white fur trim catching the flicker of lantern light. The city, alive with whispers of intrigue by day, was quieter now, though the occasional laughter or distant sound of music drifted through the air. She kept her hood low, her face shadowed, content to remain an enigma to those who might recognize the White Wolf.

    She wasn’t sure how long she had been walking, her thoughts still preoccupied with the Divine’s words, when a voice called out behind her.

    “Pardon, mademoiselle.”

    Ariana stopped, her hand instinctively brushing the hilt of her dagger as she turned. A young man in fine servant’s attire stood before her, bowing deeply. “Are you the White Wolf?” he asked, his voice polite but edged with urgency.

    Her hazel-green eyes narrowed beneath her hood. “That depends on who’s asking,” she replied evenly.

    The servant straightened, his expression unreadable. “My master, Comte Jourdain Mignard, humbly requests your presence. He has been awaiting you.”

    Ariana arched an eyebrow. “The Comte? Waiting for me? I don’t recall scheduling an audience.”

    The servant inclined his head. “The Comte has… expectations. He wishes to finalize certain business matters with the White Wolf directly.”

    The mention of business jogged her memory. One of the nobles Riley had mentioned—the ones demanding her personal appearance before paying. She sighed, already tired of Orlesian dramatics, but she had promised Riley she would handle this. “Very well,” she said, motioning for him to lead the way. “Show me to your master.”

    The servant led her through a maze of gilded streets, finally arriving at an elegant estate. The grandeur of the place didn’t surprise her; if anything, it fit her mental picture of the kind of man who would summon her like this. She was ushered into a grand salon, where Comte Mignard waited, a glass of wine in hand.

    The Comte turned as she entered, his sharp gaze appraising her. He was a tall man in his late forties, with neatly combed silver hair and the kind of effortless arrogance that seemed bred into Orlesian nobility. His expression shifted from polite curiosity to obvious intrigue as he took in the figure beneath the white cloak.

    “The White Wolf,” he said, his voice smooth and velvety. “And a woman, no less. I must admit, I had my doubts about whether you would come—or whether you were even real.”

    Ariana lowered her hood, her expression calm but sharp. “I was under the impression you had business to settle,” she said, her voice steady. “Shall we get to it?”

    The Comte smiled, swirling the wine in his glass. “Of course. But first…” His gaze lingered on her, a mixture of admiration and skepticism. “Forgive me, but your reputation precedes you, and I find myself wondering if you truly are the White Wolf. You must understand—words can be cheap. Actions, however…” He gestured lazily with his free hand.

    Ariana’s eyes narrowed. “And how, exactly, would you like me to prove it?”

    The Comte’s smile widened, his expression one of amusement. “A duel,” he said simply. “One of my chevaliers. If you are who they say you are, you will win. And should you succeed, I will be satisfied.”

    Ariana stared at him for a moment, incredulous. “You want me to fight your chevalier… to prove that I am who I say I am.”

    “Precisely,” the Comte said, as though it were the most reasonable request in the world. “A simple test of skill.”

    She shook her head, a small laugh escaping her. “Fine. But you may want to find a new chevalier after this.”

    The Comte clapped his hands, and a large man clad in finely crafted armor stepped forward. His stance was disciplined, his movements measured. Clearly trained—likely in the same rigorous style as Templars. Ariana assessed him quickly, her mind already strategizing.

    As the duel began, Ariana chose an unarmed stance, relying on her speed and agility. She dodged the chevalier’s strikes with fluid precision, each movement calculated to wear him down. His strength and training were impressive, but his heavy armor slowed him just enough for her to gain the upper hand.

    In a swift, decisive move, she disarmed him, knocking his sword to the ground. Before he could recover, she swept his legs out from under him, sending him sprawling. She planted a boot lightly on his chest, her breathing steady. “Satisfied?” she asked, her voice cool.

    The Comte clapped, clearly delighted. “Magnifique!” he exclaimed, rising from his seat. “You are everything they say and more, White Wolf. My apologies for doubting you.”

    Ariana stepped back, offering the chevalier a hand up. He accepted grudgingly, his pride visibly bruised, but he bowed in respect before retreating.

    The Comte approached her, his smile as smooth as his words. “You must stay for dinner,” he said, his tone leaving little room for argument. “It would be an honor to host someone of your… caliber.”

    Ariana hesitated but nodded, knowing it would be unwise to refuse outright. “Very well,” she said. “But no more tests.”

    The Comte laughed heartily. “Of course not, my dear. You’ve already proven yourself.”

    As she followed him toward the dining hall, Ariana couldn’t help but feel the weight of the Divine’s task pressing more heavily on her shoulders. This was only the beginning.

    ~~~

    Dinner was served in a lavish dining hall, every detail exuding wealth and elegance. The table was adorned with silver candelabras and fine porcelain, the food an array of decadent dishes that looked more like art than sustenance. Ariana sat across from the Comte, her posture poised yet relaxed. Despite her outward calm, her mind was already calculating how best to cut the evening short.

    The Comte watched her with an appraising gaze, his smile warm yet calculating. “Tell me, White Wolf,” he began, swirling his wine idly in his glass, “how does a woman of such… remarkable beauty come to be such a skilled mercenary?”

    Ariana took a sip of her own wine, her expression neutral. “Circumstances take you to strange places sometimes,” she replied smoothly. “Life has a way of teaching you what you need to survive.”

    The Comte nodded thoughtfully, his expression turning wistful. “Indeed, life is full of unexpected twists. Perhaps circumstances have brought you here for a reason.”

    Ariana raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued despite herself. “Oh? And what reason might that be?”

    The Comte set his glass down, leaning forward slightly, his voice lowering to a conspiratorial tone. “You see, my dear, my mistress recently departed Val Royeaux. A mutual decision, of course—amicable, really. But it has left me with a great deal of leisure time… and no one to share it with.”

    Ariana’s stomach tightened, though her expression remained composed. She could already see where this was headed, but she let him continue, her calm demeanor giving nothing away.

    “I find myself wondering,” he said, his tone smooth, his gaze lingering on her, “if perhaps circumstances have brought you to me. You are… captivating, my dear. A woman of your talents and allure could be… well, quite treasured. And, of course, I would be a most generous benefactor in return.”

    The insinuation hung in the air, the Comte’s words wrapped in Orlesian charm but unmistakable in their intent. Ariana was taken aback, though she hid it well, her lips curling into a polite smile as her mind raced. How do I leave this without making it more work than it needs to be?

    She set her wineglass down delicately, meeting his gaze with calm composure. “That is… a tempting offer,” she said carefully, her tone polite but noncommittal. “But I’m afraid my duties will take me far from Val Royeaux for quite some time. The White Wolf rarely stays in one place.”

    The Comte’s expression shifted to one of feigned disappointment, his hand pressing lightly to his chest in classic Orlesian dramatics. “Ah, how tragic,” he said with a theatrical sigh. “To meet such a fascinating woman, only to have her slip through my fingers. But, of course, I understand. Duty calls, as it always does.”

    Ariana inclined her head slightly, offering a polite smile. “I appreciate your understanding, Comte.”

    He waved a hand dismissively, his tone light once more. “Think nothing of it, my dear. Should you ever find yourself in Val Royeaux again, do not hesitate to call upon me. My door is always open to such… distinguished company.”

    “Of course,” Ariana said, rising gracefully from her seat. “Thank you for your hospitality, Comte. It has been… enlightening.”

