Tag: Dorian

  • Chapter 84 – The Heartbreak of Wisdom

    27 Solace – 12 August 9:41

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    They resumed walking, the conversation flowing naturally once more.

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

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

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

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

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

    ~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    ~~~

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

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

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

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

    But still, the rumors bothered him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    Cullen raised an eyebrow. “Our wedding?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    It was the truth.

    ~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    ~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    ~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    ~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    “I—Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    ~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    ~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    “And?” Riley prompted, her gaze sharp.

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

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

    “And she agreed,” Cullen added, defensively.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    Cullen’s expression tightened. “Kirkwall.”

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

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

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

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

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

  • Chapter 83 – In the Shadow of Trouble

    19 – 26 Solace 9:41

    When they finally reached Skyhold, Ariana was exhausted. The weight of everything that had happened—Crestwood, the Wardens, the mayor’s betrayal—pressed down on her shoulders like a cloak she couldn’t shrug off. But more than that, the nightmare from the other night clung to her like a shadow. It had been different. Sharper. The pain had lingered longer, wrapping itself around her arm and refusing to let go, even in the daylight.

    But as they passed through the gates, a familiar sound broke through her thoughts.

    Small footsteps pounded against the stone, followed by the bright, eager voice that never failed to tug at her heart.

    “Cullen!”

    Before Ariana could fully register the moment, Cullen had already handed off his horse’s reins to a nearby soldier. He barely had time to bend down before Emma collided with him, her arms wrapping tightly around his neck as he scooped her up with ease.

    He laughed, the sound warm and full, cutting through the exhaustion like sunlight through fog. “Were you waiting for me?”

    “Yes! Linnea said you’d be back soon!” Emma’s voice bubbled with excitement as she clung to him.

    Ariana couldn’t help the smile that crept onto her face. The way Cullen’s eyes softened when he looked at Emma, the way his arms wrapped around her with the ease of someone who had done it a hundred times before—it was a kind of joy Ariana didn’t see often, but when she did, it filled something inside her she hadn’t realized was empty.

    Cullen glanced over at Ariana, his smile lingering as he set Emma back down.

    “Do you have a report for me, recruit?” he asked, his voice dropping into a mock-serious tone that made Emma giggle.

    She straightened immediately, saluting him with exaggerated precision before launching into a detailed recount of her week. Cullen listened intently, nodding along, occasionally glancing back at Ariana with that same soft smile.

    When Emma tugged at his hand, eager to show him something she’d found, Cullen let her lead him away without hesitation.

    Ariana stood there, watching them go, until she felt a familiar presence at her side.

    “Quite the pair, those two,” Isabel murmured, stepping up beside her with a smile.

    Ariana’s gaze lingered on Cullen and Emma, their laughter echoing down the stone halls. “She calls him ‘uncle,’” Ariana said quietly, “but she doesn’t see him that way, does she?”

    It wasn’t really a question.

    Isabel shook her head, her smile softening. “No. And I will always be immensely grateful to you and Cullen for that. He’s been a father to her, even if he hasn’t entirely realized it.”

    Ariana felt a warmth bloom in her chest, even as the weight of exhaustion settled deeper in her bones. She wrapped an arm around Isabel’s shoulders, giving her a gentle squeeze. “Come now, Isabel. Don’t start getting all sentimental on me.”

    Isabel chuckled, nudging her lightly. “Oh, I know what you need, child.” She tipped her head toward the keep. “Off to the kitchen with you, then. Let’s get you fed.”

    Ariana’s smile widened as they made their way inside, the warmth of the halls wrapping around them like a familiar embrace. But beneath the surface of that comfort, a quiet unease lingered, like a shadow she couldn’t quite shake.

    The kitchen was warm and bustling, the scent of fresh bread and simmering stew filling the air. Ariana sank into a chair near the hearth, the warmth from the fire soothing the lingering chill in her bones. Isabel moved around the space with practiced ease, gathering food and muttering under her breath about how thin Ariana looked after every mission.

    But as Isabel set down a bowl of stew in front of her, she paused, her sharp eyes narrowing slightly.

    “You’re smiling,” Isabel observed, her tone light but curious. “But it’s different.”

    Ariana blinked, surprised, then chuckled softly. She dipped her spoon into the bowl, stirring absentmindedly. “Cullen wants to get married.”

    Isabel raised an eyebrow, not immediately understanding. “You’re already engaged.”

    Ariana shook her head, setting the spoon down. “No, I mean… he wants to get married. He’s ready. He doesn’t want to wait anymore.”

    For a moment, Isabel said nothing, her expression unreadable. Then, realization dawned, and she let out a quiet laugh, shaking her head.

    “Are you telling me we need to plan a wedding right now?”

    Ariana’s smile grew, warmth blooming in her chest despite the fatigue. “I think we do.”

    But even as they laughed, even as they leaned into the joy of the moment, Ariana felt the dark undercurrent tug at the edges of her mind. The nightmare still lingered. The pain in her arm wasn’t just a memory—it was a reminder. A shadow she couldn’t outrun.

    And no matter how much light Cullen and Emma brought into her life, a part of her couldn’t shake the feeling that some things refused to stay buried. She told herself he was dead—that the wounds she left him with were enough. But even now, when the world was quiet, that certainty wavered.

    ~~~

    Cullen’s boots echoed softly against the stone floors of Skyhold’s halls as he made his way back to their quarters. The day had been long—filled with meetings, catching up on reports, and organizing the new troops stationed at Caer Bronach. But despite the exhaustion settling into his shoulders, there was a lingering warmth from the hours he’d spent with Emma earlier. Her laughter, her stories, the way her hand fit so easily in his—those were the moments that grounded him.

    But as he opened the door to their quarters, that warmth faded, replaced by a quiet tension that settled in his chest.

    Ariana was there, sitting on the couch by the hearth, her house robe loosely tied at the waist. A book rested on her lap, but she wasn’t reading it. Her head was leaned back against the armrest, eyes closed, and her right hand was absently rubbing her left forearm. The glass of whiskey on the table beside her was nearly untouched.

    What struck him most, though, was her stillness. She hadn’t reacted to his presence—no flicker of acknowledgment, no shift in posture. That wasn’t like her. Ariana was always aware, always tuned to the smallest change in her surroundings. But now, it was as if she wasn’t entirely there.

    He walked over quietly, his brow furrowing as he approached. Trying not to press too hard, he kept his tone light. “What are you reading?”

    Ariana’s body tensed for a brief second, her eyes fluttering open in surprise. It was a fleeting reaction, but Cullen caught it—the way her breath hitched just slightly before she masked it with a practiced smile.

    She held up the book, her voice casual. “The Viper’s Nest. One of Varric’s earlier works.”

    Cullen sat down beside her, his eyes scanning her face, looking for any cracks in the facade. “Is it any good?”

    She chuckled softly, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “It’s no Hard in Hightown, but it’s not bad.”

    He nodded, letting the silence stretch for a moment, hoping she’d fill it with something—anything. But she didn’t. Her fingers drifted back to her forearm, the motion absent, like she wasn’t even aware she was doing it.

    Cullen shifted, leaning closer, his voice softer now. “Ari, are you alright?”

    For a split second, he saw it—a flicker of something in her eyes. Fear. But just as quickly, it was gone, hidden behind that same carefully constructed smile.

    “I’m fine,” she said, her tone light, dismissive. “Just tired.”

    He wasn’t convinced. Not even close.

    “You know you can tell me anything,” he said gently, his hand finding hers, squeezing it lightly.

    Ariana’s smile didn’t falter, but her eyes drifted away from his. “There’s nothing to tell,” she murmured, before meeting his gaze again. “Come to bed, Cullen. I could use some sleep in an actual bed.”

    He hesitated for a moment, searching her face for any sign she might let him in. But all he found was that same guarded expression, the wall she had built around whatever haunted her.

    Finally, he nodded, rising to his feet and offering her his hand. “Alright.”

    They moved to the bed, settling beneath the covers. Ariana curled against him, her head resting on his chest, her breathing slowing as sleep began to claim her.

    But Cullen remained awake, his fingers trailing through her hair as his mind replayed the night’s events. He could feel the tension still lingering in her body, even in sleep. The way she had been rubbing her arm, the flicker of fear in her eyes—it all pointed to something deeper, something she wasn’t ready to share.

    He tightened his hold on her, his resolve firm. Whatever it was, he would be here. And when she was ready, he would be the one she could lean on.

    But for now, he kept watch, his eyes fixed on the darkened ceiling, afraid of what the night might bring.

    ~~~

    The days following their return to Skyhold were a blur of duties and distractions. But it didn’t escape Cullen’s notice how Ariana was filling her time. She was waking up early, heading to the training grounds before dawn to spar with recruits and Rangers alike. She buried herself in reports more than usual, consulting with Leliana and Josephine on every matter that required attention—and even those that didn’t. She was trying to distract herself.

    His only consolation was that, so far, she hadn’t had any more nightmares. She had mostly stopped rubbing her arm, but the memory of that motion still gnawed at him. There were no scars on her arm—not there, anyway. He would have noticed by now if there were. He wondered if it was a nervous, unconscious compulsion. But that didn’t sound right. Not for her.

    Cullen was lost in thought, staring at the scattered papers on his desk, when a knock at the door pulled him from his reverie.

    “Commander?”

    He looked up to see Dorian standing in the doorway, a casual, almost mischievous smile playing on his lips.

    “Care for a game of chess?” Dorian asked, stepping into the room as if the answer was already a given.

    Cullen blinked, momentarily taken aback. “Chess?”

    Dorian raised an eyebrow. “Yes, chess. I’ve been told you’re an exceptional player, and I’m in need of a worthy opponent.”

    Cullen opened his mouth to decline, the weight of his responsibilities pressing at the edges of his mind. But after a moment, he paused. Maybe a match would do him some good.

    “Alright,” he said, standing. “Let’s go.”

    They made their way to the Skyhold gardens, finding a quiet table under the soft glow of lantern light. The game started quickly, each move calculated and deliberate.

    “Gloat all you like. I have this one,” Cullen smirked, moving a piece with confidence.

    “Are you sassing me, Commander? I didn’t know you had it in you,” Dorian quipped, his eyes gleaming.

    Cullen chuckled, ready to respond, but his words caught in his throat as he spotted movement out of the corner of his eye.

    “Why do I even—Ariana.” His tone softened as he saw her approaching, her steps light but purposeful. He began to stand, but Ariana waved him off.

    “Leaving, are you? Does this mean I win?” Dorian teased.

    “Don’t let me interrupt. You’re about to win, after all.” Her smile playful.

    “Darling, please. You need to let your Commander come to terms with my inevitable victory. He’ll feel much better that way,” Dorian added with a smirk.

    “Really? Because I just won,” Cullen said, his smirk widening as the final piece of his strategy played out.

    Dorian stared at the board, his eyes narrowing as he studied the position.

    Ariana laughed—a genuine, lighthearted sound that Cullen hadn’t heard in days. It warmed something inside him.

    “Wait, Dorian… is this the first time you’ve played against Cullen?” she asked, her amusement clear.

    “Don’t get smug. There will be no living with you,” Dorian huffed, standing and brushing off his tunic before turning to Cullen. “We’ll have a rematch.”

    As Dorian walked away, Ariana took the now-empty seat across from Cullen, her eyes still bright with laughter.

    “You didn’t warn him?” she teased.

    “He said he’d been told I was good at chess. Didn’t think he needed a warning,” Cullen replied, shaking his head with a smile. “I should probably return to my duties… unless you would care for a game?”

    Ariana’s eyes sparkled, the playful teasing back in her expression. It was a relief to see, even if it was just for now.

    “Very well. Prepare the board, Commander.”

    As their match continued, Cullen felt a mixture of relief and lingering concern. Yes, she seemed better today. She seemed herself. But it only made him realize how easily she could bury whatever haunted her. With time, she would always mask it, push it deep enough that even he might forget—until it surfaced again. She wasn’t dealing with it. She wasn’t processing it.

    She was just burying it deep enough to not think about it most days.

    And if anyone knew what that was like, it was him.

    ~~~

    Ariana had found a steady routine that helped settle her mind. Just as Cullen had promised, he enabled her to train recruits in the mornings, and along with Lamberto and Valentina, they spent their time in the training yard with the new Inquisition recruits. Even Riley was getting more comfortable handling the early morning gathering of reports and concerns from Cullen, Leliana, and Josephine so Ariana didn’t have to.

    I need to pay her more… Ariana chuckled to herself.

    As she stood at the training yard watching over the recruits, a peculiar sight caught her attention. An arrival—another visiting noble, by the look of it. A parade of guards surrounded the guest. Yet someone else wants to meet the famed Inquisitor, she sighed. She could already see Josephine exiting the main hall, ready to handle it, so she turned her attention back to the recruits.

    “What’s this? The Inquisitor can’t be bothered to greet her guests?” A familiar voice teased, pulling her attention back.

    Ariana’s heart leapt, relief flooding through her as she turned toward the voice. Fred.

    There he was, still standing beside his horse, a smirk on his face. She barely registered Josephine’s alarmed expression before she took off, sprinting towards Frederick.

    When she reached him, she jumped, wrapping her arms and legs around him. Frederick caught her with the ease of years of practice, their reunion effortless despite the time apart.

    Without opening her eyes, she could feel the stares around her—could practically hear Josephine’s gasp at the Inquisitor’s unseemly display with a visiting noble.

    Ariana pulled back slightly but didn’t let him set her down. “What are you doing here, Fred? No one told me you were coming.”

    “Maker, I’ve missed you, Ari,” Frederick murmured, pulling her into another tight hug before finally setting her down. “Are you alright?”

    Ariana shrugged, raising her left hand. “Eh, I glow now… don’t get me started,” she replied with a mock-defeated tone.

    Josephine finally stepped forward, clearing her throat delicately. “Inquisitor… I believe it may be… appropriate to let Lord Decken get settled.”

    Ariana turned to Josephine, arching an eyebrow at the unexpected interruption. Then she looked back at Frederick, her grin returning. “Do you need to get settled, Fred?” she asked knowingly.

    “Of course not. Where are we going?” Frederick smirked.

    “Lord Decken,” one of his attendants interjected, his voice formal and stiff. “I believe Lady Montilyet has the right of it. We should get settled first. It has been a long journey.”

    Ariana wasn’t sure she had ever heard anyone speak so formally—not even her mother.

    Frederick subtly motioned behind her, his smirk deepening. Without hesitation, Ariana intertwined her hand with his, and they both took off running back toward the stables. She knew from there they could sneak into the kitchens, make their way to the basement of Skyhold, and lose everyone who might try to follow.

    ~~~

    From his vantage point on the battlements just outside his office, Cullen observed the scene unfolding in the courtyard below. The arrival of another noble was nothing new—Skyhold had become a revolving door of political figures—but Ariana’s reaction was anything but typical.

    “What’s this? The Inquisitor can’t be bothered to greet her guests?” a familiar voice called out.

    Cullen’s eyes narrowed slightly before widening in recognition as he saw Ariana’s entire demeanor shift. Without a moment’s hesitation, she sprinted toward the man—Frederick Decken.

    Cullen watched as she leapt into Frederick’s arms, her laughter ringing out as he caught her with practiced ease. The way they clung to each other, they hadn’t seen each other in a long time and clearly missed each other.

    But it wasn’t the display that caught Cullen’s attention. It was Josephine’s expression just beyond the courtyard—a mix of alarm, confusion, and what Cullen could only describe as outright panic.

    A slow grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. She doesn’t know.

    As Ariana and Frederick disappeared toward the stables, Cullen descended from the battlements, making his way down to where Josephine stood, still staring after them with wide eyes. When she finally noticed Cullen approaching, her face paled.

