25 Bloomingtide – 5 Justinian 9:41
The next morning, the camp buzzed with activity as Rangers and Inquisition soldiers packed up supplies, the sharp clang of metal and muted chatter blending with the cold wind. Ariana stood at the edge of a ledge overlooking the mountains, her thoughts adrift in the expanse of white and grey before her. The biting wind stung her cheeks, but she barely noticed.
Relief was a strange thing—she felt it now, knowing the camp had a direction, knowing they would move forward. Yet it wasn’t the all-encompassing sense of ease she had expected. Beneath it lingered a tension she couldn’t shake, a weight she had carried for as long as she could remember.
A small, private smile curved her lips as her fingers brushed over the familiar ring now snug on her hand. She wasn’t sure what to make of that relief—it was sharp, raw, and vulnerable, and yet it anchored her amidst the chaos. Not now, she told herself. There will be time to feel all of this later. Now, they need me steady.
“Thought you might need this,” Riley’s voice startled her, breaking through her thoughts. Ariana turned as Riley draped her cloak over her shoulders, her wry smile a quiet comfort. Before Ariana could thank her, Riley gave a curt nod and disappeared back into the camp to help where she could.
Ariana pulled the cloak tighter, its weight both familiar and grounding, and turned back to the view. She didn’t linger long before she felt a presence behind her. Strong arms wrapped around her waist, and she leaned back instinctively, the warmth of Cullen’s embrace cutting through the cold.
“Why, Commander,” she teased, a smile tugging at her lips. “People will talk, you know…”
“I think they’re already talking, my love” Cullen whispered, his voice warm and tinged with amusement.
She turned in his arms, her hands resting on his chest as his arms remained loosely around her. His eyes were soft, his expression free of the worry that so often clouded it. For a moment, she let herself simply feel—feel the safety of his presence, the weight of his love, and the strange, unexpected lightness that came with it.
“Are we ready to go?” she asked quietly, her tone steady but touched with anticipation.
“Almost,” he replied, glancing toward the bustling soldiers. “The last of the supplies are being packed. Solas is with the scouts, reviewing their findings.”
Before she could respond, a young woman approached them hurriedly, her expression a mix of nerves and excitement.
“You’re her, aren’t you?” the woman blurted out, her words tumbling over each other.
Ariana raised an eyebrow, momentarily thrown. “The Herald of Andraste?” she asked cautiously.
“Well… yes, but no. I mean, you’re the White Wolf?”
Surprise flickered across Ariana’s face, followed by a quiet, guarded curiosity. “Oh, that. Yes, I am,” she said carefully.
The woman’s face lit up. “You saved my older brother years ago. He never stopped talking about being rescued from bandits by a white wolf.”
Ariana tilted her head thoughtfully, sifting through memories. “At the base of the Frostbacks? The boy who dropped his basket?”
“Yes! You remember him?” the woman’s eyes shone, her delight unguarded.
Ariana’s lips curved into a soft smile. “Of course, I do. I could never forget him. He’s the reason the White Wolf exists at all. Is he alright?”
“Oh, yes,” the woman said eagerly. “He’s a successful merchant now, thanks to you.” She hesitated briefly before her excitement bubbled over again. “If the Inquisition needs supplies, he could help. I’m sure he would. Once we’re settled, I’ll write to him, my lady.”
Ariana’s smile deepened, and she inclined her head. “Thank you. That means a great deal.”
The woman bowed quickly and excused herself, leaving Ariana standing with Cullen as the memory settled over her like a warm blanket.
“Well…” Ariana mused aloud. “I never thought I’d find out what became of him.”
“You’re telling me a boy is the reason the White Wolf was born?” Cullen asked, his curiosity piqued.
Ariana chuckled, pulling the cloak tighter around her shoulders. “Well, you just heard most of the story. I was wearing a fur-trimmed cloak, much like this one.” she said motioning loosely towards herself “It was snowing, and bandits tried to rob him. Riley and I stepped in, but all he saw was the cloak. He ran home to his parents, swearing he was saved by a white wolf.”
She laughed softly at the memory, the sound carrying a warmth that eased some of the tension still lingering in her chest. “He dropped his basket in his panic. I returned it to his parents, who tried to prove to him I wasn’t a wolf. The boy seemed disappointed, so when they asked for my name, I told him he could call me ‘Wolf.’”
“That’s the whole story?” Cullen asked incredulously.
Ariana smirked, her tone playful. “What, were you expecting a grand tale of heroism and destiny?”
“I didn’t expect a cloak and a panicked boy with a basket,” he retorted with a chuckle. “And after that?”
Ariana smiled, a touch of mischief in her eyes. “After that? The boy’s family did most of it. The story grew with every retelling—bandits became an army, and I was no longer just a wolf but a great white beast that tore through them. And somewhere in there…” She paused, smirking. “Riley probably added her embellishments. You know how she is.”
Cullen shook his head, chuckling softly. “Of course she did.”
Ariana’s gaze shifted back to the camp. She felt a quiet sense of pride, knowing that small act of kindness had grown into something far greater than she could have imagined. And now, it seemed, that story might help the Inquisition in a time of desperate need.