    The Comte rose as well, bowing slightly as an aide retrieved her cloak. “The pleasure was all mine, White Wolf. May your travels be safe—and perhaps fate will see fit to bring us together again.”

    Ariana gave a faint smile, wrapping her cloak around her shoulders. “Good evening, Comte,” she said, her tone cool but polite. With that, she turned and exited the dining hall, her steps measured as she left the estate behind.

    As soon as she was outside, the cool night air hit her, and she let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. She pulled her hood up, her mind already pushing the encounter aside. There were far more pressing matters to deal with than the whims of an Orlesian nobles

    ~~~

    Ariana walked briskly through the cobblestone streets of Val Royeaux, the cool morning air tinged with the faint scent of roses and fresh bread. Despite the beauty around her, her thoughts were sour. Dealing with Orlesian nobility was always a test of patience, and today was no exception. She pulled her cloak tighter, muttering under her breath, “If I don’t handle this, Riley will never let me hear the end of it.”

    Her first destination was Le Masque du Lion, an exclusive establishment known for hosting Orlais’ most influential figures. The decor was an intricate tapestry of golds and deep reds, the air humming with hushed conversations and veiled intrigue. Lord Etienne de Grosbois awaited her in a private room, his gold-rimmed goblet nearly tipping onto his elaborately embroidered vest as she entered. His graying hair was slicked back, though a few rebellious strands curled at his temples.

    “Madame White Wolf,” he began, his tone dripping with condescension, “I confess myself puzzled. I paid handsomely for your services, and yet this is the first I lay eyes upon you. Am I not worthy of your esteemed attention?”

    Ariana folded her hands neatly in her lap, her expression unreadable save for the faintest hint of a smile. “Lord de Grosbois,” she replied, her voice smooth but firm, “your patronage is, of course, highly valued. However, the nature of my work requires that I delegate to those best suited for each task. Rest assured, your job—retrieving the artifacts lost in the Emerald Graves—has been assigned to my most skilled Rangers. Their success is all but guaranteed.”

    His lips tightened, but he nodded, mollified. “I trust your reputation will hold, then. Those artifacts are irreplaceable, and I expect results.”

    “You shall have them,” Ariana said with finality, her gaze unwavering.

    The meeting concluded with the necessary assurances, and Ariana excused herself. As she stepped back into the bustling streets of Val Royeaux, the cool air felt refreshing against her skin. Yet her work was far from over.

    Her next meeting took her outside the city, to the sprawling estate of Viscount Emile D’Ormont. The estate, with its pristine gardens and marble columns, exuded a lazy grandeur befitting its owner. The viscount received her in a sunlit parlor, lounging on an ornate chaise with a goblet of wine in hand. His easy smirk and relaxed posture belied the sharpness in his eyes as he regarded her.

    “My needs are not very exciting, I fear,” he drawled, eyes glinting with mischief. “An escort from Val Royeaux to Halamshiral in a month’s time. Surely the White Wolf can spare a moment of her schedule for a simple task?”

    Ariana’s smile grew a touch warmer, though her voice lost none of its precision. “Your safety, Viscount, is paramount. You will be accompanied by Rangers who excel in both discretion and combat. I will see to it personally that they are briefed on your journey.”

    D’Ormont chuckled. “Ah, I am fortunate indeed to have such protection. Perhaps I’ll even catch a glimpse of the White Wolf in action.”

    She inclined her head slightly. “Perhaps.”

    With the pleasantries concluded, Ariana rose, her posture regal yet fluid. “Viscount, it has been a pleasure. You have my word that your trust in the Silver Rangers is not misplaced.”

    He offered a shallow bow as she left, his smirk lingering. Once outside, Ariana allowed herself a quiet breath of relief. The games of Orlesian nobility were as tedious as they were dangerous, but at least they were done, for now.

    A short walk brought her to the docks, where the ship bound for Jader waited. The cold evening air smelled of brine and wood smoke, a welcome reprieve from the cloying perfumes of the salons and estates. Ariana ascended the gangplank, her mind already shifting from the demands of the nobles to the weightier matter of her meeting with the Divine.

    Justinia’s request echoed in her thoughts: observe and investigate the situation in Kirkwall. The Divine’s eyes had been steady, her voice gentle but unyielding. She meant what she had said to when they parted ways. She could only hope the rumors weren’t true because if they were she couldn’t even imagine what that would mean for her life there.

    Ariana leaned against the ship’s rail as it pulled away from the dock, the faint lights of Val Royeaux dwindling behind her. Relief warred with unease. She was eager to return to Redcliffe, to the familiar walls of the manor and the steady presence of her Rangers. Yet the Divine’s words lingered, casting long shadows over her thoughts.

    The ship cut through the dark waters, carrying her away from Orlais and toward a future fraught with uncertainty. Ariana’s grip tightened on the rail. The weight of duty pressed heavily on her shoulders, but her resolve was steadfast. Whatever awaited her in Kirkwall, she would face it as she always did—with precision, determination, and the quiet strength of a wolf in the shadows.

  • Chapter 24 – Back to the Rangers

    20 – 26 Firstfall 9:33

    Ariana and Elliot secured passage on a ship to West Hill early the next morning. As they boarded, Elliot’s nervous energy was palpable. He had barely slept the night before, and now his excitement and apprehension were bubbling over.

    “I still can’t believe it,” Elliot said, glancing at Ariana as they found a place to settle. “I’m traveling with the White Wolf. I mean, I didn’t think… well… I’d be doing this so soon.”

    Ariana couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm. She was only a few years older than him, but the wide-eyed awe in Elliot’s expression made the gap feel much larger. His nervous chatter and restless energy were endearing, a reminder of how much growing up he still had ahead of him.

    “You know,” she said teasingly, leaning back as the ship’s crew prepared to cast off, “I’m not nearly as exciting as the stories make me out to be.”

    Elliot shook his head, his auburn hair catching the sunlight. “That can’t be true,” he said earnestly, blue eyes bright with conviction. “You’re a legend. Everyone in Kirkwall talks about the White Wolf—the leader of the Silver Rangers, traveling across Ferelden and Orlais. People say you took on a horde of darkspawn single-handedly.”

    Ariana chuckled softly. “Well, people say a lot of things. Most of them are exaggerated. And for the record, I didn’t take on any hordes by myself.”

    He nodded, trying to absorb her words, but it was clear that the awe wasn’t going anywhere. She found his innocence refreshing. He was just a new recruit, eager to prove himself. Riley had hired him straight out of Kirkwall, and the fact that he had never even been to Ferelden only heightened his nerves.

    “I’ve heard Ferelden’s nothing like Kirkwall,” Elliot said as the ship set off. “It’s… greener, right? Less stone walls everywhere?”

    Ariana smiled, glancing out at the horizon. “It’s different,” she said. “You’ll see soon enough.”

    As the ship set off, Ariana took a moment to study Elliot, his restless energy making it impossible for him to sit still. She leaned back against the railing, letting the sea breeze play with her hair, and decided it was time to get to know him better.

    “So, Elliot,” she began, her tone light but curious, “why did you sign up to join the Rangers? It’s not exactly the easiest path to take.”

    Elliot glanced at her, startled for a moment, before shrugging sheepishly. “I guess… I just wanted to make a difference. Growing up in Lowtown, you see a lot of people who need help, and no one ever seems to step up. I don’t have family left—just a few friends—but none of them really understand why I’d want to leave. I guess… I don’t know. Maybe I just wanted to prove to myself that I could.”