    Perfect.

    “Josephine,” Cullen greeted, his tone light as he approached. “What’s the matter?”

    Josephine blinked rapidly, clearly trying to collect herself. “I—Commander… I…” She stumbled over her words, glancing back toward where Ariana and Frederick had disappeared. “I’m not exactly sure what just happened.”

    Cullen let out a low chuckle, crossing his arms over his chest. “Ah, well…” He paused for dramatic effect, watching as Josephine’s anxiety visibly increased. “You see, Ariana was engaged to Frederick before.”

    Josephine’s eyes widened even further, her mouth opening slightly in shock. “Engaged?” she echoed, her voice almost a whisper. “I… Commander, I’m so sorry… I didn’t realize… I hope nothing happened in Crestwood…”

    Cullen couldn’t hold back the laughter that bubbled up, his amusement catching Josephine completely off guard. “Nothing happened in Crestwood,” he assured her between chuckles. “Frederick is Ariana’s best friend. They grew up together.”

    Josephine blinked, her confusion deepening. “But… the engagement?”

    “Ah, yes,” Cullen nodded, still smiling. “That was their parents’ doing. It’s actually what caused Ariana to run away in the first place.”

    Josephine’s posture finally began to relax, though a hint of discomfort lingered. “I see…” She glanced toward the courtyard again, shaking her head slightly. “Still, that behavior… it wasn’t exactly appropriate for the Inquisitor to display.”

    Cullen’s smile softened, but there was a note of firmness in his voice when he replied. “What is appropriate for the Inquisitor will be decided by Ariana alone.” He met Josephine’s gaze steadily. “We chose to make Ariana Trevelyan—the black sheep of the Trevelyan family, the White Wolf of the Silver Rangers—Inquisitor. This is who she is.”

    Josephine held his gaze for a moment longer before nodding slowly. “Of course, Commander,” she said quietly, though the unease in her expression hadn’t entirely faded.

    Cullen watched as she turned and walked away, his smile lingering. Ariana was many things—a noble, a leader, a friend. But most importantly, she was herself. And that was exactly who Thedas needed.

    ~~~

    Ariana led Frederick through the dimly lit basement corridors of Skyhold, their footsteps echoing softly off the stone walls. The faint scent of aged parchment and cool earth clung to the air, a familiar comfort within the fortress’s ancient bones. They ascended the stairs toward the main hall, their pace unhurried, savoring the rare chance to catch up in private.

    As they passed through the bustling main hall and began to climb the staircase toward the library, Ariana noticed the glances—the whispered murmurs from visiting nobles speculating about the nature of their relationship. She caught Frederick’s eye, and they both shared a knowing smile.

    “Let them wonder,” she murmured.

    “It’s not as if it’s the first time,” Frederick replied with a smirk.

    Reaching the library, Ariana’s gaze immediately found Dorian, seated near one of the tall windows, a letter in his hand. His usual confident posture was there, but something about his expression seemed off—subdued, almost distant.

    “Dorian,” Ariana called softly, approaching with Frederick at her side. “I’d like you to meet someone.”

    Dorian looked up, his smile appearing out of habit but not quite reaching his eyes. “Ah, the famous friend,” he said, standing to greet them. But Ariana noticed the letter in his hand, the slight tremor in his fingers as he set it aside.

    “Dorian, are you alright?” she asked, her eyes flicking between him and the letter.

    His smile softened, a bittersweet edge to it. “A letter regarding Felix,” he began. “He went to the Magisterium. Stood on the senate floor and told them of you. A glowing testimonial, I’m informed. No news on the reaction, but everyone back home is talking. Felix always was as good as his word.”

    “Was?” The word caught in Ariana’s throat, her eyes narrowing slightly.

    Dorian’s smile wavered, and he nodded slowly. “He passed. The Blight finally caught up with him.”

    Ariana reached out, resting a hand on his arm. “I’m so sorry, Dorian. Are you alright?”

    Dorian’s gaze drifted toward the window, his voice quieter now. “Felix used to sneak me treats from the kitchens when I was working late in his father’s study. ‘Don’t get into trouble on my behalf,’ I’d tell him. ‘I like trouble,’ he’d say.” He chuckled softly, the sound tinged with sadness. “Tevinter could use more mages like him—those who put the good of others above themselves.”

    Ariana squeezed his arm gently. “You make it sound like he was a better person than you.”

    Dorian’s eyes flicked back to hers, a spark of his usual charm returning. “What a mad thing to say. Few people are better than I.” He paused, his grin widening slightly. “Very well. A better person, clearly. Not nearly as handsome.”

    Ariana chuckled, grateful to see him returning to himself. “Come now, a good friend once told me there’s nothing a good bottle of wine can’t fix.”

    “Truer words have never been spoken,” Dorian agreed, looping his arm through hers. “Besides, then I can get to know this handsome man you’ve brought me.” He turned to Frederick, eyes gleaming with mischief. “So you’re the famous best friend… he’s quite handsome. Why didn’t you want to marry this man?”

    “Maker save me. I should have seen that coming,” Ariana sighed, rolling her eyes.

    Frederick laughed, his arm resting casually on Ariana’s shoulder. “I’ve asked so many times, she can never tell me.”

    Their banter continued all the way to the tavern, much to Ariana’s regret—though the warmth it brought, seeing them both lighten, was something she wouldn’t trade for anything.

    ~~~

    The Herald’s Rest was already buzzing with the usual evening crowd, but their arrival brought a new energy to the room. They claimed a large table near the hearth, ordering wine and ale with little regard for how quickly the drinks began to flow.

    It wasn’t long before Hawke and Varric sauntered in, their expressions lighting up at the sight of Ariana and Frederick.

    “Well, look who’s back,” Varric grinned, clapping Frederick on the back. “And bringing trouble with him, I see.”

    “You’re just jealous you can’t pull off ‘trouble’ as well as I do,” Frederick shot back, earning a hearty laugh from Varric.

    Hawke slid into a seat beside Ariana, eyeing the growing collection of bottles on the table. “Starting without us? That’s hardly fair.”

    “We were just warming up,” Ariana smirked, pouring another round.

    Before long, Michael and Linnea joined them, their arrival greeted with cheers and more than a few sarcastic remarks about their timing. As they settled in, Ariana shot her brother a mischievous glance.

    “Oh, by the way,” she said, loud enough for the whole table to hear, “I just found out that Michael and Linnea are doing more than just sneaking around.”

    Hawke nearly choked on her drink, and Varric’s eyebrows shot up. “Wait, what?” Varric exclaimed, grinning. “The templar and the Ranger’s spymaster?”

    “Apparently,” Ariana teased, her smirk widening. “At this rate, they’ll probably get married before I do.”

    Michael looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole, his face turning a shade of red that matched the wine in his glass. Linnea, on the other hand, just laughed, tossing her arm around his shoulders.

    “Can’t rush perfection,” Linnea quipped, winking at Ariana.

    Inevitably, someone, probably Hawke, produced a deck of Wicked Grace cards, and the games began. Bets were placed, each round more outrageous than the last. The stakes shifted from coin to increasingly inappropriate dares, much to Ariana’s growing amusement, and slight dread.

    “Alright,” Varric declared after a particularly dramatic hand, “three rounds from now, loser’s climbs the highest point in Skyhold.”

    “You’re all going to regret that,” Michael muttered, narrowing his eyes at his cards.

    By the time Leliana slipped in, the table was a chaotic mess of empty bottles, scattered cards, and increasingly rowdy laughter.

    “I see I’ve missed quite the gathering,” Leliana remarked, her voice smooth but amused as she leaned against the nearest post. “But it’s not a real party until someone’s smallclothes are pinned to a Chantry board.”

    Ariana blinked, then turned to her with mock-seriousness. “Do we… do we even have a Chantry board in Skyhold?”

    “We can improvise,” Leliana replied with a wink, smoothly taking over the deck of cards. “Now, are you all ready for a real game?”

    Somewhere in the chaos, someone’s smallclothes—Ariana never did find out whose—ended up dangling from a chandelier, and by the time they stumbled out into the cool night air, Ariana couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed so hard.

    ~~~

    Cullen had just returned from his office, the weight of reports and strategic planning lingering in the back of his mind. He’d already shed his armor, the familiar weight replaced by the loose comfort of his linen shirt and trousers. As he set down the last of his reports on the desk, the door to their quarters creaked open, revealing Ariana.

    Her cheeks were flushed from the cold—and perhaps from something stronger—and her steps were just the slightest bit unsteady. But her smile? Radiant, wide, and unapologetically free in a way Cullen rarely saw.

    He leaned against the desk, arms crossed over his chest, his gaze softening as he watched her kick off her boots with a graceless thud. “I heard about quite the events at the tavern tonight,” he remarked, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smile.

    Ariana’s laugh was light, bubbling from her chest as she flopped onto the edge of the bed. “Someone lost their smallclothes, apparently,” she said, waving a hand dismissively. “Though, I’m not entirely sure who. Details are… foggy.”

    Cullen chuckled, pushing off from the desk and making his way closer. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her like this—so loose, so unburdened, even if only for a night.

    “Foggy, hmm?” he teased. “And here I thought you had an ironclad memory.”

    “Not when Leliana’s involved,” Ariana groaned, flopping back against the pillows. “I’m also fairly certain I lost more gold tonight than I ever have before.”

    “To Leliana?” Cullen asked, feigning surprise. “I’m shocked.”

    “It’s criminal,” Ariana muttered, though her grin betrayed her amusement. She tilted her head toward him, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Do we even have a Chantry board in Skyhold?”

    Cullen blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in topic. “A Chantry board?”

    Ariana snickered at his confusion. “Leliana said it’s not a real party until someone’s smallclothes are pinned to a Chantry board. I was just… wondering.”

    Cullen laughed, shaking his head as he moved to sit on the edge of the bed beside her. “I’m not sure I want to know the answer to that.”

    “Probably wise,” she agreed, her laughter softening as she leaned into him.

    He turned to her, his eyes scanning her flushed cheeks, the relaxed lines of her face. This was a version of Ariana he’d rarely seen—unguarded, carefree, and just a little reckless. And he found he liked it. More than he expected.

    “So,” he began, his tone light but teasing, “should I be checking if you still have your smallclothes?”

    Ariana’s eyes sparkled with laughter, but she caught the insinuation easily, leaning back on her elbows. “You probably should,” she teased, her voice dropping slightly. “But… if they’re still there, I wouldn’t mind if you removed them.”

    Cullen didn’t hesitate. In an instant, his hands found her waist as he leaned in close. Ariana let out a surprised laugh, her arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him toward her with playful ease.

    She grinned up at him, her breath catching as his weight settled beside her, his lips brushing against hers with a hunger that sent a thrill down her spine.

    “You’re trouble tonight,” he murmured against her skin, his fingers tracing the curve of her waist.

    “You like trouble,” she whispered back, pulling him closer.

    Cullen chuckled, pulling back just enough to meet her eyes. “Is this something I should expect more often?”

    Ariana shrugged, her grin never faltering. “Maybe.”

    He studied her for a moment, his heart swelling with a mix of affection and curiosity. He was more certain than ever that he wanted to do everything in his power to let her have as many nights like this as she wanted. To relieve her of the burdens that prevented it.

    “Then I’ll be ready,” he whispered, capturing her lips again in a kiss that promised he’d follow her into whatever chaos she brought.

    ~~~

    Ariana sat at the war table, her head resting in her hand, fingers pressing against her temple as if she could will the pounding headache away. Leliana sat beside her, looking equally miserable, her usual sharp gaze dulled by the clear effects of too much wine. The room felt too bright, the reports too loud, and the voices, Maker help her, were unbearable.

    “Could we please keep the voices down?” Ariana muttered, not even attempting to mask the irritation in her tone.

    Leliana groaned in agreement, waving a dismissive hand toward Josephine, who was speaking far too cheerfully for this hour. “I agree with the Inquisitor. There is no need to be speak so loudly.”

    Josephine’s lips twitched, but she wisely refrained from commenting. Across the table, Cullen exchanged a knowing glance with Riley, both of them clearly amused by the sorry state of their Inquisitor and spymaster.

    As they flipped through another report, Ariana suddenly huffed. “I need a rematch in Wicked Grace. I need to make some of that gold back.”

    Riley snorted, leaning back in her chair with a smug grin. “You lost at Wicked Grace? How much did you lose, Wolf?” Her tone was all mockery, the kind of baiting Ariana knew all too well.

    Ariana didn’t miss a beat. “I just gambled away your salary for the next few months.”

    Riley’s eyes widened, alarm flickering across her face. “You better be planning to win it back!”

    Ariana smirked, waving her off lazily. “You’re probably one of the richest people in this room, Riley. You’ll be fine not getting paid for a few months.”

    Riley shot her a glare that could’ve burned through stone, but Ariana just chuckled and flipped the next report over.

    Cullen finally cleared his throat, the hint of a smile still tugging at his lips. “We’ve received a report from a young hopeful looking to help the Inquisition.”

    He picked up a letter, reading it aloud with just enough seriousness to make Ariana’s headache throb a little more:

    To the Inquisition,

    I found bandits stalking your patrols. They are the usual kind, and I can show your people where they are. I’d have tried to stop them, but they have swords, and I don’t. If you have extra, I will help. I want to help.

    D. Sutherland

    Ariana blinked, trying to focus through the fog in her brain. “I met the boy in the tavern the other day. Seems eager to help.”

    Cullen nodded thoughtfully. “He already knows where to find the bandits. I say equip him well, and let him handle it.”

    Ariana considered for a moment before nodding. “He deserves a chance. But send a Ranger with him—just in case.”

    Riley gave a small nod, jotting down a quick note.

    Ariana straightened slightly, trying not to groan as her headache protested the movement. “Any updates on finding the mayor of Crestwood?”

    Leliana, still looking like she’d prefer to crawl back into bed, shook her head. “Not yet. But he’ll need supplies soon enough. My agents can inquire along the roads out of Crestwood. We’ll catch him when he tries to resupply.”

    Ariana nodded. “Do it.” She turned to Riley. “Let Arl Teagan know we’re looking for the mayor and why.”

    Then to Josephine, “And send word to King Alistair. Include the letter the mayor left, confessing what he did.”

    Both women nodded, scribbling notes before gathering their papers.

    “Anything else?” Ariana asked, already dreading the possibility of more reports.

    When no one spoke, she waved them off. “Good. Dismissed.”

    Riley, Josephine, and Leliana filed out, leaving the war room blessedly quiet. Ariana leaned heavily against the table, trying to steady herself, as Cullen approached, his expression far too amused for her liking.

    He stopped beside her, his arms crossed over his chest, that smug, knowing look on his face. “Rough night?”

    Ariana groaned, letting herself lean against him, grateful for his warmth and steady presence. “I need to go back to bed.”

    Cullen chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “You think you’ll survive until then?”

    Ariana sighed dramatically. “I might not.”

    Cullen laughed again, guiding her gently toward the door. “Come on, Inquisitor. Let’s get you to bed before you start gambling away my salary.”

    Ariana blinked, her steps slow as she leaned more heavily into him. “Do I pay you?” she muttered, brows furrowing in confusion. “I don’t think I pay you… The Inquisition pays you.”

    Cullen chuckled, tightening his hold around her waist. “So, my salary is safe then?”

    Ariana gave a small, exaggerated nod, her voice muffled against his shoulder. “Probably.”

    Cullen shook his head, amusement flickering in his eyes as he steered her down the hall. “That’s reassuring.”

  • Chapter 82 – The Weight of the Past

    6 – 18 Solace 9:41

    Between Haven and Skyhold, Ariana had started to settle into a routine—or at least, as much of a routine as someone in her position could manage. A little over a month had passed since she had been named Inquisitor, and she was still learning how to navigate the expectations that came with it. Some things were easier than others.