“The woman said he could send supplies,” Ariana mused aloud, her tone thoughtful. “If that’s true… if what started as a frightened boy’s story can help save lives now, then maybe I’m doing something right.”
Cullen reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face as his smile softened. “You’ve always done something right, Ari. More than you give yourself credit for.”
She glanced at him, her lips curving into a wry grin. “Careful, Commander. I might start to believe you.”
“For once, I hope you do,” he replied, the humor in his tone unable to mask the sincerity beneath it.
They shared a quiet moment together, the weight of the past mingling with the hope for what lay ahead. Ariana pulled her cloak tighter, the memory of the boy now a warm thread in the larger tapestry of her life—a reminder that even small acts could ripple outward in ways she could never predict.
And with the woman’s words still fresh in her mind, she felt a flicker of satisfaction, knowing the choices she made—then and now—mattered.
~~~
The journey through the mountains stretched on, each day blending into the next as snow and wind clung stubbornly to the path. The chill seeped into bones, but the steady rhythm of progress offered a fragile sense of hope. Ariana rested against Cullen, her exhaustion too deep to protest his insistence that she ride while he held the reins. His arms wrapped securely around her, their warmth a quiet shield against the cold.
The sound of approaching hooves pulled Ariana from her half-asleep haze. Riley came into view, her red hair bright against the snowy backdrop, her expression somewhere between a smirk and mock disapproval.
“Comfortable, are we?” Riley teased, pulling her horse alongside theirs. “Should I start calling you Lady Commander now, Wolf?”
Ariana tilted her head just enough to meet Riley’s gaze, a slow grin spreading across her lips. “I’d say go ahead, but I think you might need permission from Commander Cullen first.”
Cullen groaned softly, though the faint curve of his lips betrayed his amusement. “I’m already regretting this,” he muttered.
“Don’t worry,” Riley said with mock reassurance. “The Rangers will come up with plenty of new titles once word spreads about that little proposal scene last night. If it’s any consolation, I’ve heard worse suggestions than Lord Commander of the White Wolf’s Heart.”
Ariana snorted, burying her face against Cullen’s shoulder as laughter bubbled up. “Oh, Maker help me. That one better not stick.”
Riley shrugged, her grin widening. “No promises.” With a wink, she urged her horse forward, calling back, “Just let me know when to order the banner changes.”
As Riley disappeared ahead, another pair of riders joined them. Isabel and Emma, bundled tightly against the cold, rode up with smiles that instantly lightened the atmosphere. Emma’s face lit up when she spotted Ariana.
“Do you two always sit that close?” Emma asked innocently, her blue eyes bright with curiosity.
“Only when she’s about to pass out from exhaustion,” Cullen replied smoothly, his tone laced with dry humor.
Ariana raised an eyebrow at him, her lips twitching into a smirk. “And here I thought you just liked having me close.”
Isabel chuckled, brushing a strand of blonde hair from her face. “He’s not wrong, though. You were half asleep when we rode up.”
“Fine,” Ariana admitted, her tone mock-defeated. “But only because it’s I dropped a mountain on myself.”
Emma giggled, looking between them. “So, when are you getting married?”
Cullen choked on a breath, while Ariana’s eyes widened slightly. “Emma,” Isabel interjected quickly, though her smile betrayed no real intent to stop her daughter. “Let them figure that out.”
Emma simply shrugged. “It’s a good question,” she said matter-of-factly before turning her horse back toward the caravan.
“She’s your child,” Ariana muttered to Isabel, though her laughter betrayed her exasperation.
The day wore on, and as the snow grew heavier, the group’s movements slowed. Dorian rode up to offer more levity, his voice cutting through the frost with practiced theatricality.
“Herald, Commander,” he began, his smile as sharp as the mountain air. “I’ve come to provide my unsolicited yet brilliant observations about your engagement.”
“Have you?” Cullen replied dryly, though his tone held a grudging amusement.
“Oh, naturally,” Dorian continued. “I’m simply ensuring that when the history books recount this moment, it won’t be overshadowed by your woeful lack of a grand celebration. Really, Ariana, do tell me you’ve considered fireworks.”
“I was thinking more along the lines of surviving to see it,” Ariana quipped, earning a bark of laughter from Dorian.
“Fair point,” he conceded with a grin. “Though I must insist—at least one ostentatious flourish, for my sake.”
Cullen sighed heavily, though the soft chuckle that escaped him betrayed his amusement. “How could we say no?”
“You couldn’t,” Dorian replied with mock solemnity, tipping an imaginary hat. “But alas, I must leave you for now. The mages seem to think I’m useful for more than just my charm.”
“You’re really going to let him plan our wedding?” Cullen asked knowingly, leaning down slightly so his voice reached only her ears.
Ariana laughed, her voice warm. “I don’t know. It would probably be quite the grand affair if he did. Though I imagine he’d have to fight my mother for that right.”
Cullen chuckled softly, leaning down to press a kiss to her temple. Their conversation continued in quiet intervals, punctuated by occasional reports from scouts or murmured reassurances from Cullen when Ariana’s eyelids grew heavy. Each time she drifted off, he tightened his grip around her, holding her close as the caravan pressed on.