    Ariana nodded thoughtfully, noting the flicker of determination behind his nervousness. “No family at all?” she asked, her voice softening.

    “My parents passed when I was little,” he admitted, his gaze dropping to the planks of the ship. “It was just me and my older brother for a while, but he… well, he got mixed up with the Coterie and didn’t make it out. After that, it was just me. I managed, though.”

    Her heart ached for him. She understood what it was like to lose family, though their circumstances were different. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly, her tone sincere.

    Elliot looked up, giving her a small, grateful smile. “Thanks. But that’s part of why I joined. I didn’t want to end up like my brother, or stuck in Lowtown doing nothing. I want to help people. Maybe even be someone people can look up to, the way people look up to you.”

    Ariana tilted her head, studying him. “It’s not an easy life, Elliot. There’s danger around every corner, and sometimes the people you’re trying to help don’t even want it.”

    He nodded earnestly. “I know. But it’s better than staying in Kirkwall and doing nothing. I’ve seen what happens when people don’t try, and I don’t want to live like that. But you and the Rangers? You actually do something. I wanted to be a part of that.”

    Ariana leaned against the railing, her gaze steady as she considered his words. “You’ve got a good heart, Elliot,” she said after a moment. “But good intentions only get you so far. What we do takes strength, focus, and sometimes making impossible choices. Are you ready for that?”

    He straightened, meeting her eyes with a resolve she hadn’t expected. “I know I’ve got a lot to learn,” he said firmly. “But I’m willing to try. Whatever it takes.”

    Her smile widened, a hint of pride creeping into her expression. “Good answer,” she said. “You’ll do just fine, Elliot.”

    He grinned, relief and determination lighting up his face. “Thanks, my Lady.”

    Ariana raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile tugging at her lips. “Wolf is fine,” she replied with mock sternness. “And let’s save ‘my Lady’ for someone who’s more comfortable in ball gowns.”

    Elliot chuckled, his posture relaxing slightly. “Noted… Wolf.”

    She laughed with him, the tension in the air lifting as the ship cut through the waves. As Ariana watched him, his enthusiasm and sincerity shining through, she couldn’t help but think he might just surprise her.

    ~~~

    As they rode through the countryside, Elliot’s nervous energy bubbled into curiosity. He leaned forward slightly in his saddle, glancing at Ariana with wide eyes. “So, how did the Silver Rangers get started? I mean, was it always the plan to create a mercenary group like this?”

    Ariana’s lips curved into a faint smile as she glanced at him. “Not exactly,” she said, her voice carrying a thoughtful tone. “It started during the Blight. There were sixteen of us, traveling with another mercenary group for safety. After a while, we realized that their way of doing things did not align with what we wanted for ourselves. So, we parted ways.”

    Elliot’s brow furrowed. “Why did you leave?”

    Ariana hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “We wanted something different,” she said vaguely. “It was clear we were not the right fit for their approach, and we needed to strike out on our own. So, the sixteen of us decided to travel together, just trying to survive.”

    “For how long?” Elliot asked, his curiosity undeterred.

    “Several months,” Ariana replied, her voice softening with a hint of nostalgia. “It was a hard time, but we were close, like a family. Eventually, though, we realized that we could do more than just survive. One night, sitting around a campfire, we decided it was time to try something bigger. We wanted to help more than just ourselves.”

    Elliot’s eyes widened. “And that’s when you became the Silver Rangers?”

    She nodded. “That night marked the beginning. We took on the name later, once we had enough of a foothold to make a real difference. At first, we just took contracts to get by—protection work, escorting goods, things like that. But as we built our reputation, we started choosing the kinds of jobs that aligned with what we wanted to stand for.”

    Elliot’s admiration was clear. “So, you went from just surviving to becoming… well, legends. That’s incredible.”

    Ariana smiled faintly, though her gaze was distant. “It took time. But we made a choice that night, and we have done our best to stick to it.”

    Elliot tilted his head. “What’s been the hardest part?”

    “Learning that doing the right thing is not always as clear-cut as you would like it to be,” Ariana said quietly. “Sometimes, there is no perfect solution—only the best you can do with the choices you are given.”

    Elliot nodded, absorbing her words. “It sounds like a lot of responsibility.”

    “It is,” she admitted. “But it is also worth it. Every time we help someone who thought no one would stand for them, it reminds me why we started this.”

    They rode in silence for a while, the sound of their horses’ hooves a steady rhythm on the dirt road. Elliot looked over at her, his expression filled with determination. “I’m glad to be part of this, even if I’m just starting out. I want to be someone who makes a difference too.”

    “You will,” Ariana said with quiet confidence. “You’ve already taken the first step.”

    Elliot smiled, his nervousness melting away into something steadier, and Ariana couldn’t help but feel a quiet pride in him. She turned her gaze back to the horizon, the familiar feeling of both hope and weight settling in her chest.

    ~~~

    It took just over a week of travel, through ship and land, to reach the Silver Rangers’ manor outside Redcliffe. By the time they arrived, Elliot was starting to grow accustomed to Ariana’s quieter demeanor, though his nervousness remained.

    As they approached the manor, Ariana could see that they had made quite a bit of progress on the renovations. Yet she felt a sense of familiarity and comfort wash over her. The faint hum of activity could already be heard, a blend of voices and the occasional clang of steel.

    Elliot trailed behind her, his pace slowing as his eyes darted around, clearly awestruck. “This is… wow,” he muttered, taking in the sight of the manor and the Rangers milling about. “It’s bigger than I imagined.”

    Ariana glanced back at him, unable to help a small smile at his wide-eyed expression. “It’s functional, not grand,” she said, her tone light. “But it’s home for a lot of us.”

    They crossed the courtyard, and Ariana spotted Riley emerging from the manor’s entrance. The lieutenant’s presence was hard to miss—her muscular frame, taller than most women, carried a weight of command. Her deep red hair was pulled back into a simple braid that fell between her shoulder blades, and her ivory skin bore a faint smattering of freckles across her nose. Dressed in practical leather armor that had clearly seen years of wear, she looked every bit the capable and battle-hardened leader Ariana relied on. Despite her rugged appearance, Riley’s dark green eyes sparkled with warmth as they landed on Ariana.

    “Wolf!” Riley called out, her voice gruff but tinged with genuine relief. She crossed the distance between them in a few strides, clapping a firm hand on Ariana’s shoulder. “Took you long enough. I was beginning to think I’d have to drag you back myself.”

    Ariana rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched into a smile. “I leave for a few weeks—”

    “Almost two months,” Riley interjected, her annoyance obvious.

    “Fine,” Ariana sighed dramatically. “Almost two months. But sending me a recruit is not what I meant by ‘send word.’ You knew that.”

    Riley smirked, arms crossed. “I did. But I also knew you’d never leave a fresh recruit to fend for himself. You’d bring him back here, and look, here you are.”

    “That is not the point, Riley,” Ariana replied, trying to sound stern but failing to suppress a grin. “I meant send a message—parchment, ink. Not an entirely new Ranger.”

    “And I meant to get you back here as quickly as possible,” Riley shot back, her grin widening. “It worked, didn’t it?”

    Ariana rolled her eyes, exasperated but amused. “Maker, why do I put up with this.”

    Riley clapped a hand on her shoulder again, her tone softening. “Welcome back, Wolf. We missed you.”