    The war council meetings, however, remained the worst.

    It wasn’t the reports or the decisions. She had handled far worse as a Ranger—harder choices, more dangerous outcomes. The difference was that now everyone looked to her before a choice was made. It wasn’t a discussion among equals; it was her judgment, her word that carried the weight of the Inquisition’s will. And she hated it.

    The only reason she tolerated these meetings at all was Riley.

    Cullen might have been her anchor, her steady support, but in meetings like these, he didn’t know how not to be ‘Commander Cullen.’ His role was too ingrained, too formal. His concern was real—she never doubted that—but he still spoke to her as Inquisitor Trevelyan.

    Riley didn’t. Riley never did.

    Which was probably why Leliana and Josephine both looked mildly horrified half the time Riley opened her mouth.

    Ariana sat at the head of the table, half-listening as the advisors traded reports. At some point, she had completely stopped paying attention. She wasn’t sure when it happened, only that she had been watching Riley interject, handling all Ranger operations as easily as if this were one of their old strategy meetings.

    Then Cullen spoke, his voice low and careful, pulling her abruptly back to the present. “Inquisitor.” The way he said it, quiet, concerned, made it clear he had been watching her for a while. “Is something wrong?”

    Ariana straightened, forcing herself to focus. “What? No, I’m fine.”

    The words left her mouth too fast, too rehearsed. Cullen’s brow creased slightly, and she could see the exact moment he didn’t believe her.

    Before he could press the matter, Riley scoffed. “Bullshit.”

    Josephine stiffened visibly, her hands tightening around a rolled-up parchment. Leliana’s lips thinned, and she cast a sidelong glance at Riley as if debating whether to intervene.

    Ariana, however, just laughed. Genuinely. For the first time that morning.

    “Well,” she said, still chuckling, “you seemed to have everything well in hand, Riley.”

    “I don’t want your job, Wolf.” Riley shot her an unimpressed look. “They named you Inquisitor, not me.”

    Ariana groaned, rubbing her eyes in mock exasperation. “Fine. What do you want from me now?”

    Riley leaned back in her chair, arms crossed. “Crestwood. Undead. Hawke’s friend. You handling it, or am I writing back that the Inquisitor is too busy to deal with corpses today?”

    Crestwood.

    Ariana froze. Just for a second. Just long enough that Cullen noticed. She forced herself to keep her tone light. “Right. Crestwood…”

    She exhaled, gaze shifting past Riley, toward the windows, where the sun cast long streaks of light across the stone floor.

    She had avoided that place for years. If the Rangers had a job anywhere near the region, she had always sent others. Always. Crestwood wasn’t just another mission. It was a reminder.

    If it hadn’t flooded, she might have made it back to Kinloch Hold. If it hadn’t flooded, Cullen might not have stopped looking for her. If it hadn’t flooded, maybe everything would have been different.

    She didn’t want to go back. Which was exactly why she needed to.

    Ariana pushed herself up from the chair. “Sure. Let’s go, Riley.” She motioned toward the door.

    Riley frowned, clearly thrown off. “Wait, what?”

    “I had to handle the last set of undead by myself. You can handle these.” Ariana smirked, already moving toward the exit.

    Riley scoffed. “You don’t pay me for that, Wolf.”

    “You’re right, I pay you for way more than that.” Ariana shot her a pointed look. “We’re going. You’re coming with me.”

    Riley groaned but didn’t argue further, pushing up from her chair. “Not happy about this, Wolf.”

    “You’re never happy about any job, Riley.”

    A pointed silence settled over the room as Ariana reached for the door. That was when she felt Cullen’s eyes on her again.

    She turned back, catching his expression—a flicker of something just beneath the surface.

    His concern hadn’t faded. If anything, it had deepened.

    “Is there anything else?” she asked the room, letting her gaze flick between Josephine, Leliana, and Cullen.

    Cullen straightened, his hands loosely clasped behind his back.

    “Nothing requiring your immediate attention.” The words were measured, but there was a new edge to his tone. Something unresolved.

    Josephine and Leliana exchanged a glance before nodding their agreement.

    Ariana gave a mock salute. “Very well. Come on, Riley. Seems like we have another town to save.”

    Riley followed, grumbling under her breath as she fell into step beside her. “Seriously, this is the worst.”

    Ariana grinned. “And yet, here you are.”

    ~~~

    The wind was colder than Ariana remembered.

    It whipped across the hills, carrying the damp scent of the valley below, the first hints of the ruins waiting for them beyond the next rise. She kept her posture easy, her hands steady on the reins, but she felt Riley’s gaze flick toward her more than once. It would only a matter of time before she said something.

    “So,” Riley drawled at last, shifting in her saddle. “We talking about it, or are you just going to keep staring into the distance all broody-like?”

    Ariana smirked, not looking at her. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

    “Right.” Riley scoffed. “So it’s just coincidence that you suddenly can’t focus on a war council, and now we’re riding straight into the place you’ve spent years avoiding?”

    Varric hummed from the other side of the group, flipping a gold coin between his fingers. “Riley’s got a point, pup. This is definitely avoidance material.”

    Dorian, who had been otherwise occupied adjusting the cuffs of his far too expensive cloak, raised a brow. “You do realize I’m sitting right here, yes? If there’s something of interest, by all means, don’t let me stop you.”

    Ariana sighed, knowing full well Riley wasn’t going to let this go. “It’s not important.”

    “Oh, that’s bullshit,” Riley snapped.

    Varric chuckled. “Definitely bullshit.”

    Dorian perked up. “Now I am interested.”

    Ariana let out a slow breath, watching the road ahead. The hills were rising now, the land sloping toward the valley—toward Crestwood. The air smelled the same. Felt the same. She clenched her fingers around the reins.

    “I waited for him here,” she said at last, her voice quieter than before.

    The group fell silent.

    Riley didn’t need to ask who. Neither did Varric.

    Ariana inhaled deeply before continuing. “After the Tower sealed its doors, I had nowhere to go. But I wasn’t leaving without him, so I wrote Cullen a letter and left it at the Spoiled Princess. I told him I’d stay in Crestwood as long as I could.”

    Her jaw tightened. “I waited.”

    A gust of wind caught the edge of her cloak, sending it billowing slightly behind her. “I waited until the darkspawn came.”

    Riley’s expression had darkened. “And then the dam broke.”

    Ariana nodded. “By the time I knew what was happening, the valley was gone. I had no choice—I had to run.”

    She exhaled, voice quieter now. “Months later, I made it back to Kinloch Hold.”

    Varric’s coin stilled between his fingers. Riley sat up straighter.

    Dorian frowned. “Then why—?”

    “He was already gone.” Ariana didn’t look at them. She kept her eyes ahead, Crestwood looming ever closer. “No one knew where.”

    For the first time in a long while, Riley didn’t have a snarky retort.

    Ariana huffed a humorless laugh. “If Crestwood hadn’t flooded, I would have gone back to the Tower before the worst of it. I never would have been alone during the Blight.”

    Her fingers curled tighter around the reins.

    “I never would have met him.

    Riley scoffed, shaking her head. “She never would have met us.

    Dorian arched a brow. “Us?”

    Varric sighed, rolling the coin over his knuckles. “She never would have needed saving.”

    Dorian’s gaze flicked back to Ariana, curiosity dancing in his expression. “Ah.”

    Ariana didn’t answer.

    Riley and Varric exchanged a look, their expressions shifting to something carefully neutral.

    “Doesn’t matter,” Riley muttered.

    Dorian narrowed his eyes slightly. “Ah. One of those stories.”

    Ariana let out a slow breath, looking ahead toward the ruins of Crestwood in the distance. “One of those stories.” she whispered.

    No one pushed further.

    ~~~

    Crestwood was a mess.

    The village sat in the shadow of its own past, half-sunken and surrounded by things that should have stayed dead. The undead crawled from the waterlogged ruins, their bones slick with rot, while the town itself teetered between fear and resignation. A massive rift churned in the middle of the lake, casting an eerie green glow against the water’s surface.

    The problem? They couldn’t get to it.

    The villagers muttered about the lake being too deep, the undead too many. The mayor—the same man who had been in charge the last time Ariana was here—seemed particularly uninterested in resolving the issue.

    Ariana folded her arms, watching as he tried, yet again, to convince them to walk away.

    “You’re certain this is necessary?” the mayor said, rubbing his hands together anxiously.

    Ariana arched a brow. “You have undead pouring out of your lake. Do you think it’s not necessary?”

    He flinched but didn’t back down. “There are risks to tampering with the dam. You should leave it be.”

    Riley, standing just behind Ariana, let out a long, slow exhale that wasn’t quite a sigh. “Oh, I don’t like this guy.”

    Ariana definitely didn’t like this guy. She had lingering memories of him from years ago—back when Crestwood had been quiet, when it had been nothing more than a peaceful village along the water.

    Back when she had thought she had time to wait.

    She forced the thought away, her gaze narrowing at the mayor. “The undead aren’t going to stop unless we close that rift. How do we get to it?”

    The mayor hesitated. “The dam controls broke during the Blight,” he said at last. “Even if you wanted to try, you’d have to go through Caer Bronach.”

    Ariana’s breath hitched.

    Caer Bronach.

    For a moment, she saw not the keep of today, but the ruins of yesterday. She remembered walking through its broken halls, long before she ever met Cullen, wondering what it must have been like when it still stood strong.

    And now?

    Now it was occupied by bandits. Of course it was.

    Ariana exhaled slowly. “It’s never easy, is it?”

    “Nope.” Riley popped the ‘p,’ already smirking.

    Ariana turned, motioning vaguely at the village. “Want to clear out the undead? First, go clear out a keep. Then, fix some dam controls. Then, go find and close a rift.” She let out an exaggerated sigh. “Maker’s breath, I miss when my biggest problem was stealing intercepting mage transports.”

    “You signed us up for this, Wolf.” Riley leaned against a nearby post, arms crossed.

    Ariana waved her left hand dramatically, the mark flaring faintly with green light. “I didn’t sign up for this. I’m just stuck with this.”

    Varric chuckled. “And yet, here we are.”

    Dorian, who had been listening with increasing amusement, sighed theatrically. “Let me guess. Now we have to storm a keep.”

    Ariana grinned. “Now we have to storm a keep.”

    Dorian pinched the bridge of his nose. “You know, I had plans for today that did not involve wading through more bandits. Or undead-infested lakes.”

    “Oh? What were you planning?” Riley asked, raising a brow.

    Dorian gestured vaguely. “Something dignified.”

    Ariana snorted. “That doesn’t sound like us at all.”

    Riley grinned, throwing an arm over Ariana’s shoulder as they turned away from the mayor. “Come on, Wolf. Let’s go add ‘storming a keep’ to the list of things you didn’t sign up for.”

    As it turned out, the bandits were more numerous than Ariana had expected.

    She should have known better. There was never just one complication—there were layers of them. The bandits weren’t just a scattered group of thugs holed up in a ruined keep. They were organized, armed with Avvar weapons, and led by a damned Avvar chief.

    Ariana gritted her teeth as she dodged a heavy downward swing, the massive maul crashing into the stone where she had stood a second before.

    “Why is it always Avvar mixed with undead?” she groaned, twisting to slash at one of the lesser bandits.

    Riley, sidestepping a wild swing from another attacker, let out a short laugh. “Don’t look at me. I don’t make the rules.”

    “Maybe you should.” Ariana ducked under another swing from the Avvar, feeling the wind of the blow pass too close for comfort. “Then we could ban this pairing altogether.”

    “Not a bad idea,” Riley admitted, driving her sword forward and catching one of the bandits in the gut.

    The Avvar chief bellowed, his voice echoing through the ruined keep. His maul gleamed in the torchlight, wicked blades curved along the edges. Ariana didn’t like it. Didn’t like him.

    Last time she fought an Avvar, Bull had nearly died taking a hit meant for her.

    This time? That’s not happening.

    She shifted, instinctively positioning herself between Riley and the Avvar, even as her friend moved to strike. Not today.

    The Avvar lunged forward, a full-body swing, and she knew she couldn’t dodge completely. She twisted at the last second, trying to lessen the impact—

    Pain.

    A burning sensation tore through her side as the bladed edge of the maul sliced deep. The force of the blow sent her stumbling, her knees nearly buckling.

    “Wolf!” Riley’s voice was sharp, angry, but Ariana waved her off, forcing herself upright.

    No time for pain. Not now.

    She pivoted, using the momentum of her stagger to drive one of her daggers up, catching the Avvar between the ribs. He let out a harsh, choking breath, trying to swing again, but Riley was already there, driving her sword through his chest.

    The chief shuddered, gurgled, and collapsed.

    The remaining bandits hesitated. Ariana didn’t give them time to rethink their life choices. “Run, or die.”

    Most chose to run.

    Silence followed, save for the flickering torchlight and the distant groan of wind through the ruined stone.

    Varric was the first to break it, striding up with Bianca still in hand.

    “You alright, Pup?”

    Ariana exhaled sharply, pressing a hand to her side. “Fine.” She glanced at the blood now seeping between her fingers. Damn. “Those Avvar just hit hard.”

    “They’re good fighters,” Varric admitted. “Wish they’d stop fighting us and just join the damn Inquisition.”

    Dorian appeared at her side in an instant, assessing the wound before she could brush him off. “Now, darling, let me look at this. I can’t have you dying on me. Do you know what Cullen would do to me?” He clicked his tongue. “I’m not cut out for a dungeon.”

    Ariana let out a breathless laugh. “You’d be fine. You’d charm your way out.”

    Dorian smirked. “Obviously. But why risk it?”

    A cool wave of magic spread over her injury, numbing the worst of the pain. She let her shoulders relax just slightly, allowing herself to breathe for the first time since the fight started.

    Varric huffed, adjusting Bianca over his shoulder. “You know, Pup… you should consider claiming the keep for the Inquisition.”

    Ariana arched a brow. “Oh?”

    Varric gestured toward the fortifications, the strong defensive position overlooking the valley. “The village probably wouldn’t mind the stabilizing force. A handful of Inquisition troops here could mean the difference between this place staying safe or getting overrun again.”

    Ariana tilted her head, considering.

    He wasn’t wrong. And it wasn’t just the village—the Rangers could use another stronghold in Ferelden.

    She nodded, conceding the point. “I’ll send word.”

    Riley gave her a pointed look. “You’ll send word?”

    Ariana sighed dramatically. “Fine. I’ll write a very polite letter asking Cullen to send forces.”

    Varric grinned. “Oh, he’s gonna love that.”

    ~~~

    Cullen had spent the morning sifting through reports while Josephine and Leliana discussed ongoing operations. The room carried its usual weight of responsibility, the steady rhythm of planning and strategy filling the space.

    “The undead in Crestwood remain an issue,” Josephine said, marking something on her ledger. “The village is struggling, and the mayor’s reluctance to take decisive action has done little to improve matters.”

    Leliana barely concealed her displeasure. “Either he is a coward, or he is hiding something. I would prefer not to waste agents discovering which.”

    Cullen listened with half an ear, already considering the deployment of forces. He had been planning to oversee operations in Crestwood personally, but as Josephine and Leliana continued their exchange, the thought solidified into certainty.

    A sharp knock interrupted them. A scout entered swiftly, saluting before stepping forward. “Message for you, Commander.”

    Cullen turned toward the scout, his brow furrowing slightly at the unexpected communication. The parchment was hastily folded, sealed differently than a formal report. He accepted it, feeling a slight tension in his chest as he turned it over. Ariana.

    His grip on the parchment tightened, unreadable emotions flickering beneath his careful composure. He broke the seal, unfolding the letter.