By the time they reached the final rise, the group was a mixture of exhaustion and anticipation. When the scouts returned with news of what lay ahead, Ariana insisted on seeing it herself. Cullen dismounted first, helping her down with gentle care. Together, they climbed the last stretch, their breath visible in the frigid air.
Her breath caught in her throat as they crested the ridge. Before them stood an immense fortress, its towers rising defiantly against the mountainous backdrop. Shrouded in mist but undeniably imposing, it seemed almost untouched by time, as though it had been waiting for them.
Solas appeared at their side, his expression as unreadable as ever save for a flicker of satisfaction in his eyes. “Skyhold,” he said, his voice quiet but filled with certainty.
Ariana took a step forward, her gaze sweeping over the fortress. Relief mingled with awe as she took in the sight. “It’s incredible,” she murmured, her voice laced with quiet wonder.
Cullen watched her, his gaze softening. “It’s more than that,” he said quietly. “It’s safe.”
Solas watched her, his head tilting slightly as though studying her reaction. For a fleeting moment, a pleased smile played at the corners of his mouth before vanishing into his usual composed expression.
Behind them, the caravan began to stir, murmurs rippling through the ranks as the fortress came into view. Ariana turned, her voice cutting through the cold.
“Come on! Let’s keep moving,” she called out, her tone firm but encouraging. “We’re almost there.”
As the caravan moved forward, Solas lingered atop the ridge for a moment longer, his gaze following Ariana. There was something in the way she had looked at Skyhold—hopeful yet unyielding—that reassured him they were on the right path. Allowing himself a rare moment of satisfaction, he turned and followed her down the winding trail.
~~~
The first week at Skyhold passed in a blur of activity, each day blending into the next. The grandeur of the fortress offered hope, but the memory of Haven’s destruction lingered like a shadow. Cullen threw himself into organizing repairs, overseeing defenses, and ensuring Skyhold could sustain the influx of soldiers and refugees. But even amidst the chaos, his thoughts kept drifting to Ariana. He saw her in glimpses—always helping, always moving, but never stopping long enough to breathe.
The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the courtyard as Cullen stood near the makeshift command table, speaking with a small group of soldiers. Reports in hand, he tried to divide his attention between their concerns and the growing list of tasks requiring his oversight. The camp was settling, but Skyhold was far from secure.
One of the soldiers pointed out an issue with the patrol routes, drawing Cullen’s attention back to the map spread across the table. He was just about to respond when a familiar voice cut through the bustle.
“Cullen,” Ariana called, her tone casual but carrying an unmistakable undercurrent of mischief.
He glanced up to see her weaving her way toward him, her expression one of feigned innocence. Immediately, he was on guard. That look never meant anything simple.
“Ariana,” he replied warily, straightening. “What is it?”
“I need your help with something,” she said, stopping just short of the table. Her arms were crossed, but there was a spark of excitement in her eyes—one that made him instantly suspicious.
“I’m in the middle of something,” he said, gesturing to the reports on the table. “It’ll have to wait.”
She tilted her head, her lips curving into a sly smile. “Oh, that’s fine. I’ll just go exploring the Skyhold basement by myself, then.”
Cullen froze, his brow furrowing. “The basement? Ariana, no. Those areas haven’t been fully cleared yet. We don’t know what’s down there.”
“Exactly,” she said, her voice light and teasing. “That’s why I want to explore. I’m curious.”
He sighed, already sensing where this was going. “You can’t just wander down there on your own. It’s not safe.”
She tilted her head, her lips curving into a sly smile. “Fine, then I’ll just go find Dorian. I’m sure he’ll help me explore the basement.”
That made Cullen groan audibly. “Ariana,” he said, his tone already fraying.
“What?” she asked, her smile widening. “Solas said I might find something interesting down there. And if you’re too busy, I’m sure Dorian would be more than happy to join me.”
Cullen ran a hand down his face, already picturing the chaos that would follow. It wasn’t jealousy that irked him—it was the fact that Dorian would likely get distracted halfway through by some ancient bauble, leaving Ariana alone with unstable walls and who-knew-what-else.
“Ariana, you can’t just—”
But she was already walking away, her strides purposeful as she headed toward the main hall. Cullen sighed heavily, muttering a quick “I’ll be back” to the soldiers before hurrying after her.
He caught up as she entered the main hall, his longer strides allowing him to fall into step beside her. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he muttered under his breath.
Her smile widened, and she turned on her heel, starting to walk away. “And yet you want to marry me.”
“But if I find anything unstable down there, you’re heading straight back.” He said begrudgingly.
She beamed at him, the picture of triumph. “That’s all I ask, Commander.”
Together, they made their way down the staircase into the dimly lit basement. The air was cooler here, with a faint tang of stone and damp earth. Ariana’s steps were light, curiosity sparking in her eyes as they ventured further into the depths of Skyhold.
The first room they entered was small and unassuming, but the rows of shelves and the unmistakable gleam of glass caught Ariana’s attention immediately.