    Finally noticing Elliot standing awkwardly nearby, Ariana gestured toward him. “Speaking of, this is Elliot. Your new recruit. Happy training!”

    Riley turned her sharp gaze on the young man, sizing him up. “So you’re the kid I hired,” she said, her tone a mix of scrutiny and curiosity. “You hold up alright on the road?”

    Elliot straightened his posture, trying his best to look confident. “Yes, ma’am. The White Wolf—uh, Wolf—looked after me.”

    Riley’s expression softened slightly as she glanced back at Ariana, a knowing look in her eyes. “She tends to do that. Well, welcome to the Rangers, Elliot. You’ve got a lot to learn, but we’ll see what you’re made of.”

    Elliot smiled, clearly relieved to have passed whatever unspoken test this exchange was. Ariana shook her head, muttering under her breath. “I’m running a traveling recruitment service now…”

    “You’re welcome,” Riley quipped, grinning.

    ~~~

    As Ariana and Riley entered her quarters, the familiar scent of leather and wood greeted her. The room was simple but comfortable—practical, like everything else in the manor. A small desk sat tucked into the corner, accompanied by a modest cot and a sturdy trunk at the foot of the bed. The soft crackle of the fireplace warmed the room, pushing back the lingering chill from the outside air.


    Riley couldn’t help but notice the shift in Ariana as they walked into her quarters. There was something lighter about her, something that hadn’t been there before. She had known Ariana for years now—fought beside her, trusted her with her life—and yet, this was the first time she could say that Ariana truly looked happy. There was a radiance in her, a spark Riley hadn’t seen even during their rare moments of victory.

    “I found him, Riley,” Ariana said, her voice soft but brimming with emotion. “I finally found him.”

    Riley blinked in surprise. “Wait… your friend? The one from before the Blight?”

    Ariana nodded, her expression almost dreamy. “He was in Kirkwall all along. He’s a Knight-Captain now.”

    Riley’s eyebrows shot up. “So, he really was a Templar,” she said, her tone light but tinged with realization. “I knew it.”

    Ariana tilted her head, raising an eyebrow. “You knew?”

    “Wolf,” Riley began with a knowing smirk, “the first thing you did when we escaped was drag us to the Lake Calenhad docks. There’s not much there except the Circle. So, it was either a Templar or a mage. And let’s be honest—you’re not exactly the ‘Circle-mage pen pal’ type.”

    Ariana chuckled, shaking her head. “Always watching, aren’t you?”

    “Always,” Riley replied, her tone teasing but sincere.

    As Ariana sat on the edge of her bed, recounting her time in Kirkwall, Riley listened with a mix of curiosity and amusement. The way Ariana spoke about Cullen, the faint smile that tugged at her lips every time his name came up—it all made sense now. Riley had never seen Ariana drawn to anyone before, not like this. And now she understood why.

    She leaned against the wall, crossing her arms. “But seriously… he’s not just a ‘friend,’ is he?”

    Ariana met her gaze, holding it for a moment before her smile widened, soft and unguarded. “No. He’s so much more than that. He’s… the part of me I never knew was missing.”

    For once, Riley was at a loss for a clever remark. She only smiled, nodding as Ariana continued to fill her in on the last two months. When Ariana described her mother’s dramatic entrance with the mercenaries, Riley couldn’t help but laugh.

    “Wait—she actually brought mercenaries to drag you back?” Riley asked, incredulous. “You are trouble.”

    “Oh, she tried,” Ariana said, grinning. “But Cullen handled it. Honestly, watching her realize she couldn’t intimidate him was worth every second.”

    “And what were you doing while he was ‘handling’ it?” Riley asked, her tone teasing. “Sipping tea?”

    “I was unarmed, it seemed to make him happy to handle it,” Ariana shot back, though her grin didn’t falter. “Besides, it’s nice to let someone else take care of things once in a while.”

    Riley smirked, shaking her head. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

    Before she could press further, a knock at the door interrupted them. Riley called out, “Enter,” and a young ranger stepped inside, carrying a large trunk.

    “Your belongings, Wolf,” the ranger said, setting the trunk down with a respectful nod before leaving.

    Riley arched an eyebrow, her gaze shifting to the ornate trunk. “Did some shopping in Kirkwall?” she asked, her tone dripping with mock suspicion.

    “It’s just a change of clothes,” Ariana replied casually, though her expression betrayed her amusement.

    “Uh-huh.” Riley crouched by the trunk, running her fingers over the polished wood. “Because you’ve always needed this many clothes. This isn’t like you, Wolf.”

    Ariana hesitated, then sighed. “Alright, fine. I might have bought a few things. But it’s all practical.”

    “Practical,” Riley repeated, her smirk widening as she eyed Ariana’s new armor. “Is that why you’re wearing that fancy set? Because it looks very… practical.”

    Ariana rolled her eyes, though a faint blush crept into her cheeks. “Can we move on now?” she said, her tone exasperated but playful.

    “Alright, alright,” Riley said, straightening up and folding her arms. “So, what do you want to hear first? The nobles or the Chantry?”

    Ariana leaned back against the desk, her arms crossed. “Let’s start with the nobles. Did anything go wrong with the jobs?”

    “No,” Riley replied, her tone shifting to something more serious. “The work was flawless, as always. But these nobles…” She rolled her eyes. “Maker save me, Wolf, they refuse to pay until the White Wolf ‘himself’ makes an appearance. They claim they paid for the best, and they want to see the best in person.”

    Ariana groaned, rubbing her temples. “Orlesian dramatics. Of course.”

    “Right?” Riley said with a wry grin. “So, what’s the plan? You going to humor them? Fancy new gear and all?”

    Ariana sighed, shaking her head. “Yes, fine. Just give me the names, and I’ll add ‘babysitting Orlesian egos’ to my itinerary.”

    “Good,” Riley said, visibly relieved. “They’ll be easier to handle if they meet you.”

    “And the Chantry?” Ariana asked, her voice steady but curious.

    Riley’s expression shifted, her smirk softening into something more serious. “That’s where it gets… interesting.” She pulled a sealed letter from her belt and held it out to Ariana. “This is what I didn’t tell you in my message. It’s not just any letter, Wolf. It’s from Divine Justinia herself.”

    Ariana froze, her breath catching as her eyes locked onto the wax seal. Slowly, she reached out, her fingers brushing over the Chantry’s insignia. “The Divine,” she murmured, her voice quiet but filled with the weight of realization.

    Riley gave her a moment before speaking. “Whatever it’s about, it’s big. And knowing the Divine, she’s not the type to waste time on pleasantries.”

    Ariana nodded, breaking the seal with careful hands. As she unfolded the letter, the crackling of the fire seemed louder, the room falling into an expectant silence. Whatever awaited her in those words, one thing was clear—this trip to Orlais was about to become far more complicated.

    ~~~

    To the Esteemed White Wolf,

    Word of the Silver Rangers’ deeds has reached me for some time now. It is said your company has become a force for good in these troubled times, bringing aid where others cannot or will not. Your efforts have not gone unnoticed, particularly your willingness to extend a hand to those who walk difficult paths—mages seeking refuge and Templars abandoned to dangerous fates. 

    Your actions have shown a rare balance of strength and compassion, qualities I find lacking in many who claim to serve a higher cause. It is this reputation that compels me to reach out to you now. 