    Cullen,

    The village is definitely besieged by undead. The rift is in the middle of the lake. The broken dam controls could only be reached through Caer Bronach, which was occupied by bandits.

    I took Caer Bronach, can you send someone to occupy it before bandits do again?

    Only minor injuries. Nothing to worry about.

    Love, Ari.

    Cullen read the letter twice, his grip firm around the parchment as he let the words settle. She had taken an entire keep. Alone. And then, as if anticipating his reaction, she had added a casual dismissal of her injuries. Just enough to reassure, but not enough to convince him.

    His jaw tightened. If they were truly minor, she wouldn’t have mentioned them at all.

    He exhaled sharply through his nose and turned his attention to the scout. “She took an entire keep?”

    The scout, standing rigidly at attention, nodded. “Yes, ser. Reports indicate heavy resistance.”

    Cullen’s fingers pressed into the parchment, unease twisting in his chest. “Is she injured?”

    The scout hesitated, his gaze shifting to Leliana before looking back to Cullen “She… it’s not… We’re not certain. The Inquisitor and her party are still at the keep. We believe Dorian has been tending to injuries.”

    He forced himself to remain still, to keep his expression neutral, but his thoughts raced ahead. If she had been injured badly enough for Dorian to intervene, it was worse than minor. She wouldn’t have mentioned it otherwise.

    Josephine and Leliana exchanged a glance before turning their attention to him.

    Leliana, standing beside him, skimmed the message with sharp eyes. “She’s right. A keep in Crestwood would be valuable. It’s a particularly good vantage point to intercept intelligence. I would like my scouts to use it.”

    Josephine, seated across from them, nodded. “A controlled outpost in Crestwood would also solidify our presence in the region. I can draft the necessary agreements with the local leaders.”

    Cullen exhaled sharply. “I’ll take the forces myself.”

    Josephine and Leliana exchanged a glance, both immediately aware that this was not just about strategy.

    Leliana folded her arms. “Charter can lead the effort. There’s no need for you to—”

    “No.” Cullen’s voice was firm. He looked up, expression unreadable but resolute. “I don’t believe her injuries are minor.”

    Leliana studied him, then sighed. “She wouldn’t have mentioned them if they were.”

    Cullen nodded, already turning to issue the orders. “Precisely.”

    Josephine exhaled, already resigned to the outcome. “Please try not to storm an entire region on your way there.”

    Cullen didn’t answer. He was already striding toward the door.

    ~~~

    The night was cool, the remnants of the day’s battle lingering in the scent of burnt wood and the faint, acrid tang of dried blood. The keep stood tall against the darkened sky, torches flickering along the walls as Inquisition forces moved in to secure it. Cullen had ridden hard, pushing faster than was reasonable, but even now, as he reined in his horse at the edge of the encampment, the restless energy in his chest refused to settle.

    He dismounted, barely acknowledging the soldier who stepped forward to take his reins, his gaze already sweeping the area. A campfire burned near the keep’s entrance, and gathered around it, Riley, Dorian, and Varric sat in various states of ease, a deck of Wicked Grace cards spread between them.

    The moment they saw him, all three froze.

    Riley’s hand stalled halfway through drawing a card, Dorian arched a brow, and Varric, ever the quickest to recover, let out a long, knowing sigh as he set his cards down.

    “Well, shit.”

    Cullen stepped forward, expression unreadable but eyes sharp. “Where is she?”

    Riley held up a hand, already trying to head off the storm she saw coming. “Before you start barking orders, just—breathe. It’s not as bad as you think.”

    Cullen’s jaw tightened. “Where. Is. She?”

    Dorian let out a dramatic sigh, tossing his cards onto the pile. “Maker’s breath, Commander, I am an exceptional mage. She couldn’t be in better hands.” He gestured grandly at himself. “I even outdid myself this time. No permanent damage. Probably.”

    Cullen’s glare could have burned a hole through him.

    Dorian raised his hands. “Oh, come now, don’t look at me like that. You do know how magic works, yes?”

    Cullen was in no mood for his theatrics. He turned back to Riley, but Varric—who had clearly seen this coming—saved her the trouble.

    “She’s sleeping.” He gestured toward the far side of the keep, where a makeshift shelter had been set up within the inner walls. “That room over there.”

    Cullen didn’t wait.

    The room was dimly lit, the glow of the campfire outside casting long shadows across the stone walls. Cullen stepped inside quietly, his eyes adjusting to the darkness as he spotted her form beneath the blankets.

    She was still.

    For a brief moment, he just watched her. The steady rise and fall of her breathing, the faint furrow in her brow even in sleep. His heart ached at the sight of her, at the exhaustion written into her features, at the barely concealed bandages visible where the blanket had shifted.

    Ariana had always been difficult to slow down.

    He moved forward, reaching down to brush a loose strand of hair from her face.

    However, Ariana reacted immediately. Her hand snapped up, fingers locking around his wrist in a firm, instinctive grip. He found himself almost surprised by the strength she displayed even in this state. The sharp inhale, the tension in her shoulders—it was too fast, too practiced.

    Cullen froze, realizing he needed to let her wake fully. To take in her surroundings, waiting for the moment she recognized him.

    And then, as recognition flickered, her grip loosened instantly. Her fingers sliding away as her body eased back into the bed.

    “Cullen?” Her voice was still thick with sleep, but there was no mistaking the relief in it.

    He exhaled, slow and steady. “It’s me.”

    Ariana blinked up at him, taking him in as if she wasn’t quite sure he was real. Then, without a word, she shifted back slightly, lifting the blanket. The invitation was not lost on him.

    He hesitated, the part of him that wanted to chastise her, to argue, to demand why she was always so reckless warring against the part of him that just needed to be here. To see her, to know she was safe.

    But truthfully, he knew he didn’t need to argue. She had written minor injuries on purpose.

    Ariana would never say grave or fatal injuries. She would never admit to being anything less than fine. This had been her way of telling him, of asking him, to come for her.

    Cullen sighed, running a hand through his hair before finally removing his armor. The weight of it hit the stone floor in pieces, gauntlets first, then the breastplate, each movement methodical. When he was down to his undershirt, he slipped under the blanket beside her.

    She curled into him without hesitation, her head resting against his shoulder, her body fitting against his side as though she had been waiting for him.

    He let out a slow breath, pressing a kiss to her hair. “I’m here, love.”

    Ariana murmured something against his chest, the words lost to the quiet, but it didn’t matter.

    She’s safe.

    And this time, she hadn’t waited in Crestwood alone.

    ~~~

    Ariana stirred awake to the faint, familiar scent of elderflower and oakmoss. The warmth beside her had not disappeared, nor had the gentle weight of the arm draped over her waist, fingers tracing slow, absentminded patterns.

    He was awake.

    The realization settled in before her eyes even opened, the quiet steadiness of his presence grounding her in a way that made it easier to let go of the grogginess clinging to the edges of her mind. She exhaled softly, pressing further into the warmth of his chest.

    “You came for me.” The words left her lips barely above a whisper, a simple truth wrapped in quiet gratitude.

    Cullen’s grip on her arm tightened ever so slightly, his lips pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I promise, I always will.”

    In that moment, the realization settled in her chest. She believed him. But more than that. She didn’t just believe he meant it, she believed he truly could. She believed in the certainty of it, that no matter what, no matter how many times she walked into the fire, he would find his way to her.

    His hand shifted, fingertips ghosting over the edge of the bandages still wrapped around her side. “Are you alright?” he asked, his voice quiet but searching.

    She hummed, nodding against his chest. “I am. Really,” she added before he could press further. “It wasn’t good, but Dorian was here. He handled it.”

    His brow furrowed, and though she couldn’t see it, she could feel it in the way his body tensed beside her. “Let me see,” he murmured.

    Ariana sighed, knowing there was no point in arguing. She pushed herself up slightly, resting back against the pillows as Cullen sat up beside her. His hands were gentle as he unwrapped the bandages, his touch careful, methodical. When the last layer peeled away, he exhaled sharply, his fingers brushing over the faint line where the wound had already begun to fade, little more than a shadow of what it had been.

    “Dorian should be by soon to finish healing it,” she reassured him, resting her hand over his.

    Cullen traced the mark one last time before rewrapping the bandages, his jaw tight with unspoken thoughts. She could see them forming, the instinct to chastise her, to tell her she needed to be more careful, to remind her that even she had limits.

    But instead of speaking, he nodded, securing the final wrap before pressing a kiss to the inside of her wrist.

    Ariana smiled, squeezing his hand. “I want to check the dam controls today.”

    Cullen sighed, unsurprised but clearly unimpressed. “Of course you do.”

    She grinned, pressing a kiss to his cheek before rolling out of bed. “If I don’t, who will?”

    He ran a hand through his hair, still watching her with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. “Me. Or anyone else. You don’t have to be the one to—”

    Ariana arched an eyebrow at him as she pulled on her tunic. “You’re coming with me, aren’t you?”

    Cullen exhaled, rubbing at his temple. “Yes,” he admitted, already pulling on his armor. “Someone has to make sure you don’t try to take another fortress on your way there.”

    She laughed, shaking her head. “No promises. There’s a tavern in the middle of the dam, it houses the controls. Could we capture that?”

    Cullen shook his head, chuckling despite himself. “If that is your wish.”

    ~~~

    Riley was waiting near the door that led towards the dam, arms crossed, her expression unreadable as Ariana and Cullen approached. She had already gathered a few of the Rangers, her sharp eyes darting between Ariana and Cullen.

    Cullen only sighed. “Just… don’t let her take another keep.”

    Riley snorted. “As if I could stop her.” Then, turning to Ariana, she said, “You’re going to look for the dam controls?”

    Ariana nodded. “If we’re going to drain the lake, we need to figure out if the controls can be repaired.”

    Riley jerked her head toward the path leading out of the keep. “Then let’s get to it.”

    The walk was quiet, the air thick with the lingering scent of damp earth and stagnant water. Crestwood’s eerie stillness had settled back in after the night’s rest, the mist rolling off the lake as the morning sun struggled to cut through the haze.

    As they reached the tavern that housed the dam controls, something felt strange. The building showed no signs of damage. It didn’t look to have been raided by darkspawn. Something wasn’t right. Ariana had expected to find the controls damaged—she was unsure as to the severity of the damage they would encounter.

    What she hadn’t expected was for them to be in perfect working order.

    She stared at the mechanisms in silence, her hands tightening at her sides. The gears, the levers—everything was intact. Functional. Ready to be used. Despite knowing the answer, she hoped against hope that when she turned the wheel, to open the dam nothing would happen. And yet, it offered no resistance.

    Nothing had been broken.

    As she heard the sound of water begin to rush through the dam, her mind raced, piecing together the truth that now sat so plainly in front of her. So obvious that it made her stomach twist in something dangerously close to rage.

    The darkspawn hadn’t flooded Crestwood.

    The mayor had.

    Her breath came sharp through her nose as she turned to Cullen, her expression one of barely restrained fury, her voice as steady as she could manage. “I want the mayor captured. Now.”

    Cullen was already on the same page, his posture rigid, his own fury barely contained beneath his steady, commanding tone. “At once, Inquisitor.” He turned to Riley. “Get him now.”

    Riley wasted no time, already moving before either of them had finished speaking.

    Ariana took a slow breath, clenching and unclenching her fists as she tried to push down the unrelenting anger burning beneath her skin. The mayor had murdered his own people—let them drown, let them suffer—all under the guise of an attack. And they had trusted him.

    A part of her wanted to storm back to the village herself, to drag him out into the square and demand to know why. Why he had let them die, why he had lied, why he had sat in that office and said nothing while bodies filled the lake.

    Her hands curled into fists, her nails biting into her palms, but before the rage could consume her, a familiar hand closed over hers, grounding her.

    Cullen.

    His grip was firm but careful, his thumb brushing lightly over her knuckles. “We’ll handle this,” he said, his voice quieter, steady. “Together.”

    She exhaled, the fire in her chest still burning but contained, no longer unchecked. Her fingers tightened around his.

    “Together.”

    ~~~

    The night air was crisp, the sky above them a vast stretch of darkness interrupted only by the glimmer of stars. Ariana stood atop the battlements of Caer Bronach, arms folded against the cool breeze rolling off the now-lowered lake. The keep was quiet below, save for the distant murmur of voices from the courtyard. Scouts were moving in and out, securing the area, reinforcing what had now become another stronghold under the Inquisition’s banner.

    Cullen stood beside her, his gaze sweeping across the valley before settling on the village. He had been waiting for the scouts to return, but when they finally arrived with their report, their news only deepened the tension already weighing on them.

    “The mayor fled,” one of them had said, reluctant to meet Ariana’s gaze. “It looks like it’s been a few days now. We’re picking up his trail, but he had a head start.”

    Ariana’s jaw tightened. “I should have realized he was hiding something.”

    “Ari,” Cullen started softly, putting his arms around her trying to steady her. “You couldn’t have known. You couldn’t have imagined.”

    She took a deep breath as she allowed herself to settle against hi. “Maybe, but I knew his hesitation seemed strange.”

    “We will find him,” Cullen had assured her, his voice calm but firm. “I won’t stop until we do.”

    As they stood in silence overlooking the lake, her fingers drummed absently against his arms. The revelations of the day sat heavy in her chest.

    Crestwood had been a deception. The mayor had murdered his own people, had murdered countless refugees. People only looking for safety from the Blight.

    And that wasn’t even the worst of it.

    “I met with Hawke and Stroud today,” Ariana murmured, breaking the quiet between them. She could still hear the way Stroud had spoken, the grim certainty in his voice. “It’s worse than we thought.”

    Cullen looked down slightly, waiting.

    She let out a slow breath. “Corypheus can control Grey Wardens.”

    He frowned, arms crossing over his chest. “Control them?”

    “It’s not clear how exactly. But that’s not all of it.” Ariana looked back out over the lake, watching as the last remnants of mist curled over the surface. “All the Wardens have begun hearing the Calling.”

    Cullen went still behind her.

    “That’s why they’ve retreated,” she continued, voice quieter now. “Why they’ve all vanished. They think they’re dying. And maybe they are. But if they’re all hearing it at the same time…”

    His jaw tightened. “Then something is deeply wrong.”

    They stood in silence, the implications of it settling in their bones.

    Cullen exhaled slowly, his arms tightening around her. “We’ll figure this out,” he murmured, though there was no certainty in the words. Not yet.

    Ariana didn’t answer right away. The weight of everything—the mayor’s betrayal, the Grey Wardens, the sheer magnitude of what they were up against—settled heavily in her chest. But as she leaned against Cullen, her fingers absently tracing patterns against the worn fabric of his sleeve, another thought surfaced, something so distant from the present moment that it almost felt like a dream.

    A quiet smile tugged at her lips. “You know… I stood almost in this exact spot twelve years ago.”

    Cullen glanced down at her, brow furrowing slightly, but he didn’t interrupt.

    “This was probably the first ‘ruin’ I ever explored after I ran away,” she continued, her voice softer now, carrying a touch of nostalgia.

    Cullen’s hold on her tightened slightly, but still, he let her speak.

    “Back then, all I could wonder was what it would have been like to be a defender here. The battles this place may have seen.” She chuckled under her breath, shaking her head. “It was the first time I had stopped here, before I even made it to the Lake Calenhad Docks.”

    She sighed, letting the memory settle between them. “And now, here I am. Twelve years later. I hold the keep. I defend it. I became part of the history I once imagined.”

    Cullen smiled faintly, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face. “You really have been preparing for war your whole life, haven’t you?”

    Ariana smirked, shifting to look up at him. “I didn’t think so at the time. Some things don’t change, I guess.”