“A cellar,” she said, moving toward the shelves with a mix of awe and excitement. “Would you look at this…”
Cullen followed her gaze to the ancient bottles of wine and liquor, their labels faded but still legible in places.
“Antivan red… Orlesian brandy…” she murmured, brushing away cobwebs to reveal more treasures.
Cullen crossed his arms, shaking his head with faint amusement. “I hope you don’t plan on sampling those.”
“Not yet,” she replied, her grin mischievous. “But imagine the morale boost if we brought some of this up for the Inquisition. Or better yet, we could use it to bribe Josephine into giving us a day off.”
Cullen chuckled despite himself, following her as she moved toward another door.
The next room was larger, the air thick with the scent of dust and old parchment. Shelves upon shelves of books and scrolls lined the walls, and in the center of the room, an ornate desk stood covered in scattered papers and aged leather-bound volumes.
Ariana’s breath caught. “Now this…” she said, her voice tinged with awe. “This is what I was hoping for.”
Cullen leaned against the doorframe, his gaze softening as he watched her. She moved through the room like a child in a storybook, her fingers brushing over the spines of books, her eyes alight with curiosity.
“You’re enjoying this,” she said suddenly, glancing over her shoulder at him.
“Maybe,” he admitted, a small smile playing at his lips.
She laughed softly, her attention drawn to the desk. Shuffling through the scattered papers, she froze when her hand brushed against a larger, folded sheet. Carefully, she pulled it free and spread it out on the desk.
“Cullen, look,” she said, her tone shifting to something more serious.
He stepped closer, his brow furrowing as he looked over her shoulder. The sheet was a detailed sketch of Skyhold, its layout intricately drawn with annotations in a language neither of them immediately recognized.
“It’s a reconstruction plan,” Ariana said, excitement bubbling in her voice. “Look—here’s the courtyard, the main hall, the towers…” She traced her finger along the parchment, her mind already working to piece together the details. “And here—this might be another entrance. Or maybe it’s a hidden passage.”
Cullen’s expression grew thoughtful as he examined the sketch. “This… this could be invaluable,” he said quietly. “Reinforcing Skyhold will take months, but if we know its layout—its weak points, its strengths—we can work faster. Better.”
Ariana looked up at him, her smile soft but triumphant. “See? I told you this would be worth it.”
He met her gaze, his own smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You never stop surprising me.”
“I aim to please,” she teased, her tone light but affectionate.
Cullen shook his head, his attention returning to the map. “We’ll need to get this to the architects and the engineers. It might change everything.”
Ariana leaned against the desk, her expression turning thoughtful. “It’s amazing, isn’t it? How much this place has been waiting for us.”
He glanced at her, the warmth in his eyes unmistakable. “It’s amazing how much you seem to find wherever you go.”
She laughed softly, shaking her head. “You flatter me too much, Commander.”
“And yet it’s true,” he replied, his voice steady.
For a moment, they stood together in the quiet of the library, the weight of their responsibilities temporarily lifted by the discovery. Ariana’s gaze lingered on the map, her thoughts already spinning with possibilities.
Cullen watched her, a quiet sense of admiration settling over him. It wasn’t just the map, the books, or the history she uncovered—it was her unwavering drive, her ability to find light even in the darkest of places.
And as the fading sunlight filtered through a crack in the ceiling, illuminating the dust motes that danced in the air, Cullen realized he wouldn’t trade this moment for anything.
~~~
The courtyard buzzed with subdued activity as Cullen joined Cassandra, Leliana, and Josephine near the command table. Reports and maps lay scattered, their edges curling in the cool mountain air. Despite the bustle, a heavy tension hung over them, thick with unspoken frustrations.
“This can’t go on,” Josephine said, her usually calm tone frayed with urgency. “We cannot continue to deliberate every decision. It’s causing more harm than good.”
Leliana nodded, her sharp gaze scanning the camp. “We need a leader. Someone to unify us.”
Cullen sighed heavily, his arms crossed over his chest. “Someone the people already follow,” he said. “Someone they trust, whether or not they realize it.”
The silence that followed was telling. They all knew who he meant.
“It’s Ariana,” Cassandra said at last, her voice firm and resolute. “The soldiers look to her. The villagers adore her. She inspires loyalty wherever she goes.”
“And she always has,” Leliana added softly, a faint smile touching her lips. “Even when she doubts herself.”
Josephine folded her hands, her brow furrowed. “The Inquisition will need a moment—something symbolic to solidify her role. A public declaration would do much to unite everyone.”
“She won’t agree easily,” Cullen interjected, his voice tinged with concern. “She doesn’t see herself that way. She’ll push back.”
“We cannot give her the opportunity to say no,” Cassandra said bluntly. “If we approach her in front of everyone, she’ll have no choice but to accept.”
Cullen’s brow furrowed, unease flickering in his eyes. “This is Ariana we’re talking about. Forcing her hand—”
“Will work,” Leliana interrupted, her tone calm but insistent. “It must. She’ll see the necessity once the decision is made.”
Cullen shook his head, his voice tightening. “We owe her more than that. She deserves to know what’s being asked of her.”