    A situation is developing, one that requires the aid of an outsider—someone free from the ties of the Chantry, the Seekers, or the Templars. I must be cautious, as even the most trusted circles may have ears in places they should not. I cannot risk the details of this matter falling into the wrong hands. 

    I ask that you come to the Grand Cathedral in Val Royeaux with haste. There, I will explain the gravity of what is at stake. Rest assured, this is no small task I ask of you. Should you choose to take up this matter, know that your efforts will not only help those in need but may shape the fate of many. 

    I await your arrival, White Wolf. May the Maker guide your path. 

    -Divine Justinia V

    Ariana leaned against the desk, the Divine’s letter still in her hands. She reread the words, her brow furrowing deeper with every pass. No matter how many times she went over it, the meaning remained elusive. Why would the Divine need an outsider for such a task? The Rangers had garnered a reputation for helping both mages and Templars, but this felt far beyond anything they’d encountered before. Every possible scenario ran through her mind, but none provided clarity.

    Riley, leaning casually against the edge of the desk, watched her friend with a sharp, discerning gaze. “You’re going to burn a hole through that parchment if you keep glaring at it like that,” she said, her tone laced with dry humor.

    Ariana sighed and handed the letter back to Riley. “Read it for yourself. Maybe you can make more sense of it than I can.”

    Riley took the letter, her lips pressing into a thin line as her eyes skimmed the elegant script. Ariana stayed quiet, observing her friend’s reaction. The subtle tension in Riley’s jaw and the flicker of unease in her expression told her enough.

    When Riley finally lowered the letter, she looked at Ariana and quirked an eyebrow. “You know, Wolf, maybe you should’ve done more shopping. If you’re meeting the Divine herself, you’ll need more than just fancy new armor.”

    Ariana smirked, leaning back in her chair. “Aren’t you glad I picked up a few things now?” she teased, gesturing toward the neatly packed gear by the door.

    “Sure,” Riley said, her tone light but her eyes still serious. “But you might want to toss in that famous white fur cloak of yours. You’ll want something dramatic. Orlesians love a bit of flair.”

    Ariana rolled her eyes but laughed. “And here I thought I’d left all the dramatics behind.”

    Riley placed the letter on the desk and crossed her arms. “What do you think she really wants, Wolf? She mentions mages, Templars… but she’s careful. Too careful. Whatever this is, it’s not something she wants written down.”

    “I don’t know,” Ariana admitted, standing and beginning to pace. “It could be political, or it could be something much worse. Whatever it is, she’s keeping it vague for a reason. And I don’t like walking into a situation blind.”

    “Careful or paranoid,” Riley mused, watching her pace. “But let’s be honest—she’s not wrong to worry. We’ve seen how fragile trust is these days.”

    Ariana stopped pacing and turned to face Riley, her decision made. “I’ll leave first thing in the morning. Have someone take care of my horse and make sure it’s ready to travel.”

    Riley nodded, already making mental notes. “Consider it done. And Wolf…” Her tone softened, a rare moment of vulnerability breaking through her usual stoicism. “Watch your back. Orlais has its dangers, even without whatever mess the Chantry is dragging you into.”

    “I know,” Ariana replied, her voice steady, though a flicker of unease passed through her eyes. “I’ll send word as soon as I can.”

    Riley smirked, crossing her arms as she leaned against the desk again. “If you don’t, I’ll just hire a fresh recruit out of Orlais and send them after you.”

    Ariana couldn’t help but laugh, shaking her head. “You would, wouldn’t you?”

    Riley grinned. “I would.”

    With that, the tension eased just slightly. As Ariana began organizing her thoughts for the journey ahead, she felt a flicker of reassurance. Whatever awaited her in Val Royeaux, she knew she had people she could trust to keep things together in her absence.

  • Chapter 23 – A Web of Lies

    17-19 Firstfall 9:33

    Cullen paced his quarters that night, the quiet hum of the Gallows doing little to settle the restlessness in his chest. The conversation with Ariana replayed in his mind like a broken refrain, her words carrying a weight he hadn’t fully anticipated. 

    Her defense of the Silver Rangers had been fierce—almost personal. He had expected some disagreement, given her independent streak, but this went deeper. There was conviction in her voice, a fire that hinted at something beyond mere opinion. Was it really just based on one encounter? Or had those mercenaries meant far more to her than she let on? 

    He ran a hand over his face, his thoughts drifting back to the night outside The Hanged Man. That had been the first time he’d seen her truly tested in Kirkwall, and she had surprised him. No, shocked him. When her mother had arrived with mercenaries in tow, Cullen had expected panic, the kind of fear he’d seen from her before—like the day Michael had found her in Ferelden. Then, she had run, her instincts clearly shaped by fear. 

    But outside the Hanged Man, there had been no panic. No hesitation. She had stood her ground, her expression a mask of cold defiance. Her gaze wasn’t fearful; it was calculating. He recognized that look—it was the same one he wore in battle. She had assessed the mercenaries with precision, noting their positions, their weapons, their weaknesses. 

    Cullen shuddered slightly at the memory. Where had she learned that? He had taught her some of it, sure, back when they trained together near Lake Calenhad, but this… This was something else. This was someone who had survived the unthinkable. 

    The Blight. 

    Seventeen years old, alone, in the middle of Ferelden, with darkspawn crawling over the land. He had heard stories of hardened soldiers who hadn’t made it through the Fifth Blight, men and women who had fallen to despair or worse. And yet, she had survived. By all rights, it should have been impossible. 

    Cullen stopped pacing, his hands resting on the edge of the desk. He knew better than to press her for details—whatever memories she carried from those years were likely dark and painful. Still, he felt a gnawing need to understand. Who was she now? What had those years carved into her? 

    Did she even need his protection anymore? 

    The thought unsettled him, though he quickly brushed it aside. Whether she needed him or not wasn’t the point. He wanted to be there for her, to protect her, even if she didn’t ask for it. But how could he protect someone whose strength he couldn’t fully comprehend? 

    Maybe she could use a sparring partner again… 

    The idea came suddenly but settled quickly. Sparring had been their connection once, a way to prepare her for the dangers of the traveling alone, yes, but also something that brought them closer. Training her had been a privilege, and those mornings near Lake Calenhad had been some of the brightest moments during the darkest times. 

    It would also ease his mind to see how she fought now. If she was still as fast as she had been, she’d provide a challenge unlike any of the recruits or Templars he trained. And perhaps, selfishly, he wanted to see her in that element again—to remind himself of how far they had come since those days. 

    Yes, he decided, that would be his way in. He would offer to train with her again. Not to undermine her strength but to honor it, to learn more about the person she had become. And, if he was honest, it was as much for him as it was for her. 

    Cullen glanced at the pendant resting against his chest, the one Ariana had given him all those years ago. It had been his anchor through so many trials, a reminder of her resilience, her light. 

    Tomorrow, he would ask her. Whether it was for her sake or his, he wasn’t entirely sure. But he would ask. And maybe, just maybe, it would bring them closer to understanding each other.

    ~~~

    Ariana sat in the kitchen that morning, her fingers idly tracing the rim of her tea cup. The warmth of the mug did little to ease the lingering ache in her chest. She couldn’t shake the weight of the conversation from the night before, the sting of Cullen’s words still fresh in her mind. She had known he wouldn’t fully understand the Rangers, but the depth of his distrust had caught her off guard. And the way he had spoken of the White Wolf… 

    She sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. 

    “So, it didn’t go well, then?” Isabel’s voice broke through her thoughts, calm but perceptive. 