    His expression softened. “Some do.”

    She hummed, leaning her head against his shoulder once more. For tonight, as she stood in the same place she had all those years ago, with him, she could almost believe that things had come full circle. No, not almost. This wasn’t just full circle. It was fate. From the first time she had set foot here, to the time she spent waiting, to tonight—where she stood as its defender.

    ~~~

    The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, leaving only the fading glow of twilight as they made camp for the night. The road back to Skyhold had been quiet, the journey uneventful, though Ariana had barely noticed the passing landscape. She had spent the better part of the ride lost in thought, letting the rhythmic sound of hoofbeats and the crisp evening air settle the weight of the last few days.

    By the time they had dismounted and secured the horses, the fire had been built, casting flickering shadows along the trees. The quiet hum of the wilderness surrounded them, the occasional rustling of leaves the only sound beyond the low crackle of burning wood.

    Ariana stretched out on the blanket beside Cullen, rolling her shoulders as the warmth from the flames seeped into her skin. He sat with his back against a fallen log, gaze distant, though she could tell his thoughts were nowhere near their camp.

    For a long while, neither of them spoke.

    Then, softly, Ariana broke the silence. “Emma’s been feeling a little lonely.”

    Cullen turned his head, brow furrowing slightly at the shift in conversation. “Lonely?”

    Ariana nodded. “She’s trying not to show it, but I can tell. She misses spending time with you.”

    She didn’t say it as an accusation, only a simple truth. She knew he had been consumed by work, that the weight of leading Skyhold’s forces demanded everything of him, but Emma was still young. She could see how hard the little girl tried to be strong, to be independent, just as she had been raised to be.

    But she still needed her uncle.

    Cullen exhaled, rubbing a hand across his jaw. “I hadn’t realized…” He trailed off, eyes flickering with quiet guilt. “I should have.”

    Ariana smiled softly, watching as he processed the truth of it. “She understands you’re busy,” she reassured him. “But she still misses you.”

    He nodded, his jaw tight as he turned his gaze toward the fire. “I’ll do better.”

    Ariana tilted her head, watching him for a long moment before smiling knowingly. “I know you will.”

    He glanced at her then, lips curving slightly before she shifted, moving to lay her head in his lap. His hand instinctively drifted to her hair, fingers threading through the strands with absentminded ease.

    Ariana sighed, letting her eyes drift closed as the warmth of the fire, the steady rhythm of his touch, lulled her into contentment. As she rubbed at her eyes, her ring caught the firelight, the gleam of the sapphire drawing Cullen’s gaze.

    She felt it before she saw it—his hand moving from her hair, fingers curling gently around hers.

    He traced the ring with his thumb, slow and deliberate, his touch lingering.

    Ariana opened her eyes, looking up at him, immediately recognizing the look on his face.

    He was thinking about their wedding.

    About the plans they had begun in Kirkwall, the ones left unfinished in the wake of everything else.

    She smirked, deciding to snap him out of his thoughts before they drifted too far. “What is it?” she teased. “Do you have a problem with the color scheme?”

    Cullen blinked, startled out of his reverie.

    Ariana grinned. “Or is it the idea of having it in Skyhold?”

    Much to her surprise, he almost took her seriously. He laughed, shaking his head. “No, the color scheme is fine,” he said, still tracing the ring with his thumb. “And I just want to have the wedding wherever you’d prefer. Be it Skyhold or the manor.”

    She sat up then, shifting to straddle his legs, resting her hands against his chest as she studied him, as realization settled in her chest.

    He wasn’t just thinking about their wedding.

    He was ready.

    She searched his face, as if waiting for him to confirm what she already knew. “You mean that.”

    Cullen let out a breathless laugh, sliding his hands to rest at her hips. “Of course, I do.” He squeezed lightly, his expression softening. “I want to marry you. I’ve wanted to marry you for a long time.”

    Ariana didn’t let him finish. She kissed him before the words even fully left his mouth, her fingers curling into the fabric of his tunic as she closed the space between them.

    He responded instantly, the tension in his shoulders melting away as he pulled her closer, deepening the kiss with an urgency that mirrored her own.

    She felt his hands tighten at her waist, the warmth of his touch grounding her in the moment, in the quiet certainty of this.

    The fire crackled beside them, the night stretching on, and nothing else mattered.

    ~~~

    Cullen stirred awake to the sudden absence of warmth beside him.

    His eyes opened, adjusting quickly to the dim light of their camp. The fire had burned low, casting flickering shadows along the trees, and the night air had cooled considerably. But it wasn’t the cold that had woken him—it was her.

    Ariana sat upright beside him, her breath uneven, her posture tense. One hand clutched her left arm, fingers pressing into the fabric of her sleeve as she scanned the darkness, searching for something unseen.

    Cullen pushed himself up slowly, careful not to move too fast, not to startle her further. “Ariana,” he murmured, his voice low, steady.

    She didn’t respond immediately.

    Her breathing was measured but shallow, her gaze shifting, still caught between the remnants of the dream and the reality in front of her.

    It’s taking too long, he realized. It was taking longer than he’d ever seen for her to focus, too long for the tension in her shoulders to ease.

    He reached for her gently, fingers brushing against the back of her hand before wrapping around it. “It’s just me,” he said, firmer this time, enough to pull her attention back to him.

    She blinked, her gaze finally settling on his, and in an instant, the alarm drained from her features.

    “Cullen.” Her voice was hoarse, quiet, almost uncertain, as if she were still catching up to the moment.

    He squeezed her hand lightly. “You’re alright.”

    She let out a slow breath, her grip on her arm easing, though she didn’t release it entirely. After a moment, she offered him a small, tired smile. “Just a nightmare,” she murmured, dismissive, as she always was.

    Cullen didn’t believe her. He knew better, he knew this type of nightmare all too well.

    But instead of pressing, he just nodded, watching as she shifted back down, curling against him without hesitation. He wrapped an arm around her, his hand settling against the small of her back as she exhaled against his chest.

    He knew better than to push her right now.

    Her nightmares had always been there, lurking at the edges of her mind, surfacing in the quietest moments. He had seen her wake like this before, suddenly, sharply, as if still in the fight, but tonight it had taken much longer for her to come back.

    He rubbed his hand along her back absently, his mind turning over the thought.

    One mage—one man—doesn’t justify mistreating all others.

    She had said it so deliberately.

    His brow furrowed as another memory surfaced—Isabel’s voice, sharp but knowing. Ariana’s been through storms most of us wouldn’t survive.

    Riley had said something similar once, spoken it like a truth everyone but him had already accepted.

    Cullen’s jaw tightened as he held her closer, as the weight of it all settled deeper into his chest. What happened to you, Ari?

    He didn’t ask, not tonight.

    Instead, he focused on the quiet sound of her breathing, on the way her body finally relaxed against him. He let himself stay awake, stay steady, stay present, watching over her as the fire burned low.

    Even if she wouldn’t tell him, even if she still carried it alone, he would be here.

    And he would find a way to help her.

    Even if she never asked him to.

  • Chapter 81 – An Inquisitor and a Wolf

    1 – 4 Solace 9:41

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    ~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    ~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    ~~~

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

    “No execution? Very well.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    ~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    His brow furrowed in confusion. “Trees?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    ~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    Cullen groaned internally. Maker, give me patience.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    Michael blinked in surprise. “You knew?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    “Excuse me?” Michael interjected, clearly offended.

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

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

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

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

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

    “And Cullen challenged Wolf,” Riley added.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    “Dammit,” Valentina muttered loudly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    And he had never admired anyone more.

  • Chapter 77 – A Shared Burden

    11 – 27 Justinian 9:41

    The early morning mist of the Frostback Mountains clung to the air as Ariana rode alongside her companions. The rhythmic clop of hooves and the occasional call of birds filled the silence, peaceful enough to belie the storm of thoughts swirling in her mind. The crisp air bit at her skin, the chill seeping past her cloak as her gaze wandered over the snow-dusted peaks.

    Cassandra rode ahead, her posture stiff and unyielding, while Dorian and Iron Bull flanked Ariana, their banter filling the space between moments of quiet. But no amount of conversation could distract Ariana from the heavy knot twisting in her chest.

    “Now that you’ve acquired this magnificent fortress,” Dorian mused, his tone light and theatrical as always, “I’m thinking… a Skyhold wedding. Far more extravagant than Denerim, don’t you agree? Oh, the possibilities. Flower garlands draped from the battlements, a ceremonial sword dance—”

    Ariana groaned, though the faint tug of a smile softened her expression. “What happened to Denerim Palace?”

    “Darling,” Dorian said with mock exasperation, “why settle for a palace when you have a fortress carved into the side of a mountain? Grand halls, breathtaking views, the kind of acoustics that make bards weep. I’m envisioning silks in deep green and gold to match your eyes, and Cullen, of course, in ceremonial armor polished to an impossible gleam.”

    “Dorian,” Ariana interrupted, smirking, “if you start designing table settings, I’ll send you back to Minrathous.”

    “Please, as if I’d settle for anything less than Orlesian crystal,” he quipped, undeterred. “And let’s not forget the guest list. Champion of Kirkwall must have a front-row seat, and Varric will demand to give a toast. Perhaps the Hero of Ferelden can be persuaded to grace us with their presence. Oh, and we simply must have a dragon or two. For flair.”

    She couldn’t help the soft laugh that escaped her. “Maker’s breath, why do I let you do this to me?”

    “Because I’m delightful,” Dorian replied smoothly, his grin widening. But then his gaze lingered on her, the teasing edge fading just slightly. “You’re awfully quiet today, darling. Something on your mind?”

    Ariana hesitated, her fingers tightening on the reins. She glanced at the ground, the hoofbeats of her horse punctuating her pause. “Just… Varric,” she said finally, her voice quieter than usual.

    Dorian’s eyebrows lifted, his expression softening with understanding. “Ah, yes. The infamous quarreling family dynamic. Well, take it from me—every family has its rough patches. The key is to balance shouting matches with a healthy dose of wine. Or cake.”

    Her lips twitched upward, though the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “You’ve clearly got it all figured out.”

    “Of course I do,” he replied with mock sincerity, gesturing grandly. “And when we get back, we’ll stage an elaborate reconciliation. You and Varric can bond over fine whiskey, and he can read you that dreadful draft he’s been working on.”

    This time, the smile that broke through was genuine, even if it was fleeting. “Thanks, Dorian.”

    “Anytime,” he said, giving her an approving nod. “Now, back to the important matter of cake…”

    The day stretched long, the sun dipping behind the peaks by the time they made camp. Cassandra barely said a word as she helped set up tents before retreating to her own, choosing a spot slightly away from the others. Ariana watched her go, the tension in her shoulders as clear as the stars beginning to peek through the darkening sky. She’d seen that look before—the weight of guilt and self-recrimination that Cassandra carried far too easily.

    Dorian wandered off shortly after, claiming he needed to “commune with the stars.” Which left Ariana sitting by the fire, the warmth flickering against her skin as she stared into the flames. She poked absently at the logs with a stick, her thoughts drifting back to Skyhold. To Varric, to Cullen, to the laughter in the tavern last night.

    And then, of course, to Cullen.

    The ghost of his touch lingered on her skin, and for a moment, the ache in her chest softened. She could still feel the heat of his breath against her neck, the way his hands had roamed over her body with a reverence that made her feel both untouchable and completely undone. It had been a perfect reprieve—one she hadn’t known she needed until it had taken her breath away.

    But the memory of his amber eyes watching her as she left Skyhold that morning brought the ache back tenfold. She hated leaving him like that, knowing he’d spend the next two weeks worrying, unable to follow. And Varric… The silence between them felt heavier than ever now. It wasn’t anger anymore. It was something closer to regret.

    “You’re brooding, Boss,” came a familiar voice, breaking her reverie.

    Ariana glanced up to see Iron Bull plop onto a log across from her, his massive frame stretching out comfortably. He grinned at her, his sharp teeth catching the firelight. “So, I gotta ask—did I ever stand a chance?”

    Her brow furrowed. “What?”

    “You know,” he said, gesturing vaguely with one hand. “You and me. Great sex. No strings. That kind of thing.”

    Ariana burst out laughing, the sound cutting through the tension like a blade. “Not really.”

    Bull mock-sighed, leaning forward. “Figures. You and the Commander, huh?”

    She smirked. “You sound disappointed.”

    “Disappointed? Nah. Just curious,” he said, grinning wider. “How long’s that been going on?”

    She tilted her head, considering the question. “We’ve known each other since just before the Blight. But we’ve only been… involved since 9:33…”

    Bull let out a low whistle. “Oh, so only eight years, huh? Real casual.”

    Ariana chuckled softly, her gaze dropping to the fire. “It wasn’t all eight years. We didn’t see each other for almost four of them.”

    “Why’s that?” he asked, his tone still light but laced with curiosity.

    Her fingers tightened around the stick she held, her eyes fixed on the dancing flames. “Opposite sides of a war, I sided with the mages…” she said quietly.

    Bull’s grin faded, his expression softening as he nodded. “Ah. That explains a lot.” He leaned back, crossing his arms. “Well, looks like it worked out in the end.”

    “It did,” she said, though her voice was quieter now.

    For a moment, the silence between them stretched, the crackle of the fire filling the space. But then Bull’s grin returned, and he leaned forward with a mischievous glint in his eye. “But hey, if it ever doesn’t work out, or if he doesn’t keep you satisfied…”

    Ariana raised an eyebrow, her smirk returning. “Oh, I’m definitely satisfied.”

    Bull froze for half a beat, then barked out a laugh, his grin turning wicked. “Now that’s a statement. The Commander’s got skills, huh?”

    She shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “I’m not one to kiss and tell.”

    “Please. You’re absolutely the type to kiss and tell,” Bull countered, pointing a finger at her. “So, come on. On a scale from one to ‘stamina of a Qunari,’ how’s the man holding up?”

    Ariana rolled her eyes, though her smile lingered. “Let’s just say the sun was rising by the time we got any sleep.”

    Bull blinked, his grin widening as a deep laugh rumbled from his chest. “Now that’s impressive. Didn’t think he had it in him.”

    “Don’t underestimate him, Bull,” she said, her smirk turning sly. “He’s full of surprises.”

    “I’ll say,” Bull replied, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Man deserves a medal—and probably a nap.”

    She laughed softly, the tension in her chest easing slightly. “I’ll be sure to pass that along.”

    “Do that. And hey, offer’s still open if he ever slips up.”

    Ariana shook her head, waving him off. “Goodnight, Bull.”

    He winked, rising to his feet. “Goodnight, Boss.”

    As he wandered off to his tent, Ariana leaned back, the firelight flickering against her features. The banter had helped, easing the weight she carried just enough. But as she stared into the flames, her thoughts turned back to Skyhold, to Varric, and the laughter they hadn’t shared in far too long.

    She sighed, tucking her knees to her chest. “I need to fix this,” she whispered to herself, the words swallowed by the crackling fire.

    ~~~

    Cullen stood at the head of the war room table, the weight of leadership pressing heavily on his shoulders as he sifted through the latest reports. Leliana stood to his left, her sharp eyes scanning a dispatch as Josephine read a list of visiting nobles aloud. The tension in the room was palpable, the constant undercurrent of Skyhold’s responsibilities never truly abating.

    A sharp knock at the door broke the rhythm, and a scout entered, holding a folded parchment.

    “Message for you, Commander,” the scout said, stepping forward.

    Cullen turned toward the scout, his brow furrowing at the unexpected interruption. He accepted the parchment, his eyes catching on the seal—it was hastily folded, sealed differently than a typical scout report. Turning it over, his breath caught. His name was written in a familiar hand: Ariana’s.