“She will understand,” Cassandra said, her expression unwavering. “She has to.”
Josephine spoke up, her voice gentler. “She would do the same for us, Cullen. This isn’t about forcing her—it’s about showing her what we already see. What the Inquisition needs.”
Cullen hesitated, his gaze dropping to the table. He couldn’t deny their logic, but the thought of blindsiding Ariana felt wrong. She carried so much already. Could she truly bear this, too? And would she ever forgive them for making her?
Before he could voice another objection, Cassandra’s gaze shifted toward the window. “Speak of the Herald,” she murmured.
The others turned, following her line of sight. Outside, Ariana moved through the courtyard, speaking briefly with a soldier before her sharp, assessing gaze swept over the camp.
“She already leads,” Leliana said quietly, a note of pride in her voice. “Even if she doesn’t realize it.”
“She will,” Cassandra said firmly, her tone brooking no argument. “We’ll ensure it.”
Cullen lingered a moment longer after the others left, his gaze fixed on Ariana as she moved through the courtyard. Her steps carried the same purposeful stride that had always drawn him to her, but he could see the weight she carried, even now. The way her shoulders tensed when she paused to speak to a soldier. The faint shadow of exhaustion in her expression. The spark of determination in her eyes.
He let out a slow breath, his mind swirling. He didn’t want this for her—the title, the burden. He knew how much she resisted the notion of being anyone’s leader. Ariana didn’t see herself as the kind of figure the Inquisition needed, but Cullen knew better. She already led them. She always had. Whether she realized it or not, people gravitated to her strength, her resilience, her unwavering determination to do what was right. That wasn’t something a title could give her—it was simply who she was.
But titles came with weight, and Cullen knew this one would rest heavily on her shoulders. He frowned, his chest tightening at the thought of what it would mean for her to bear that alone.
She won’t have to.
The thought came with a quiet certainty, settling the storm of his mind. He wouldn’t let her carry it alone. Just as they had always done, they would bear it together. Whatever part of this role was too much for her—the politics, the scrutiny, the endless expectations—he would take it on himself. He would do it without hesitation.
She might become the Inquisitor, but Cullen would ensure that she never felt isolated in the role. They were a team, and he would always stand beside her. Always.
Ariana’s gaze swept the courtyard, and for a moment, her eyes met his. There was something unspoken in her look—something steady and unyielding, as if she had already accepted what was coming, even if she didn’t fully realize it yet.
Cullen straightened, the faintest trace of a smile tugging at his lips. You can handle this, Ari, he thought, his resolve hardening. And I’ll handle whatever you can’t.
Turning back to the table, he gathered the reports left behind, his mind already turning to the preparations. If this was the path they were taking, then Cullen would ensure it was a path Ariana never had to walk alone.
~~~
The first week at Skyhold had offered Ariana little time to rest. Each day brought new challenges, with the shadow of Haven lingering in every task. She was thankful for the rare moments of exploration—and for the few times she managed to convince, cajole, or outright manipulate Cullen into joining her. He needed to stop working as hard as he was, but she understood why he did it. For her. He was trying to keep her safe.
But I wish he’d understand, she thought, that I’d prefer him coming to bed every night rather than working for days on end. Skyhold had given them a second chance, but what did that mean now?
Her thoughts scattered when Cassandra approached her, expression serious. “Walk with me,” Cassandra said without preamble, already leading the way. Ariana fell into step beside her, their boots crunching against the snow loud in the quiet tension between them.
“They arrive daily,” Cassandra began, gesturing toward the crowd below. “From every settlement in the region. Skyhold is becoming a pilgrimage. Word of our survival spreads—and with it, the tale of the Herald who saved us.”
Ariana frowned, glancing at the people working tirelessly to repair walls, set up tents, and haul supplies. “If word has reached these people, it’s reached Corypheus. We’ve gained walls and numbers, but this threat is far beyond what we anticipated.”
“And yet,” Cassandra countered, her tone measured, “we know now why he came for you. What allowed you to stand against him.”
Ariana raised her marked hand with a mirthless laugh. “He came for this. And now that it’s useless to him, he just wants me dead. He will not suffer an ‘unknowing rival.’”
Cassandra stopped, turning to face her. “The Anchor has power, yes—but it’s not why you’re still standing here,” she said firmly.
Ariana chuckled lightly, trying to defuse the gravity of the conversation. “Actually, it is. Without it, I’d probably be lying in a snowbank somewhere.”
Cassandra didn’t smile but continued leading her up the stairs to a landing overlooking the courtyard. “Your decisions let us heal the sky. Your determination brought us out of Haven. You are that creature’s rival because of what you did, Ariana. And we know it. All of us.”
As they reached the landing, Ariana’s steps slowed. Leliana stood waiting, her head bowed slightly, and in her hands was a sword. It was masterfully crafted, intricate designs etched into its blade and hilt. The pommel was set with a gleaming red gemstone, casting faint reflections onto the silver dragon coiled around the hilt.
Recognition hit Ariana immediately, stealing her breath. “That’s…” she began, but her voice faltered.