    Ariana glanced up, startled by the interruption, but the concern in Isabel’s gaze softened her. “No,” she admitted, her voice quieter than she intended. “Not really. He seems to dislike mercenaries in general, but the White Wolf… He made it clear he doesn’t trust them. He thinks I’m hiding something. That I can’t be trusted.” 

    Isabel set down the loaf of bread she’d been slicing and leaned against the counter, her expression thoughtful. “Well, to be fair, you are hiding something,” she said gently. “You’re hiding yourself.” 

    Ariana winced at the truth in her words. “I never meant to hide,” she began, the sadness in her tone betraying her defenses. “The White Wolf became more than just a name. It became a symbol, and symbols… they matter.” She paused, her thoughts drifting. “A lot of people in Ferelden know that Ariana Trevelyan leads the Rangers. The White Wolf didn’t always exist.” 

    Isabel nodded, her tone soft as she asked, “So, what are you going to do?” 

    Before Ariana could answer, a knock echoed from the front door, followed by the sound of it opening. She and Isabel exchanged a glance of confusion—Ariana hadn’t been expecting anyone. 

    Moments later, Cullen appeared in the doorway. He wasn’t in his usual armor; instead, he wore a simple training outfit, a pack slung over his shoulder. 

    “Cullen,” Ariana said, standing as a smile formed on her lips. Relief flooded through her at the sight of him, her heart lifting despite her earlier frustration. “I wasn’t expecting you. What are you doing here?” 

    “I hope I’m not intruding,” Cullen began, stepping into the room. His tone was hesitant, almost uncertain, and Ariana tilted her head slightly, curiosity piqued. 

    “You’re not,” she replied, her voice warm. “Is something wrong?” 

    “Not wrong, exactly,” Cullen said, shifting his weight as if unsure how to proceed. “I came to ask a favor.” 

    “A favor?” Ariana’s brows knit together, her curiosity deepening. “Of course, anything.” 

    “I was wondering if you’d consider…” Cullen hesitated, his voice growing quieter. “Becoming my sparring partner again.” 

    Ariana blinked, surprised by the request. Of all the things she’d expected, this hadn’t even crossed her mind. She studied him for a moment, noting the slight awkwardness in his posture, the way he scratched the back of his neck like he always did when he was nervous. 

    Her smile widened, her brow arching playfully. “You want me to train with you?” 

    Cullen nodded, though he still looked unsure of himself. “Since becoming Knight-Captain, I’ve had little time—and no suitable partners—to keep my own skills sharp. My duties keep me behind a desk more than I’d like, and it wouldn’t exactly be proper to spar with the Templars under my command.” 

    The corner of Ariana’s mouth quirked upward as a familiar memory surfaced. “So, you need me to keep you sharp?” she teased, echoing the words she had once said to him during their training days near Lake Calenhad. 

    Cullen chuckled, the sound easing some of the tension in the room. “Something like that,” he admitted. “So… what do you say?” 

    Ariana hesitated for only a moment before nodding. “Very well,” she said, standing. “Let me get changed, and I’ll meet you in the courtyard.” 

    As she left the kitchen, she felt a flicker of excitement stir within her. She hadn’t sparred with Cullen in years, but the prospect of it brought a rush of fond memories—their early mornings by the lake, the sound of blades clashing, the quiet camaraderie they had shared. Perhaps this was a chance to reconnect with those moments, to remind themselves of who they had been before the world grew heavier. 

    ~~~

    When Ariana came down a few minutes later, she was a sight Cullen couldn’t have prepared for. Her outfit was strikingly simple yet undeniably commanding—a fitted leather bodice, sleeveless, with intricate stitching that hinted at Elven craftsmanship. The trousers she wore hugged her form, accentuating the clear definition of her muscles, honed and sculpted through years of rigorous training. Her dual belts held an array of pouches and sheaths, though today she carried only the wooden training sword Cullen had handed her. She rolled her neck casually, the faint crack audible in the quiet courtyard, before fixing him with a teasing smirk.

    “Well, Knight-Captain, what is it you need from me? What did you have in mind for today?” Ariana’s voice was light, playful, but her eyes held a glimmer of challenge.

    Cullen cleared his throat, still somewhat taken aback by her appearance. She was beautiful, of course, but it was the strength in her presence that struck him most. This wasn’t the same girl he’d trained by Lake Calenhad all those years ago. Her athletic build had always been evident, but now… now her movements spoke of refined skill, each motion controlled and purposeful.

    “I was thinking we could start with some basics,” he said, handing her the training sword. “It’s been a long time, after all.”

    Ariana nodded, taking the sword and giving it a few experimental swings. “Very well,” she said, her smirk growing wider. “But I won’t go easy on you.”

    The sparring began simply enough. Cullen tested her defenses with basic strikes, and she responded with swift parries, her movements fluid and precise. At first, he held back, his strikes measured to reacquaint her with the rhythm of combat. But as the minutes passed, it became clear that she didn’t need to reacquaint herself with anything. Her footwork was impeccable, her dodges almost too fluid, and her counters sharp and deliberate.

    Cullen increased the pace, his strikes coming faster, heavier. But Ariana adapted effortlessly, her speed outmatching his strength. She ducked under a sweeping blow, her movements like water flowing around him, and retaliated with a quick jab that would have caught him had he not blocked just in time.

    “You’ve improved,” he said, breathless but impressed. His tone held no small measure of respect.

    “You’re stronger than I remember,” Ariana replied, her voice steady despite the exertion. “But strength alone won’t win this.”

    Their sparring intensified. Cullen’s strength drove her back several steps, but she used the momentum to spin out of his reach, her agility allowing her to regain the advantage. Her strikes were quick, calculated, and always aimed to exploit an opening. Cullen found himself wondering who had trained her to this level. Her skills were far beyond what he had taught her. It was clear her time surviving the Blight had forged her into a formidable fighter, but this… this level of precision and strategy couldn’t be self-taught.

    She moved like a shadow, her attacks swift and unpredictable. It was almost as if she could read his intentions before he acted. Each time he pressed forward, she slipped past his defenses, her wooden blade tapping his side or wrist with disconcerting ease. He gritted his teeth, pushing himself harder, determined to break through her defenses.

    Then, something shifted. Her movements faltered for the briefest of moments, her stance loosening as she hesitated mid-step. It was subtle, but Cullen’s trained eye caught it immediately. He didn’t waste the opportunity. With a quick, decisive strike, he knocked her sword from her hand and used his momentum to sweep her legs out from under her.

    Ariana hit the ground with a soft thud, and before she could recover, Cullen pinned her down, his forearm resting firmly but gently across her collarbone. Their faces were inches apart, both of them breathing heavily from the exertion.

    “Got you,” Cullen said, a small, triumphant smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

    Ariana laughed, her voice rich and unrestrained. “Alright, you win this round,” she admitted, though her grin betrayed no real defeat. She lay there for a moment, her eyes meeting his, and Cullen found himself caught in the intensity of her gaze. There was something there—something unspoken yet undeniable.

    Before he could dwell on it, Ariana reached up, her hands curling around the back of his neck. Without warning, she pulled him down and kissed him, her lips warm and insistent against his. For a moment, Cullen froze, his mind blanking under the weight of the sudden, electrifying contact. But then he responded, his lips moving against hers with a fervor that surprised even him.

    When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathless, their eyes locked in a silent exchange. Cullen helped her to her feet, his hand lingering on hers for just a moment longer than necessary.