    His chest tightened, a mix of relief and worry flooding him. Ariana had never sent him a personal message while away from Skyhold. Why now? Was something wrong?

    “It’s from the Inquisitor,” the scout added, bowing slightly before exiting the room.

    Josephine and Leliana exchanged glances before looking at Cullen. Leliana spoke first, her tone laced with curiosity. “The Inquisitor? Is something amiss?”

    “I… don’t know,” Cullen admitted, his voice quieter than usual as he broke the seal and unfolded the parchment. Ariana’s words immediately drew him in.

    Cullen,

    Stop worrying. I know you are. I’m safe, uninjured. Well, as much as anyone can be in these conditions. Though, I’d appreciate it if you could ask Leliana to have her scouts be a bit more thorough with their reports next time. “Wants to meet with the Herald” and “Wants to duel the Herald” are not the same thing. A little warning would’ve been nice before someone else tried to kill me.

    On that note, you’ll be pleased to know that Bull earned his pay. He took a hit meant for me—from the Hand of Korth himself. I owe him several drinks and maybe a healer. This is exactly why luck is not a strategy. “Meet” and “duel” have very different implications.

    Did you know there was a plague here sometime in the not so distant past? Judging by the state of things, no one survived. It’s crawling with undead—corpses everywhere. Maker, Cullen, it’s… horrific. Do we know how long ago it happened? Someone should burn the bodies. They deserve that much, at least.

    Oh, and Dorian’s decided Skyhold is the ideal wedding venue. He’s already envisioning flower garlands on the battlements and a grand ceremonial sword dance. Personally, I think the manor would be quieter—and safer. Not that you’ve seen it yet. Can we even have a simple wedding, or is that impossible now? Is it too late for us to keep it small?

    I’ll be stopping in the Hinterlands on my way back. Just a few things to follow up on. Don’t worry so much. I’ll see you soon.

    Love,

    —Ari

    P.S. I recruited an Avvar who was looking for a greater purpose. The Sky Watcher. He might arrive in Skyhold before I do.

    Cullen’s eyes lingered on her signature, his grip on the parchment tightening. Relief washed over him—she was safe. But it was quickly followed by frustration. Duel? Undead? Ariana had been sent into a situation far worse than they’d been led to believe. And she’d written to him not to report, but to reassure him, to ease the worry she knew he carried.

    Her words, as casual as they seemed on the surface, carried a subtle undercurrent of exhaustion. Cullen could feel it in the way she described the Fallow Mire—the horror, the weariness, the lingering sense of helplessness about the lives lost to the plague. She was carrying too much, yet still thinking about him, trying to make him smile with mentions of Dorian’s wedding plans and her teasing remarks.

    “The Sky Watcher…” Cullen murmured, his brow furrowing as he reread the letter. Who or what had she recruited this time?

    Josephine’s voice broke his reverie. “Commander, is everything alright?”

    Cullen folded the letter carefully, tucking it into his breastplate. He exhaled, steadying himself. “No,” he said, his tone sharp. “Everything is not alright.”

    Josephine and Leliana exchanged glances again, startled by the sudden edge in his voice.

    “How is it,” Cullen continued, his gaze locking onto Leliana, “that we reported the Avvar wanted to meet with the Herald, when in reality, they wanted to duel her? That is not the same thing.”

    Leliana’s eyes narrowed slightly, her expression guarded but attentive. “I… will have to look into that,” she said, her tone even.

    “Yes, please do,” Cullen said, his voice rising slightly. “Next time we send her into a situation blind, we might not be so lucky. The scouts’ failure to provide accurate information nearly got her killed.” He paced to the edge of the table, running a hand through his hair as his frustration boiled over. “She’s out there dealing with a plague, undead, and Maker knows what else, and she had no warning. If not for Bull, she could’ve been seriously hurt—or worse.”

    “Cullen,” Josephine began gently, her tone meant to diffuse the tension, “I’m certain Leliana will ensure this doesn’t happen again. Perhaps—”

    “I will address it,” Leliana interrupted firmly, her tone brooking no argument. “You have my word, Commander.”

    Cullen nodded, though his jaw remained tight. He wasn’t angry at Leliana, not truly, but the thought of Ariana walking into danger unprepared set his blood boiling. He couldn’t be out there to protect her, and the knowledge gnawed at him.

    After a moment, he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Thank you,” he said, his voice quieter now. “I trust you’ll handle it.”

    Leliana inclined her head. “Of course.”

    As the meeting resumed, Cullen’s mind kept drifting back to Ariana’s letter. The humor, the exhaustion, the quiet way she reached out to him—not as her Commander, but as the man who loved her. It wasn’t just her words that stayed with him but the unspoken emotions behind them. She missed him. She was thinking of him, even in the chaos of the Mire.

    And Maker help him, he missed her too.

    He allowed himself a small smile. At least she’s safe. And at least I know Bull is doing exactly what he’s paid to do. Still, his hands itched to be there, to fight alongside her, to protect her from everything she faced.

    For now, all he could do was wait. But the thought of seeing her again—of holding her, of hearing her voice—was enough to keep him grounded. For now.

    ~~~

    As the campfire crackled softly, casting flickering shadows across the clearing, Cassandra approached Ariana with a quiet determination. She settled down beside her, her plate balanced carefully in one hand. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the silence filled only by the faint rustling of the wind through the trees and the distant murmurs of the others in camp.

    “I need to say something,” Cassandra began, breaking the quiet.

    Ariana glanced at her, already sensing where this was going. “Cassandra, you don’t—”

    “I do,” Cassandra interrupted, her tone firm. “I owe you an apology. And I need you to hear it.”

    Ariana sighed but gave a small nod, her expression softening. She set her plate down, bracing herself for what was to come.

    “When I said that Hawke might have saved the Divine when you couldn’t…” Cassandra hesitated, her voice catching slightly. “It was unfair. Cruel, even. I was wrong to say it.”

    “Cassandra—” Ariana tried again, but Cassandra held up a hand.

    “Let me finish,” she insisted. “I’ve spent a great deal of time thinking about that day. About what happened at the Temple. And I’ve realized something… If you couldn’t save the Divine, no one could have. You were there. You were in the room with her. And that dark figure—Corypheus—he…” Her voice trailed off, but her meaning was clear. She met Ariana’s gaze, her eyes steady despite the weight of her words. “If he was the one who struck her down, then there is no shame in what happened. Only tragedy.”

    Ariana looked away, swallowing hard against the lump that had risen in her throat. “You’re flattering me again,” she said lightly, forcing a small smile in an attempt to ease the tension.

    Cassandra groaned, a faint but genuine sound of frustration. “Maker, why must you do that?”

    “Deflection is an art form,” Ariana replied, her smile growing a little more genuine. “And I’ve had plenty of practice.”

    Cassandra shook her head, but her expression softened. “I’ve come to admire you, you know. Your strength, your decisiveness. The way you face things without hesitation. I… wish I could be more like that.”

    Ariana turned to her, surprised by the admission. “Cassandra…”

    “No, let me finish,” Cassandra said again, softer this time. “I’ve spent my life serving what I believed to be a righteous cause. But in the wake of the Conclave, I was lost. Without you, I might still be lost.”

    Ariana regarded her quietly for a moment before speaking. “Without you, there would be no Inquisition.” Her voice was steady, filled with conviction. “Without your determination, your belief that we could make a difference, none of this would have been possible.”

    Cassandra tilted her head slightly, confused. “I don’t understand.”

    “I admired you from the moment you slammed that Writ from the Divine in front of Chancellor Roderick and declared the Inquisition reborn,” Ariana explained. “In the darkness of those first days after the Conclave, you were a light. You showed me—and everyone else—that we could do something. That we didn’t have to just sit back and let the world fall apart.”

    Cassandra’s gaze dropped, her expression softening further. “I… never realized.”

    Ariana reached out, placing a hand on her arm. “You’re an incredible leader, Cassandra. And whether you believe it or not, you’ve inspired so many of us, myself included.”

    For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then, Cassandra gave a small, reluctant smile. “You have a way with words, Inquisitor.”

    Ariana chuckled. “It’s a gift.”

    Cassandra sighed, shaking her head, but the faint smile remained. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “Truly.”

    The quiet moment between them stretched on, the crackling fire filling the space with its soft, rhythmic whispers. Cassandra leaned back slightly, her posture relaxing for perhaps the first time all day. Ariana thought of how rare it was to see the Seeker allow herself even this much ease.

    Before either could speak again, the sound of hurried footsteps broke through the stillness. Both women turned as a messenger approached, his breath visible in the cool night air. He stopped just short of the fire, offering a hasty salute.

    “Inquisitor,” he said, his tone respectful but urgent. “A message, from Commander Cullen.”

    Ariana blinked, caught off guard. “From Cullen?”

    The messenger nodded, reaching into his satchel and pulling out a carefully sealed letter. Ariana’s name was written in his unmistakable handwriting. Her breath caught slightly as she took it from him, the weight of the parchment feeling strangely significant in her hands.

    “Thank you,” she said quietly, and the messenger nodded before retreating back into the shadows.

    Cassandra watched her for a moment, curiosity flickering across her features. “Are you going to read it?”

    Ariana hesitated, her thumb running over the edge of the seal. “I—yes. I just didn’t expect…” She trailed off, shaking her head with a faint smile. “It’s been years since we exchanged letters.”

    Cassandra’s brow furrowed slightly, but she said nothing, sensing that this moment was personal. She stood, brushing off her hands. “I’ll leave you to it,” she said simply, retreating toward her tent without another word.

    Once she was alone, Ariana exhaled slowly, breaking the seal and unfolding the parchment. The sight of Cullen’s handwriting, neat but with a certain hurried precision, brought a wave of nostalgia that she hadn’t expected. She began to read:

    Ariana,

    Do you truly expect me not to worry? After Haven, after everything? You write to tell me you’re safe and then casually mention a duel, a plague, undead, and Bull taking a hit meant for you. How exactly is that supposed to ease my mind?

    I’ve already spoken with Leliana. This mistake with the scouts won’t happen again, I promise you that. I hate to think of you walking into something like that unprepared again. And while I trust you more than anyone to handle yourself, I… I wish you didn’t have to face these dangers at all.

    I wasn’t aware of the plague. I’ve already ordered a team to head to the Fallow Mire. They’ll see to the bodies and ensure the dead are finally given some peace. I wish we could have done something sooner, but we’ll at least make this right now. If there are survivors, we will find them.

    As for Dorian… I’m not entirely against the idea of Skyhold. It would be safer, and I’d like to imagine you wouldn’t feel the need to carry daggers under your dress if we held it here. But if you’re asking me what I want, Ari… I don’t care. Skyhold, the manor, the middle of the Frostbacks—it doesn’t matter, as long as you’re happy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.

    I’ll admit, though, I’d like to see the manor one day. You’ve talked about it so much—I can tell it’s special to you. Maybe that’s where we’ll finally go, once the world stops falling apart.

    I hate knowing you’re heading straight from the Mire to the Hinterlands. I know you’re only doing what you feel you have to, but sometimes I wish you’d just let someone else handle it. I know how capable you are, but Ari… even you can’t carry all of this alone.

    Please, stay safe. And come back to me soon.

    Always,

    Cullen

    P.S. The Sky Watcher… should I even ask?

    Ariana stared at Cullen’s letter, the words blurring slightly as her eyes lingered on the line she’d just read:

    “Maybe that’s where we’ll finally go, once the world stops falling apart.”

    She felt the breath leave her lungs in a quiet, uneven exhale. For a long moment, she didn’t move, her fingers brushing lightly over the parchment as though touching the words might somehow make them more real. The rest of the world fell away—the crackling fire, the distant rustling of leaves, the low murmur of conversation in the camp. It was just her and the letter.

    She pressed the letter to her chest, closing her eyes as the words settled into her heart. It wasn’t a promise, not exactly, but it was something. It was enough.

    For the first time in a long while, she allowed herself to believe that the life she had dreamed of once might not be so distant, so unattainable. Cullen wasn’t just a part of her past or her present—he was her future. And the idea that he might already be imagining that future too was more comforting than she had expected.

    As the warmth of his words filled her, another thought intruded, bittersweet but persistent: What would have happened if I’d told him sooner? Would they have spent all those years apart, lost on opposite sides of a war? Would the hurt and regret have been avoided? Or was this the way it was always meant to happen—two lives finally colliding when they were ready, when the timing was right?

    Ariana sighed softly, lowering the letter and opening her eyes to the flickering firelight. She let her fingers trace the words one last time before folding the parchment carefully and tucking it into her coat, close to her heart.

    For now, she couldn’t afford to dwell on what-ifs. But the thought of that life, of a future with Cullen in the manor, wasn’t just a fantasy anymore. It was something real, something worth holding onto.

    And as she sat by the fire, the faintest of smiles curved her lips. The weight on her shoulders felt just a little lighter, the road ahead just a little less daunting. Whatever battles lay ahead, she carried his words with her now—a reminder that no matter how far apart they might be in the moment, he was with her. Always.

    “The Sky Watcher… should I even ask?”

    She chuckled softly to herself, shaking her head. “Maker help you, Cullen,” she murmured, her voice warm with affection. “You’re going to have questions when you meet him.”

    The thought made her smile linger a little longer, the warmth of the letter chasing away the chill of the night. For the first time in days, she felt like herself again.

    ~~~

    After a little over two weeks away, Ariana was ready to be back in Skyhold. Every ache in her body begged for rest, but more than that, she longed for something—someone—familiar. The Fallow Mire’s oppressive dampness and the Hinterlands’ relentless unrest had drained her more than she wanted to admit. And as much as she loved her companions, she needed quiet. She needed Cullen.

    When her group stopped to make camp, the faint glow of Skyhold’s lights was visible in the distance, barely breaking through the thick mountain mist. Ariana stood at the edge of the clearing, arms crossed as she stared toward the faint promise of home. They were only a few hours away. She weighed the comfort of staying with her companions against the thought of finally walking through Skyhold’s gates. The decision wasn’t difficult.

    “I’m pushing through,” she announced, turning back to them.

    Cassandra frowned, glancing up from her spot near the fire. “It’s late. The roads could be dangerous in the dark.”

    Ariana smiled faintly, appreciating the concern but shaking her head. “I’ll be fine. I just… I need to be home.”

    Neither Cassandra nor the others protested further, though she caught Dorian giving her a knowing look.

    The gates of Skyhold creaked open to let her in, and Ariana’s heart lifted at the sight of the quiet courtyard. Most of the fortress had settled into sleep, the bustle of daily life replaced by the calm of the late hour. Even the tavern’s usual hum of activity had faded, the faint glow of light through the windows suggesting only a handful of patrons remained.

    She dismounted, handing the reins of her horse to a nearby soldier who looked surprised to see her. “Take care of her, will you?” she said softly, patting the mare’s neck before turning toward the battlements.

    Her gaze fell on the faint light spilling from the tower office she had cleaned up for Cullen before she left. She could just make out his silhouette at the desk, and she felt a pang of affection—and exasperation. Why don’t you ever sleep? she thought, shaking her head. The bridge leading to the tower had been rebuilt in her absence, and she was grateful for the easier access, though she suspected it had been Cullen’s insistence that prioritized it.

    As she climbed the steps, her anticipation mingled with a touch of nervousness. It had been weeks since they’d seen each other, and she could already see the exhaustion etched into his features from where she stood. Have you been sleeping at all? she wondered.

    Her steps slowed as she approached the slightly ajar door. Just as she was about to push it open, a scout hurried through the door leading from the bridge.

    “Report,” Cullen demanded, his tone sharp with impatience.

    “I… yes, sir,” the scout stammered, visibly unnerved. “We are not sure—that is to say… well—”

    “What?” Cullen’s voice rose, the frustration clear. “Where is the Inquisitor?”