“It was commissioned by Divine Justinia,” Cassandra said, stepping closer. “Meant for the Inquisitor who would lead the Inquisition when the time came.”
Ariana’s chest tightened. “And you think… that’s me?”
Cassandra’s gaze didn’t waver. “You have been leading us since the moment you stepped out of that rift. These people follow you, not because you’re the Herald of Andraste, but because you inspire them.”
Ariana’s gaze flicked to the crowd below. She saw Cullen, Riley, Elliott, and the Vanguard among the villagers and soldiers. Their faces carried a trust that was both humbling and terrifying. “It’s unanimous?” she asked, her voice tinged with disbelief.
“All of these people have their lives because of you,” Cassandra said firmly. “They will follow.”
“That wasn’t the question,” Ariana countered, unease slipping into her voice. Leadership was familiar to her, but this? This was something else entirely. An Inquisitor hadn’t existed in eight ages. Could she bear the weight of that legacy?
“I will not lie,” Cassandra admitted, her tone softening. “Handing this power to anyone is troubling. But I have to believe this is meant to be. There would be no Inquisition without you. How it will serve, how you lead—that must be yours to decide.”
Ariana’s heart pounded as she looked at the sword again. The blade shimmered in Leliana’s hands, and Ariana hesitated before stepping forward. Her hands trembled as she reached for it, steadying herself before taking hold.
As she lifted the sword, its weight was both literal and symbolic. “Our concern must be the order and safety of this world, not the next,” she said softly, more to herself than anyone else. “I’m not ‘chosen.’ I have chosen.”
“Wherever you lead us,” Cassandra said, gesturing for Ariana to approach the ledge overlooking the gathered crowd.
Ariana turned toward the ledge, the sword in hand, and looked down at the crowd. The weight of their eyes pressed against her, and her chest tightened.
“Commander, will they follow?” Cassandra asked, her voice carrying over the courtyard.
“Inquisition!” Cullen shouted, his voice ringing out over the courtyard. “Will you follow?”
A roar of approval rose in response.
“Will you fight? Will we triumph?” Cullen continued, his words pulling more fervent cheers from the crowd. He unsheathed his sword and raised it high. “Your leader! Your Herald! Your Inquisitor!”
The crowd erupted, their voices echoing off the stone walls. Ariana tightened her grip on the ceremonial sword, letting the sound wash over her. It wasn’t just noise—it was belief. Belief in her.
Turning back to Cassandra, Ariana saw something she hadn’t expected—a small, rare smile. “They will follow,” Cassandra said simply.
Ariana exhaled deeply, her voice steady. “Then let’s lead them.”
Yet, despite the steadiness of her voice, her mind churned with doubt. She wished for the simplicity of what she knew. She knew how to be the White Wolf, the leader of the Silver Rangers. She wasn’t sure about this.
Her gaze flicked to Cullen below, still among the crowd, sword raised high in support. The sight unsettled her. He’d known this was coming—why hadn’t he said anything?
Did he believe in this? Did he believe in me? Or is he just resigned, like I am, to the path set before us?
She turned back toward the cheering crowd, swallowing her unease. For now, she would let herself believe in their belief. It was enough—it had to be.
~~~
As the crowd dispersed, Ariana remained rooted on the stair landing, the cheers and excitement fading into the background. Leliana and Cassandra lingered beside her, their presence grounding her in the surreal moment. She was an Inquisitor now—a leader in name, not just in practice—and the weight of it was still sinking in.
Cassandra’s steady voice broke the quiet. “We should have done this long ago. Named you Inquisitor, I mean.”
Leliana nodded, her sharp eyes softening as they met Ariana’s. “You’ve been leading us all along, whether you realized it or not.”
Ariana tilted her head, doubt flickering across her face. “Cassandra… you started this. The Inquisition was your doing.” Her voice held an edge of uncertainty, as though she couldn’t reconcile how she’d ended up here instead of Cassandra.
Cassandra shook her head firmly. “I wish I could say this was my doing, but it’s not. You’ve been the one making the hard decisions. You’ve been the one forging alliances. We followed you here.”
Ariana chuckled lightly, trying to ease the tension in her chest. “Now you’re just flattering me.”
“I’m not!” Cassandra insisted, sounding exasperated. “This always happens. Nobody ever takes my meaning seriously—”
“You are being very flattering, Cassandra,” Leliana interjected with a faint smirk.
Cassandra groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Why do I even bother?”
Ariana burst into laughter, the sound a rare reprieve from the weight of the past week. “You should see your face right now.”
Cassandra sighed, though there was a hint of humor in her tone. “I’m thinking less flattering things now,” she muttered before excusing herself and descending the stairs.
Ariana watched her go, her laughter fading as the moment settled around her again. The weight of her new title pressed against her shoulders. She wanted to feel pride, to embrace the hope that came with the cheers of the people below, but instead, the doubt lingered.
Before she could dwell on it, Josephine and Cullen approached, their smiles warm but curious. “Well, you two seemed like you were having fun,” Josephine said, her tone light.
Ariana smirked. “Cassandra’s always fun. You just have to know how to bring it out of her.”