    “Breakfast is ready,” Isabel’s voice called from the doorway, her tone laced with amusement. Cullen and Ariana turned to see her standing there, one eyebrow raised in a knowing expression.

    Ariana’s cheeks flushed, but she quickly composed herself, brushing the dust off her trousers. “Perfect timing, as always,” she quipped, shooting Isabel a playful glare.

    Cullen chuckled, his own face slightly red as he grabbed their training swords and followed Ariana back into the house. As they walked, his thoughts lingered on the match, on the way she had moved, on the moment she had hesitated. There was so much he still didn’t know about her, so many questions left unanswered. But one thing was clear—he wanted to know more. About her past, her present, and perhaps, their future.

    ~~~

    The next day, Ariana found herself in The Hanged Man. Frustrated. She leaned back in her chair, massaging her temples as she tried to process the situation. “I need a valid reason to go to Ferelden, Varric. I need a job,” she said, her tone clipped with frustration. The conversation with Cullen still weighed on her. His reaction to the mere idea of mercenaries made it clear—he wasn’t ready to hear the truth. And if she wasn’t ready to tell him, she had to find another way to justify her trip.

    Varric leaned back, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow. “And you think Cullen’s going to buy that I, of all people, specifically need you to go to Ferelden for… my business dealings? Come on, pup, you’ve heard yourself, right?”

    “Varric, I’m not here for your commentary; I need solutions,” she snapped, though there was no real heat in her voice. “There has to be something.”

    He sighed and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “There is something: just tell him the truth. It’s a novel concept.”

    Ariana shot him a glare, her hands gripping the edge of the table. “You didn’t see his reaction the other night, Varric. I can’t. At least not yet. Maybe… eventually. If I can show him the Rangers aren’t just any mercenary group.”

    “And by the time you do, he’ll be upset because you lied to him,” Varric pointed out, his voice level but firm. “Ever think about that, pup?”

    “Ugh!” Ariana groaned, letting her head fall dramatically onto the table.

    The moment was interrupted by a hesitant voice from the doorway. “Excuse me, Ser Varric Tethras?”

    Varric’s expression darkened, his tone wary. “Who’s asking?”

    The young man in the doorway shifted awkwardly, barely older than seventeen. “I… I have a message for the White Wolf, Ser. My orders were to deliver it here.”

    Ariana froze, her mind racing. The words sounded louder than they should have, echoing in her ears. She turned to glance at the open door, her heart sinking at the potential exposure. “Come in and close the door,” she said firmly, gesturing for him to hurry. She couldn’t afford for anyone else at the Hanged Man to overhear. The door creaked shut behind him as the messenger stepped inside.

    “Whose ‘orders’ are you under?” Ariana asked, her tone sharper than she intended.

    The boy shifted nervously, unsure whether he should answer. “Uh… my lieutenant, m’lady,” he stammered.

    Ariana sighed, dragging a hand over her face. “Maker… I told her to send a message, not a person,” she muttered to herself, irritation flickering across her features.

    “You mean Lieutenant Riley?” she asked, watching his reaction.

    The boy blinked, surprise flashing across his face before he nodded quickly.

    “What’s your name, kid?” Varric cut in, his tone more casual but no less curious.

    “Elliot, sir,” the boy replied.

    Ariana tilted her head, studying him. “Tell me, Elliot… are you a messenger, or a new recruit?” She already had a strong suspicion but needed him to confirm it.

    Elliot’s mouth opened and closed, his words tumbling out in an incoherent mess as he tried to find the right answer. Ariana sighed and held up a hand to stop him. The realization hit her—he didn’t even know who she was.

    “Elliot,” she said, her voice gentler now, “you can give me the message first, then answer my question. I’m Wolf. And judging by the fact you’re here, I’m guessing you work for me, right?”

    The boy’s eyes widened, and he straightened immediately, his right fist flying to his chest in a salute. “I apologize, my l—”

    “Take a breath and sit down,” Ariana interrupted, cutting off the formalities before they could spiral further. She gestured to the chair across from her, trying to ease the nervous tension radiating off him.

    Elliot hesitated but eventually obeyed, sitting stiffly at the table. Varric leaned back, watching the exchange with interest, while Ariana reached for her glass of water, taking a long sip to steady herself.

    “Alright, Elliot,” she said, her tone calm and measured. “Let’s hear it.”

    ~~~

    Ariana leaned forward, her elbows resting on the table as Elliot nervously fumbled with a folded piece of parchment. Finally, he placed it on the table in front of her. She glanced at Varric, who gave her a small nod of encouragement, then unfolded the message.

    Elliot cleared his throat. “Lieutenant Riley said to tell you… uh… we need you back, my lady. There’s been… complications.”

    Ariana’s brow furrowed as she read the parchment, Riley’s familiar scrawl jumping out at her. “Complications?” she echoed, her tone sharper than she intended. She quickly softened it, glancing up at Elliot. “Go on.”

    “Um… the nobles in Orlais,” Elliot continued, visibly relieved she wasn’t angry. “They’re refusing to work with us unless they meet with… the White Wolf directly. Lieutenant Riley says they won’t listen to anyone else.”

    Ariana sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of her nose. Of course, Orlesian nobles would make things difficult.

    “That’s not all,” Elliot added hesitantly, clearly uncomfortable. “We… we also got a message from the Chantry. They’re asking to meet with you as well.”

    Ariana froze, her eyes snapping up to meet his. “The Chantry?” she repeated, her voice laced with disbelief.

    “Yes, my lady,” Elliot confirmed, nodding quickly. “Lieutenant Riley said it seemed… important.”

    Varric, who had been quietly observing, leaned forward. “The Chantry, huh? That’s not the kind of request you ignore, pup. Any idea what they want?”

    Ariana shook her head, her mind racing. “No, but I can’t imagine it’s anything good. The Chantry doesn’t usually reach out to mercenary companies unless they’re looking for something… or someone.”

    She sat back in her chair, running a hand through her hair as she mulled over the situation. The nobles in Orlais were one thing, but the Chantry? That was a completely different level of complication.

    “So, what’s the plan?” Varric asked, his tone casual but his eyes sharp.

    Ariana let out a slow breath, folding the parchment back up and setting it aside. “I’ll go back. I don’t have much of a choice, do I? If the nobles won’t cooperate and the Chantry is involved, I need to know what’s happening.”

    “Any idea what you’ll tell Cullen?” Varric pressed, leaning back in his chair with a knowing look.

    Ariana hesitated, glancing at Elliot, who was still sitting stiffly across from her. “I’ll figure it out,” she said finally, her voice firm. “One step at a time.”

    Varric raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further. Instead, he turned to Elliot. “Alright, kid. You’ve done your part. Go grab yourself something to eat. Tell Corff it’s on me.”

    Elliot blinked in surprise, then nodded quickly. “Thank you, Ser Tethras. My lady.” He stood, saluting Ariana once more before scurrying out of the room.

    As the door clicked shut behind him, Varric turned back to Ariana. “You know this is only going to get messier, right?”

    “I know,” she said, her voice heavy with resignation. Ariana leaned back in her chair, staring at the folded parchment as though it carried the weight of the entire world. “Varric, now I really need those reliable methods of communication.”

    Varric, arms crossed, leaned against the edge of the table, his expression thoughtful. “I figured as much, pup. I’ll start asking around.”