    Ariana leaned against the doorframe, tilting her head as she watched the exchange. She raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching with amusement. She had ridden through the gates openly, her arrival far from subtle, and yet here was a scout stumbling over their words, clearly terrified of Cullen’s reaction.

    “Well, sir,” the scout continued, clearing his throat in a futile attempt to steady his voice, “we know she did not camp with her party. They’re accounted for a few hours away from Skyhold. But… the Inquisitor isn’t with them.”

    Cullen’s fist came down hard on the desk, the sound echoing in the room. Before he could unleash whatever was clearly on the tip of his tongue, Ariana decided to intervene.

    “I believe I may be able to help,” she said, her voice light and amused as she pushed the door open further.

    Both Cullen and the scout turned sharply, their expressions shifting from alarm to shock as their gazes landed on her.

    “The Inquisitor just rode through the main gate about ten minutes ago,” she continued, feigning innocence as she crossed her arms. “Hadn’t you mentioned something about improving the accuracy of scout reports, Commander?”

    “Your Worship!” the scout stammered, his face pale.

    “Dismissed,” Ariana said with a wave of her hand, her tone casual but firm. “I’ll handle this.”

    The scout practically bolted from the room, leaving Cullen and Ariana alone. As the door closed behind her, she stepped further in, unable to stop the smile spreading across her face.

    “So…” she began, her voice teasing as her gaze swept the room. “I see you decided to keep this as your office.”

    Cullen’s expression softened the moment the scout left, his frustration melting into something far warmer as his eyes met hers. “Ari…” he murmured, his voice low and full of relief.

    The weariness in his features didn’t escape her, nor did the way his shoulders relaxed as though a weight had been lifted simply by her presence. She crossed the room, closing the space between them in a few quick steps.

    “Did you miss me?” she asked lightly, though the answer was already clear in the way his hands reached for her.

    “You have no idea,” he replied, his tone carrying more emotion than she expected.

    Cullen’s hands rested lightly on her arms as if grounding himself in the reality of her presence. “Why did you ride through the night?” he asked, his voice tinged with both concern and exasperation. “You could have stayed with your group and rested.”

    Ariana raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a faintly amused smile. “Says the man who looks like he hasn’t seen the inside of his bed in two weeks,” she countered, her tone light but pointed.

    Cullen sighed, the corner of his mouth twitching upward despite himself. “That’s different,” he protested, though the argument was weak and they both knew it.

    “Is it?” Ariana stepped closer, tilting her head as she examined his face. “Your eyes are bloodshot, Cullen. How many hours of sleep have you been getting? Two? Three?”

    He avoided her gaze, clearing his throat. “I’ve had… priorities.”

    “So have I,” she replied, arching an eyebrow in mock defiance. “But you don’t see me pushing through and heading somewhere else instead of coming home, do you?”

    His lips parted to respond, but she cut him off with a knowing look. “Before you say it, no, I’m not leaving this office without you. You’re coming to bed, Commander.”

    Cullen hesitated, torn between the work waiting on his desk and the woman standing in front of him. “Ari, I—”

    “Cullen,” she interrupted, her tone softening, though the teasing glint remained in her eyes. “You asked why I rode through the night. It’s because I’d rather be in bed with you. I could just make it an order if that’s easier.”

    That earned a laugh, low and genuine, and he shook his head. “You would.”

    “I would,” she confirmed, her smile widening as she reached for his hand. “But I’d rather not have to. Come on. You’ll work better after some sleep.”

    He sighed, relenting as her fingers intertwined with his, tugging him gently toward the ladder that led to the upper level of the tower.

    Ariana climbed the ladder to the small bedroom above Cullen’s office, her body aching with exhaustion but her mind buzzing with anticipation. As her head crested the floor, she paused, taking in the room she had carefully prepared for them weeks ago. It looked almost untouched—the bed was unmade but looked barely slept in, and the candles arranged precisely the same way.

    Her brow furrowed as she pulled herself the rest of the way up. Had he been sleeping somewhere else? Or worse, had he not been sleeping at all?

    Cullen’s footsteps followed her up the ladder, his heavy boots creaking against the wooden rungs. When he reached the top, she glanced back at him, her gaze sharp despite her weariness.

    “It looks exactly as I left it,” she said softly, her tone somewhere between curiosity and concern.

    Cullen hesitated, his hand lingering on the ladder as he avoided her gaze. “I’ve been… busy,” he admitted, though the slight unease in his voice betrayed the full truth.

    “Busy?” Ariana echoed, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow. “You mean you haven’t slept.”

    He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ve slept. Just… not much.”

    “Cullen,” she muttered, shaking her head as she stepped into the room. She walked over to the bed, her fingers brushing against the untouched blanket. “You can’t do this forever. You also need rest.”

    Cullen followed her, his amber eyes softening as he watched her trace the edges of the room with her gaze. “I know,” he said quietly.

    Her heart ached at his quiet confession, but she pushed it aside, her weariness leaving no room for scolding. Instead, she sank onto the edge of the bed with a sigh, kicking off her boots and leaning back on her hands.

    “Come here,” she said, her voice gentle but insistent.

    Cullen didn’t hesitate this time. He shed his boots and armor quickly, setting everything aside with the efficiency of a soldier. When he turned back to her, she was watching him, her hazel-green eyes soft but tinged with amusement.

    “What?” he asked, tilting his head slightly.

    “Nothing,” she replied, though the faint curve of her lips betrayed her thoughts. “Just wondering if Bull’s right.”

    “Bull?” Cullen frowned as he sat beside her.

    “Apparently, you’ve earned his respect,” Ariana said, her smirk widening as she leaned back on her elbows. “He thinks you deserve a medal.”

    Cullen groaned, running a hand down his face. “What did he say?”

    “Oh, nothing too scandalous,” she teased, her voice light despite her exhaustion. “But let’s just say you’ve impressed him.”

    He shook his head, a low chuckle escaping as he leaned back beside her. “Maker help me. You and Bull are conspiring now?”

    “Not conspiring,” she corrected with a smirk. “Just… bonding over our shared appreciation of you.”

    His laugh was soft, and as it rumbled through her, it eased some of the tension she hadn’t realized she was still carrying.

    She nudged his shoulder with hers. “You really didn’t have to wait for me, you know. I’m tired, but I can take care of myself.”

    “I know you can,” Cullen said, his voice quieter now. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t worry.”

    Ariana sighed, her playful smile softening. “And here I thought I was supposed to be the stubborn one.”

    “You’re not supposed to be anything,” Cullen replied, his hand brushing against hers. “But you are stubborn. And infuriating. And impossible to keep out of trouble.”

    “But do you love me?” she asked, the teasing lilt returning to her voice.

    He smiled, his fingers lacing through hers. “I do.”

    Ariana felt her cheeks warm, even after all these years, and she gave his hand a small squeeze. “Well, in that case, you’ll forgive me for dragging you to bed when you clearly need sleep. And I came home for just this.”

    Cullen opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off with a pointed look.

    “Cullen,” she said firmly, though the corners of her lips twitched with amusement, “I will order you to bed if I have to.”

    He sighed, shaking his head. “I don’t think that’s necessary, Inquisitor.”

    “Good,” she said, tugging him toward the pillows.

    As they settled under the blanket, Cullen hesitated, glancing toward the ladder. “I should—”

    “Stay with me,” Ariana interrupted, her voice barely above a whisper. She shifted closer, resting her head against his chest, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. “Please.”

    His hesitation melted away as he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close. “I’m here,” he murmured, his voice low and steady.

    Ariana closed her eyes, the warmth of his presence grounding her as the exhaustion of the last two weeks finally caught up with her. “I missed this,” she whispered, her words slurring slightly as sleep began to claim her.

    “So did I,” Cullen replied, his hand brushing gently through her hair.

    As her breathing evened out, Cullen lay still, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. For the first time in weeks, he felt a sense of peace settle over him. She was home, safe, and in his arms.

    ~~~

    Cullen stirred awake to the soft light of dawn filtering through the small window above them. The warmth of Ariana’s body against his chest kept him from moving right away, her steady breaths brushing lightly against his skin. He blinked, taking in the quiet moment, and realized she wasn’t fully asleep. Her fingers traced idle patterns along the lines of his muscles, her touch light but absentminded.

    He glanced down, finding her gaze fixed somewhere beyond him, distant and shadowed. The worry etched in her expression tugged at his heart.

    “Ari,” he murmured, his voice still rough from sleep. “What’s wrong?”

    Her fingers stilled, and for a moment, she didn’t answer. Then she sighed softly, her gaze finally meeting his. “It’s… nothing. Just—everything.”

    “That doesn’t sound like nothing,” he said gently, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. “Talk to me.”

    She hesitated, but something in his tone—steady, reassuring—seemed to unlock whatever she’d been holding back. She shifted slightly, propping herself up on her elbow as she looked down at him.

    “It’s the Hinterlands,” she began, her voice quiet. “I knew it was bad, but Cullen… I don’t think I was prepared for what I found this time.” She paused, drawing in a shaky breath. “I’m so tired of finding bodies with letters from their loved ones. Husbands writing to their wives, parents to their children. Innocents caught in the crossfire of a war they didn’t ask for.”

    Cullen frowned, his brows knitting together as he listened.

    “And it’s not just the innocents,” she continued, her voice thick with emotion. “There were mages and Templars, Cullen—people who were lovers or friends. They refused to fight one another, tried to escape to some quiet place where they could be safe together… but they didn’t make it back to each other.”

    Her voice cracked, and she shook her head, her jaw tightening. “Even one of our scouts… she found solace with a mage she met. I saved her from Templars who attacked them, but her mage friend… she was already gone by the time I got there.”

    She looked away, her eyes shimmering faintly in the morning light. “How much more will this war cost, Cullen? How many more lives? It feels like nothing I do will ever be enough.”

    Cullen sat up slowly, his hand reaching for hers. “Ari…” he started, his voice low and steady, but she shook her head.

    After a moment, she eased herself back down, resting her head against his chest. His arm instinctively tightened around her, pulling her close as she continued.

    “The people there—Cullen, they’re desperate. They need supplies, protection. Every time I’m in the Hinterlands, it’s the same story: bandits, rogue mages, rogue Templars wreaking havoc. I need Rangers or Inquisition forces stationed there. Something more permanent.”

    Cullen nodded, his hand brushing along her arm in a quiet attempt to soothe her. “I’ll make it happen.”

    She exhaled slowly, shifting slightly as though trying to find a more comfortable position. “And the red Templars,” she added, her voice hardening. “I ran into a few parties of them. Haven’t found a base or anything deeper, but they’re there, and I don’t know why. Leliana and Linnea need to look into it. Whatever they’re doing, it can’t be good.”

    “I’ll speak with them,” Cullen promised. “We’ll find out what they’re up to.”

    Cullen couldn’t help but feel this was one more lead. They hadn’t talked about it, but Cullen had been looking for the Red Templars, for Samson. Ariana’s lead was one more step, hopefully in the right direction.

    Her shoulders eased slightly at his response, and she let out a deep breath. For the first time since she began speaking, her voice softened. “What can you tell me about Recruit Whittle?” she asked, almost tentatively.

    “Whittle?” Cullen echoed, surprised by the shift. “He’s… young, but eager. Quick to learn. Why?”

    “I like him,” Ariana said simply, her tone lighter now. “He’s practical. When I spoke to him, his concern wasn’t the war or politics—it was making sure the villagers had enough supplies to stay warm. He had good ideas about where to find them, too. Sent me searching for some supply caches left behind by the rebel mages in the area. We need more people who think like that. Those who just want to help those who can’t help themselves.”

    Cullen couldn’t help but smile faintly, his chest tightening with a mixture of pride and amazement. Even with everything weighing on her, she still noticed the recruits no one else might, the ones who thought of solutions rather than problems. “I’ll keep an eye on him.”

    “Thank you,” she said, her lips curving faintly as she shifted to rest more fully against him. “Oh, I also recruited Speaker Anais and her Cult of Andraste. They’ll be spreading word of the Inquisition and should be reporting to Josephine soon. And Lord Berand…” Her voice faltered briefly. “He and his men should be reporting to you as well. I couldn’t save his lover, Cullen. But now, he’s committed to fighting for us.”

    Cullen nodded, his hand brushing lightly over her back in slow, reassuring strokes. “I’ll make sure they’re both welcomed and briefed.”

    Ariana exhaled deeply, her breath warm against his skin as she closed her eyes. “Thank you,” she murmured. Her voice was quieter now, the heaviness in it easing bit by bit.

    Cullen pressed a kiss to her hair, his heart aching at the weight she carried but swelling with admiration for the way she bore it. “You don’t have to do this alone, Ari,” he said softly. “We’re in this together.”

    “I know,” she whispered finally, her voice barely audible.

    She tilted her head to look at him, her hazel-green eyes filled with a mixture of exhaustion and gratitude. “Thank you,” she said again, her lips curving into a faint smile.

    Cullen returned her smile, his fingers brushing lightly against her cheek. “Always.”

    She let out a quiet sigh as she rested her head against his chest once more. Cullen held her close, his own heart aching for the burden she carried, but filled with admiration for the strength she showed every day.

    As her breathing slowed, and she fell asleep again, Cullen couldn’t help but marvel at her. Even in her weariness, even when she doubted herself, she had a way of noticing the things others overlooked—young recruits, struggling scouts, the smallest glimmers of hope in a war-torn world. And somehow, she made those things matter.

    His arm tightened around her protectively, his voice a quiet promise in the stillness of the morning. “You don’t have to carry it all alone, Ari. I’m here. Always.”

  • Chapter 71 – In the Shadow of the Breach

    23 Bloomingtide 9:41

    Cullen stood near the gates, issuing final instructions to the troops. His sharp commands cut through the morning air, but his mind was elsewhere. His gaze kept drifting toward the center of camp, scanning the movements of soldiers and mages alike. Despite the meticulous preparations, an unease had taken root within him. Something he couldn’t shake.

    Then he saw her.

    Ariana emerged from her quarters, and for a moment, Cullen’s words failed him. Her armor, though practical, carried an undeniable elegance—deep blue accented with silver etchings that caught the morning light, regal without being ostentatious. The fitted leather corset hugged her form, emphasizing her strength more than her figure, while the fur-lined cloak draped over her shoulders lent her an air of quiet authority. Her hands flexed briefly at her sides, the faint glow of the mark on her palm catching his eye even through the glove. Her daggers rested at her hips, their hilts familiar and ready, but there was no tension in her stance. Instead, there was resolve—steady, enduring, and unwavering.

    She moved with the quiet confidence he had come to admire, but Cullen could see the weight in her posture—the awareness of what lay ahead. The Breach pulsed ominously in the distance, and though she was determined, no one could face such a trial without feeling its enormity.

    Their eyes met across the distance, and he inclined his head, his silent acknowledgment drawing a faint smile from her. She adjusted her stride, walking toward him.

    “Commander,” she said as she approached, her tone light but carrying a note of finality.

    “Ariana,” he replied, his voice softer than he intended. He glanced around briefly, ensuring the soldiers were occupied before stepping closer and placing a hand on her waist. “Are you ready?”

    “As much as I’ll ever be,” she replied, a flicker of humor in her voice. But her eyes betrayed her. She was steady, focused—but not invincible. And the knowledge tightened something in his chest.

    “Ariana,” he began, his tone dropping to something quieter, more personal. “I need you to promise me something.”

    She tilted her head slightly, a flicker of curiosity crossing her face. “What is it?”

    “Be careful,” he said, the words heavy with meaning. “I know what’s at stake—I know what you’re walking into. But I also know you. You take risks, more than you should, and I can’t—” He cut himself off, his jaw tightening as he fought to find the right words. “I can’t lose you.”