Cullen chuckled softly but didn’t add anything, gesturing for them to head inside the main hall. As they made their way in, the weight of the conversation lingered on Ariana’s shoulders.
“So, what exactly happens now?” she asked, glancing at the group.
Leliana responded first, her voice steady. “We continue our roles as we have been. The only difference now is that the decisions are yours alone. We are here to advise and carry out your orders.”
Ariana nodded, her lips pressing into a thin line as she ran a hand through her hair. Cullen caught the gesture, recognizing it as a tell—a habit whenever she was uncertain or deeply bothered.
They entered the main hall, its grandeur muted by years of wear and damage. Sunlight streamed through the cracked windows, illuminating streaks of dust in the air. Despite its state, the space held an undeniable sense of potential.
“This is where it begins,” Cullen said thoughtfully, his gaze sweeping the room.
“It began in the courtyard,” Leliana countered. “This is where we turn that promise into action.”
“But how?” Josephine asked, pacing slightly. “We know little about Corypheus beyond his desire for the Anchor.”
Ariana sat on the steps leading to the throne, her fingers drumming lightly on her knees. “Could his dragon really be an Archdemon?” she asked quietly. “What would that mean?”
“It would mean the beginning of another Blight,” Leliana answered gravely.
Ariana exhaled sharply, a bitter smile tugging at her lips. “Didn’t need two of those in my lifetime,” she muttered.
Josephine attempted a more optimistic angle. “We’ve seen no darkspawn other than Corypheus himself. Perhaps it’s not an Archdemon but something… different?”
“Whatever it is, it’s dangerous,” Cullen said firmly, arms crossed. “Commanding such a creature gives Corypheus an advantage we can’t ignore.”
Ariana leaned forward, her elbows on her knees. “We’re stumbling in the dark. Someone out there has to know something about him.”
Before anyone could respond, the heavy doors creaked open. Varric strolled in with his usual swagger, though his expression carried a rare seriousness.
“I know someone who can help with Corypheus,” he announced.
Ariana froze, her sharp eyes locking onto him. Something in his tone struck a chord of recognition. “You don’t mean…” she started, her voice trailing off as realization dawned.
Varric hesitated for a moment, a rare flicker of guilt crossing his face. “Yeah…”
The room fell silent, the air heavy with tension. Ariana’s lips parted slightly, a mix of disbelief and anger flashing across her face. “You knew where she was?” she asked, her voice low and tight, dangerously calm. “This entire time?”
Varric raised his hands defensively. “Not exactly. I knew how to reach her, and even then, I didn’t want to—”
“You didn’t want to what?” Ariana interrupted, her voice rising slightly. “You didn’t want to tell me? You didn’t trust me?” Her words cut like daggers, her frustration spilling over. “I’ve been asking you about her for months, Varric. Every time I asked if you’d heard from her, you lied.”
“I didn’t lie!” Varric shot back, though his usual bravado faltered. “I didn’t know how to bring it up. I figured it’d be better if you met her when the time was right.”
Ariana exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair. “The time was right? You decided the time was right? After everything we’ve been through? She’s my friend, Varric! I had a right to know.”
Varric sighed, the weight of her words pressing down on him. “Pup… I didn’t mean to keep it from you. I just… I thought it’d be easier this way.”
“Easier for who?” Ariana snapped, her voice cracking slightly. “Because it sure as hell wasn’t easier for me.”
The room fell into an uneasy silence. Even Leliana and Josephine, who had been silently observing, exchanged brief, uncomfortable glances. Cullen, standing beside Ariana, placed a steadying hand on her shoulder, his presence grounding her.
“She’s here,” Varric said finally, his tone softer, almost apologetic. “She’s waiting for you on the battlements.”
Ariana’s chest tightened, her anger ebbing into something quieter, heavier. Hawke was alive. Relief and frustration tangled in her chest, but she forced herself to exhale, nodding stiffly. “Fine,” she said, her voice clipped. “I’ll see her. But don’t think for a second this is over, Varric.”
The dwarf offered a faint, sheepish smile. “Noted.”
As Varric retreated, Josephine cleared her throat delicately. “Well, this is… unexpected.”
Cullen’s hand lingered on Ariana’s shoulder for a moment longer before he stepped back. “Do you want me to come with you?” he asked quietly, his tone careful.
Ariana shook her head, her expression softening slightly as she glanced at him. “No,” she said, her voice steadier now. “I need to do this on my own.”
With that, she turned and made her way toward the battlements, her thoughts swirling. Relief battled with anger, hope with doubt. As the cold wind hit her face upon stepping outside, she squared her shoulders, steeling herself for the reunion.
~~~
Ariana made her way to the battlements, the cold air brushing against her cheeks as she climbed the stairs. A mix of emotions churned within her—excitement to see Hawke, relief at the prospect of answers, and a faint, growing unease at Varric’s secrecy. She hadn’t seen Hawke since she and Fenris left the Ranger manor years ago, after everything had fallen apart. The thought of Hawke brought back memories of Kirkwall—of friendships forged in chaos, laughter amidst tragedy, and battles that had left their scars on all of them. But there was warmth, too, a camaraderie she hoped hadn’t faded.