    “Find me someone who trains messenger birds,” Ariana continued, rubbing her temples as if trying to ward off the incoming headache. “The kind that can handle long distances—Ferelden to Orlais, Orlais to Kirkwall. I’ll…” She trailed off, exhaling a sharp breath. “I’ll sort out the rest… hopefully without piling on too many lies.”

    Varric gave her a pointed look, his tone half-serious, half-teasing. “Pup, you already have enough to coordinate, adding a pile of lies to that mix might make even the best messenger birds quit.”

    She managed a weak smile, appreciating his attempt to lighten the mood. “Noted. But the truth… it’s just not something I’m ready to share. Not yet.”

    “Fair enough,” Varric conceded, straightening up. “I’ll get on it. But pup,” he added, his tone softening, “don’t wait too long to figure out how much of yourself you’re willing to keep hidden. Lies have a way of catching up with you.”

    Ariana nodded, her eyes drifting back to the letter. “I know,” she whispered.

    ~~~

    Ariana headed back to the estate, her thoughts swirling as she began pulling together what she needed for the journey. The act of packing should have been a distraction, but it only deepened her anxiety. What would she say to Cullen? She knew she couldn’t avoid the truth forever, but she wasn’t ready for him to know everything yet—not after the tense exchange they’d had about mercenaries just the other night.

    Isabel appeared in the doorway, her calm presence immediately grounding Ariana. “I’m sorry I have to leave you handling everything so soon, Isabel,” Ariana said, glancing up briefly. Her voice held a note of guilt. “But I need to go. I cannot ignore this message from the Chantry.”

    “It’s alright, child,” Isabel replied, stepping further into the room and leaning lightly against the bedpost. “I can handle things here, do not worry about that. But…” Her green eyes studied Ariana intently. “What are you going to tell Cullen?”

    Ariana hesitated, a tunic held tightly in her hands. She exhaled, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I do not know,” she admitted, her voice low. “I have been trying to figure that out since I got the letter. I cannot tell him the truth, not yet. Not after the other night.”

    Isabel considered this for a moment before speaking carefully. “You cannot lie to him either, not outright. That would only make things worse.”

    Ariana’s brows furrowed in frustration. “Then what should I say? I need an explanation that will make sense.”

    “The Chantry did send for you,” Isabel pointed out gently, her tone pragmatic. “That part is true. And you are a Trevelyan—one of the most prominent noble families in Ostwick. The connection is clear enough for him to believe.”

    Ariana blinked, the idea taking shape in her mind. “So… I tell him that the Chantry in Orlais sent for me because of my family?”

    Isabel nodded. “Precisely. The Trevelyans have ties to the Chantry, do they not? If he asks why they want you specifically, it is a logical explanation. He does not need to know everything right now.”

    Ariana gave her a thoughtful look, her tension easing slightly. “That could work,” she said slowly. “It is not a lie, and it explains why I need to leave.”

    Isabel placed a hand on her shoulder, her expression firm but kind. “He cares for you, Ariana. Be honest where you can, but you are not wrong to hold back for now. Timing matters, especially with men like him.”

    Ariana smiled faintly. “Thank you, Isabel. You are right.” She turned her attention back to her trunk, her resolve firming. “This will have to do.”

    Isabel gave her a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder before stepping back toward the door. “You’ll handle it, child. And when you do, you’ll see it is not as frightening as you think.”

    Ariana watched her leave, the weight on her chest lifting just enough. She still had until tonight to fully gather her thoughts, but Isabel’s suggestion felt like a lifeline. It was not the full truth, but it was close enough for now—and that was something she could work with.

    ~~~

    The walk to the ruins was quiet, the faint hum of Kirkwall in the distance blending with the steady crash of waves below the cliffs. Ariana and Cullen walked side by side, the tension between them subtle but undeniable. It was as though the argument from the other night still lingered, a specter they were both trying to leave behind but hadn’t entirely banished. Yet, the silence wasn’t uncomfortable; it felt more like unspoken words waiting for the right moment.

    When they reached the ruins, they found a spot along the cliffs, a ledge with a clear view of the ships gliding into the harbor. Ariana settled herself down, folding her arms around her knees as she watched the sea. Cullen sat beside her, his gaze flickering between her and the horizon.

    “Did you know these ruins predate the Tevinter Imperium?” Ariana began, her tone light, as though testing the waters. “There are hints they might have been Elvhen once, though most of the markings are too faded to tell.”

    Cullen gave her a small smile, recognizing the attempt to steer the conversation away from anything too serious. “You and your ruins,” he teased softly. “Do you ever stop trying to uncover every secret buried beneath the stone?”

    Ariana shrugged, the corners of her lips lifting slightly. “There is always something to learn if you look closely enough,” she said. Her tone was easy, but Cullen could see her fingers toying with the edge of her cloak, a nervous gesture he’d come to recognize.

    They sat in silence for a while, watching the ships drifting in and out of the harbor. Ariana spoke intermittently, pointing out small details about the ruins or the ships, her voice carrying an almost forced cheerfulness. Cullen listened, offering the occasional nod or hum of acknowledgment, but his gaze remained fixed on her. He knew her well enough to tell when she was stalling.

    “Ari,” he said eventually, his voice low but insistent. “What is it?”

    Ariana stiffened slightly, her fingers pausing their restless motion. She let out a slow breath, her eyes still fixed on the horizon. “I… need to travel to Orlais,” she said at last, the words carefully measured.

    Cullen tilted his head, studying her. “To Orlais?” he repeated. “Why?”

    “The Chantry sent for me,” she explained, her voice steady despite the unease she felt. “I received a letter. It seems… they want to speak with me.”

    “About what?” Cullen asked, his brow furrowing. There was no suspicion in his tone, only curiosity and concern.

    Ariana hesitated, the weight of his gaze pressing on her. “I am not entirely sure,” she admitted honestly. “They did not provide many details in the letter.”

    Cullen’s frown deepened. “That seems strange. Why would they summon you without telling you why?”

    She shrugged lightly, as if to brush off the concern. “The Trevelyans have always had ties to the Chantry,” she said. “It might have something to do with that. I… I do not have enough details yet to say for certain.”

    It wasn’t a lie, and that gave her some relief. Cullen seemed to consider her words carefully, his expression softening slightly. “How long will you be gone?” he asked after a pause.

    “Not long,” Ariana replied, though she wasn’t entirely sure herself. “Just long enough to find out what they want and address it.”

    Cullen nodded slowly, his gaze shifting back to the sea. “If the Chantry summoned you, it must be important. But Ari…” He turned back to her, his eyes meeting hers. “Be careful. Orlais is… complicated. If you need anything, you’ll let me know?”

    Ariana felt a pang of guilt but managed a small smile. “Of course,” she said. “Thank you, Cullen.”

    The conversation lapsed into quiet again, the sound of the waves filling the space between them. Ariana felt a flicker of relief that he hadn’t pressed further, though the lingering weight of the unspoken truths tugged at her. For now, she told herself, this was enough.

    A new thought tugged at Ariana’s mind. She would need to speak with Varric before she left. If Cullen saw him while she was away—and given their proximity in Kirkwall, it was inevitable—she couldn’t risk him accidentally mentioning anything that didn’t align with what she’d just told Cullen. She made a mental note to remind Varric of the Chantry story, ensuring they stayed on the same page. It was exhausting, keeping her lives separate like this, and the web of half-truths was only growing more complicated, but for now, it felt like the only option.