Pushing open the tower door, she froze as the familiar figure turned to face her. The grin spreading across Hawke’s face was as warm as she remembered, and Ariana felt her own lips tugging upward in response.
“Hawke, it’s good to see you,” Ariana said warmly, closing the distance to give her a hug. The embrace was firm and grounding, a brief moment of familiarity in an otherwise unrelenting storm.
“It’s been a long time… Inquisitor,” Hawke teased, the playful tone softened by genuine warmth.
Ariana chuckled, shaking her head. “It has… Champion,” she replied, mimicking the exaggerated weight Hawke put on the title.
Hawke laughed, leaning her elbows on the stone wall. “Quite the view. Reminds me of looking out my balcony in Kirkwall. I loved it at first. But after a while, all I could see were the people out there, depending on me.”
“It’s all I can see now,” Ariana admitted, her voice softening. The weight of the Inquisition was still settling on her shoulders, and Hawke’s words resonated deeply. She thought of the villagers, the soldiers, and the Rangers who had followed her here. Their lives were intertwined with hers now, for better or worse.
“Hawke, I figured you might have some friendly advice about Corypheus. You and I did fight him, after all,” Varric interjected, his voice breaking through the moment as he approached them.
Ariana blinked, the words cutting through her thoughts like a blade. You and I… Her brow furrowed slightly as she turned to Varric, her mind catching on the phrasing. Varric knew about Corypheus all along. He hadn’t just heard about it—he had been there.
She arched an eyebrow at him, her tone sharper than before. “When exactly did this happen? And why is this the first I’m hearing of it?”
Hawke winced slightly, offering a sheepish smile. “It was after the Qunari uprising. Riley had just arrived in Kirkwall, and you were busy expanding the Rangers. Honestly, we weren’t trying to keep it from you. I think… well, there were just always other fires to put out.”
Ariana’s jaw tightened as she processed the information. She glanced at Varric, her gaze hardening briefly. You kept this from me. Why? But she let it go for the moment, refocusing on Hawke. “So, what can you tell me about him?”
“You’ve already dropped half a mountain on the bastard. I’m sure anything I can tell you pales in comparison,” Hawke replied with a chuckle.
“Tried to drop half a mountain, to be exact,” Ariana said dryly. “I buried Haven, and his Archdemon flew him to safety.” The frustration lingered in her voice, the failure still fresh in her mind. “What happened when you fought him? Who is he?”
“Fought and killed,” Hawke began, leaning back against the battlements. “The Grey Wardens were holding him, and somehow he used his connection to the darkspawn to influence them.”
Ariana blinked, her shock evident. “He can influence Grey Wardens?”
“Corypheus got into their heads,” Varric added, though he hesitated as Ariana turned her gaze to him.
She raised an eyebrow higher, her tone sharper. “So, you were there, Varric?” Her voice was calm, but the cutting edge was unmistakable. “That must be nice—knowing things about Corypheus and sharing them… eventually.”
Varric raised his hands defensively. “Easy, pup. It’s not like I’ve been sitting on this plan for years. I thought about it after Haven.”
Her chest tightened, frustration simmering beneath the surface. After Haven? When lives were lost, and I was nearly getting killed in an avalanche? She exhaled through her nose, turning her attention back to Hawke. “So, if the Wardens have disappeared, they could have fallen under his control again.”
“That’s a possibility,” Hawke said gravely. “And it’s not one we can ignore.”
“Wonderful,” Ariana muttered, her tone bitter. “The Venatori, the red Templars, an archdemon, and now potentially the Wardens? This is shaping up to be just fantastic.”
“I’ve got a friend in the Wardens,” Hawke offered. “Stroud. He mentioned corruption in their ranks the last time we spoke. Since then… nothing.”
Ariana frowned, her mind racing as she tried to piece together the scattered fragments of information. “Why didn’t I see anything about this in the future?” She murmured, trying to think through all the events she heard about.
“See?” Hawke’s voice cut through her thoughts, her brow furrowed in confusion.
“Walk with me,” Ariana said, cutting off Varric before he could being explaining with a raised hand. Her irritation bubbled to the surface again as she turned to Hawke. “It’s a long story.”
As Hawke fell into step beside her, Varric called after them, his voice light but laced with guilt. “Is now really the time for stories?”
Ariana glanced over her shoulder, her expression sharp. “Generally, whenever you know information that might be relevant, the right time for stories is as soon as possible,” she shot back, her pointed jab landing squarely on him.
Hawke raised an eyebrow, amused but silent as they walked. Ariana didn’t glance back again, though her frustration lingered, a knot in her chest that hadn’t been there before. She had trusted Varric implicitly, and while she could forgive his secrecy, the sting of betrayal wasn’t so easily dismissed.
As they reached the far end of the battlements, she glanced at Hawke, forcing herself to focus. This wasn’t about Varric—not right now. This was about the fight ahead. I’ll deal with Varric later, she thought, her resolve hardening as she began recounting the dark future she had seen. Hawke listened closely, her expression growing more serious with every word, yet having Hawke here gave her a measure of hope.