    Her expression softened, and she took a step closer. “Cullen…”

    He met her gaze, the intensity in his eyes catching her off guard. “Promise me, Ariana. Promise me you’ll come back.”

    Her expression softened as she placed her hand on his arm. “Is that an order, Commander?” she asked, a teasing smile tugging at her lips.

    Cullen blinked, momentarily taken aback before a soft chuckle escaped him. “It is,” he said, his tone light but the earnestness in his eyes unwavering.

    Ariana shook her head, her smile widening. “You’re awfully demanding, you know that?”

    “It’s a skill that comes with the rank,” he replied, his lips quirking into a small smile.

    “Well,” she said, tilting her head slightly, “I’ll do my best not to disappoint you.”

    “You never do,” Cullen replied softly, his gaze holding hers. “But I need your promise, Ariana. Promise me you’ll come back.”

    Her teasing expression faltered, replaced by something more serious. She hesitated, the weight of his request settling over her. “I’ll do everything I can to come back,” she said quietly. “I promise.”

    He exhaled, relief flickering across his face, though his concern didn’t entirely fade. “Thank you.”

    For a moment, they stood in silence, the weight of the morning pressing down on them. Finally, Ariana broke the tension with a faint smirk. “You know, for someone who claims he can’t lose me, you’re very good at sending me off into mortal danger.”

    Cullen let out a soft laugh, the sound easing some of the tension in the air. “It’s not my preference, believe me.”

    “Good,” she quipped, the lightness returning to her voice. “I’d hate to think you were getting comfortable with it.”

    “Not in the slightest,” he replied, his smile softening as he glanced toward the Breach. “But I believe in you, Ariana. More than you know.”

    Her smirk softened into a genuine smile, and she inclined her head. “I’ll see you when this is done, Commander.”

    “Until then… Herald,” Cullen said, his voice steady but warm.

    As she turned and walked away, Cullen watched her go, the unease in his chest warring with the flicker of hope her promise had given him. Today, the fate of the world rested on her shoulders—and all he could do was trust her to return.

    ~~~

    The weight of Cullen’s words followed Ariana like a shadow as they neared the Temple of Sacred Ashes. The brisk mountain air stung her cheeks, but the ache in her chest was far harder to ignore. Promise me you’ll come back.

    The memory played over and over, each repetition tying a knot tighter around her ribs. He hadn’t just asked her—he’d ordered her, his voice both unyielding and pleading. The desperation in his eyes had spoken louder than his words, and she’d felt it like a blow. She had promised, of course, but she knew promises weren’t guarantees.

    Ahead of her, Solas walked with his usual grace, his shoulders set with purpose. He was explaining something about the mark and its connection to the Veil, but his voice barely registered over the noise in her head. The Breach pulsed ominously in the sky, its unnatural green glow casting an eerie light over their path.

    “Ariana,” Solas said, his voice breaking through her thoughts. He slowed his pace, turning to meet her gaze. “Are you listening?”

    She blinked, refocusing. “Yes,” she lied, though her tone lacked conviction.

    Solas turned back toward her, his expression unreadable. “Remember, Herald,” he said quietly, his tone cautious but firm. “When the time comes, you must focus. The energy will be overwhelming, and the temptation to let it consume you will be strong. You must fight it.”

    “I will,” Ariana interrupted, her voice firmer now. “I know what’s at stake.”

    Solas nodded, though his expression betrayed a flicker of doubt. “Good. Then let us proceed.”

    Cassandra fell into step beside her, her presence a steadying force. “You will succeed,” she said, her tone more commanding than reassuring. “You have come this far. Do not falter now.”

    “I don’t intend to,” Ariana replied, though her voice was softer than Cassandra’s.

    Still, Cullen’s voice echoed in her mind. Promise me you’ll come back. She had given him that promise, but as she stared ahead at the Breach, she couldn’t ignore the uncertainty gnawing at her. She knew what she was walking into, knew the risks, but Cullen’s words had turned the stakes into something more personal.

    Dorian, sensing the tension, sidled up beside her. “You know,” he began, his tone light, “if you die up there, I’m going to be insufferable. I’ll have to write a tragic ode, mourn you dramatically, and make everyone feel guilty for not appreciating you enough while you were alive.”

    Ariana snorted softly despite herself. “Is that your idea of encouragement?”

    “Encouragement?” Dorian feigned offense, placing a hand over his chest. “Darling, I’m trying to motivate you with the sheer horror of leaving me to suffer through all this without you.”

    “You’re terrible at this,” she said, shaking her head.

    “Terrible? Or brilliant?” he quipped, flashing her a grin. “I’m fairly certain it’s the latter.”

    “Both,” Cassandra interjected, her tone dry.

    “Ah, Seeker,” Dorian said with a dramatic sigh. “Your faith in me is as unwavering as ever.”

    “Unwaveringly skeptical,” she replied, though a faint smirk tugged at her lips.

    Ariana allowed herself a brief smile, the banter pulling her from her thoughts, if only for a moment. But as they continued their march, her mind inevitably returned to Cullen. The way he’d looked at her, the way his hand had lingered on her waist—it had been more than worry. It had been fear.

    And she hated that she couldn’t ease it.

    I will survive, she told herself again, her hand unconsciously brushing the mark on her palm. The faint glow pulsed beneath her glove, a reminder of the power she carried—and the cost it might demand.

    “Peace and quiet,” she muttered under her breath, echoing the earlier banter. “I could use that right about now.”

    “Boring,” Dorian replied, overhearing her. “But if it’s what you truly want, I suppose I could learn to respect it. Temporarily.”

    She smiled faintly, but her gaze remained fixed on the Breach. It loomed larger now, its malevolent light casting their shadows long across the rocky path.

    Just survive, she thought again, her promise to Cullen like an anchor in the storm of her thoughts. Whatever happens, just survive. And she would. No matter the cost. Because losing him again wasn’t something she could bear. Not when they had finally found their way back to each other. Not when they still had a future to fight for.

    ~~~

    The Temple of Sacred Ashes loomed before them, its ruins casting jagged, haunting shadows over the gathered forces stationed at a “safe” distance. Soldiers and templars held their positions, their stances rigid, the tension palpable even from afar. The area closest to the Breach was reserved for Ariana, Cassandra, Solas, Dorian, and the mages prepared to lend their strength.

    Ariana stared up at the swirling, sickly green tear in the sky. It pulsed with an unnatural rhythm, like a heartbeat gone horribly wrong, casting an eerie glow over the shattered remnants of the temple. The sight of it twisted something deep inside her, a mix of dread and resolve. This was it—the moment that would decide everything.

    Solas stepped forward, his voice calm yet commanding as he addressed the mages. “Focus past the Herald! Let her will draw from you. Offer no resistance—be as the current to her hand.”

    The mages nodded, their expressions a mix of fear, determination, and resignation. Ariana took a deep breath, her fingers curling into fists before she forced them to relax. Her heart pounded in her chest, loud and steady, as if trying to remind her she was still alive. For now.

    The Breach loomed impossibly large, its hum vibrating through her bones, making the mark on her hand throb in recognition. It felt as though the Breach itself saw her, hated her for daring to challenge it. She didn’t need to glance back to know every eye was on her—companions, soldiers, templars, and mages alike. For them, she couldn’t falter.

    But her thoughts betrayed her. Cullen’s voice echoed in her mind, unshakable and grounding. Promise me you’ll come back. Promise me.

    How could I have promised him that? she thought bitterly, her gaze fixed on the Breach. She felt the warmth of his hand again, the intensity of his eyes, the weight of his words. She had meant it when she said she’d come back—Maker, how she had meant it. But now, standing in the shadow of the Breach, the sheer force of its energy washing over her like an ocean tide, the promise felt fragile, breakable.

    And yet, she couldn’t let it end here. She couldn’t let the last few days—their quiet moments, their stolen glances, and the memory of his hand brushing her cheek—be the only thing they got. After all these years, after everything they had lost, she couldn’t leave it at that. She had once promised him her whole life, and now, more than ever, she was determined that life would be a long one. It has to be.

    “You can do this, Herald,” Cassandra said from behind her, her voice steady and strong. Ariana glanced over her shoulder and saw the Seeker’s nod of encouragement, the rare softness in her otherwise stern expression.

    Dorian caught her eye, offering a grin. “Don’t forget to make it look good. You’ve got an audience.”

    Ariana huffed a quiet laugh, though it was more an exhale than anything else. Solas stood still, his expression unreadable but his presence somehow steadying.

    Turning back to the Breach, Ariana raised her hand. The mark on her palm ignited, searing with light as the power surged outward. She forced her focus onto the rift, drawing on the strength of the mages behind her. Energy crackled in the air, wild and volatile, threatening to pull her apart as she wrestled to control it.

    The torrent of magic felt endless, an ocean she was trying to contain with bare hands. It was chaos—violent, unrelenting chaos—and it demanded everything from her. Her mind screamed for relief, her body trembled from the strain, but she refused to give in.

    The Breach pushed back, its power surging in defiance. For a terrible moment, she thought it might consume her entirely. But then Cullen’s words came back, firm and steady: But I believe in you, Ariana. More than you know.

    Then believe in me now, she thought fiercely. Gritting her teeth, she pushed harder, her entire being focused on the task. The mark flared brighter, and the Breach wavered, its edges folding inward.

    With a deafening sound like thunder splitting the heavens, the Breach collapsed in on itself. The green light dimmed, folding smaller and smaller until, with a final boom, it vanished. A shockwave rippled outward, throwing everyone to the ground.

    The silence that followed was staggering.

    Cassandra was the first to recover, scrambling to her feet and scanning the area. Mages groaned as they pulled themselves upright, many looking dazed. Soldiers in the distance stood frozen, their breaths visible in the chill morning air.

    “Ariana?” Cassandra’s voice was sharp, urgent as her eyes searched the wreckage.

    Near the center of the ruins, Ariana was down on one knee, her hand pressed into the ground for balance. Her breathing was heavy, her head bowed, but she was upright. Cassandra was at her side in moments, kneeling to place a firm hand on her shoulder.

    “You did it!” Cassandra said, her voice filled with a rare note of pride and something bordering on awe.

    Ariana raised her head, exhaustion plain on her face. For a moment, she simply blinked at Cassandra, her mind struggling to process the words. Then, slowly, a small, tired smile tugged at her lips. “We did it,” she corrected softly.

    The cheers began faintly, scattered voices among the mages and soldiers. Then, like a wave, the sound grew, rolling across the battlefield as the realization of what had happened sank in. The Breach was gone.

    Ariana swayed as she stood, Cassandra immediately steadying her. Her legs felt like lead, and every muscle in her body protested, but she forced herself upright.

    Dorian and Solas reached her, their expressions triumphant.

    “Not bad for someone who just traveled through time,” Dorian said with a grin, clapping her lightly on the shoulder.

    Solas offered a small nod of approval. “You are more resilient than I gave you credit for, Herald.”

    Ariana let out a soft laugh, though it was weak. Her gaze drifted to the temple ruins behind them, the absence of the Breach almost surreal. For the first time in what felt like ages, there was a glimmer of hope.

    Cassandra fell into step beside her as they began walking back, her voice quieter now. “You should be proud. You’ve given them something to believe in.”

    Ariana’s eyes remained distant, her thoughts lingering on Cullen, on the promise she’d made. This isn’t over, she thought as she glanced at her trembling hand. I promised him I’d come back—and I did. But now I need to keep fighting. For him. For us.

    And as they moved through the cheering crowd, her hand drifted briefly to her left forearm. A phantom ache lingered there, a subtle reminder of what she had survived before—and the strength she would need to keep going.

    ~~~

    Cullen stood at the edge of the camp, his posture rigid, arms crossed tightly over his chest. The soldiers around him were cheering, their voices rising in jubilant waves that carried through the chill morning air. But he barely heard it. His gaze was fixed on the distant path winding down from the temple ruins, every muscle in his body taut with anticipation.

    The Breach was gone—that much was clear. The gaping wound in the sky, the unnatural green light that had cast its eerie glow over Haven for what felt like an eternity, was no more. Relief swept through him like a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, but it wasn’t complete. Not yet.

    Not until he saw her.

    Time dragged cruelly, each passing second tightening the knot in his chest. He had never felt so powerless, forced to stand on the sidelines while she faced the impossible. He clenched his hands into fists, the leather of his gloves creaking under the strain. The thought of losing her—after finally getting her back after all these years—was unbearable. He had promised himself once, long ago, that Ariana would be his wife, that their lives would intertwine. He hadn’t given up on that dream. He wouldn’t.

    At last, movement on the path caught his eye. A group was descending from the ruins: mages, templars, soldiers. And then, at the center of it all—Ariana.

    His breath left him in a rush, his shoulders sagging slightly as the tension drained from his body. She moved with purpose, though her steps were slower than usual. Her armor bore new scratches, and a faint red mark marred her temple where debris must have struck her. But she was upright. She was alive.

    Cullen let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, relief washing over him like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. She had kept her promise.

    Her gaze found his even from a distance, and he saw the faint curve of her lips—a tired, triumphant smile. She had done it. Of course she had. She always did.

    Before he knew it, his legs were carrying him toward her, his strides quick and determined. The closer he came, the more he could see the weariness etched into her features, the subtle tremor in her movements. But she was here. She was whole.

    When they finally stood face-to-face, he reached for her hands without hesitation, his fingers curling around hers as though he needed to feel her warmth to believe she was real.

    “You’re alright,” he said softly, his voice carrying a mix of relief and something deeper—something he couldn’t quite put into words.

    Ariana tilted her head, her smile growing faintly mischievous despite her weariness. “Of course I am. I had orders to follow, didn’t I?”

    Cullen let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “So that’s what it takes to get you to listen—formal orders?”

    “Apparently,” she replied, her tone light but her eyes betraying the weight of what she’d just endured. “You might want to savor the moment. I’m not known for making a habit of it.”

    “I’ll take what I can get,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips. His hands tightened slightly around hers as he added, more seriously, “You did it. Ariana, you…” His words faltered, emotion tightening his throat.

    Ariana squeezed his hands gently, her gaze steady. “We did it,” she corrected, her voice soft but resolute. “I couldn’t have done this alone.”

    Cullen nodded, though his expression betrayed the depth of his feelings. He couldn’t fully agree. To him, the Breach might have been sealed with the strength of many, but the weight of it had rested squarely on her shoulders.

    “Come on,” Ariana said after a moment, her tone shifting to something lighter. “Let’s get back to Haven. I could use a hot meal. Or a nap. Maybe both.”

    “Both sounds reasonable,” Cullen replied, stepping beside her as they began walking down the path together.

    The noise of the camp grew louder as they approached, but for a while, they walked in companionable silence. Cullen’s hand remained entwined with hers, the contact grounding them both.

    His mind drifted back to the promises he had made to himself—back in Kirkwall, back during the Blight, and all the days in between. He had vowed to stand by her, to fight for her, to give her the life she deserved. He had never stopped believing in that dream, even when the world had done its best to tear them apart.

    As they neared the gates of Haven, Ariana glanced at him, her expression softer now. “Thank you,” she said quietly.

    “For what?” Cullen asked, his brow furrowing slightly.

    “For making me promise,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “For reminding me to survive.”

    Cullen didn’t respond immediately, but the look he gave her said more than words could. Finally, he squeezed her hand again and murmured, “Always.”

    They crossed the gates together, the weight of the day lingering like a shadow, but for now, the promise of tomorrow felt a little less daunting with their hands clasped firmly between them.

    ~~~

    The festive air in Haven was intoxicating. Laughter and music spilled from the tavern, bonfires crackled warmly, and the scent of roasted meats mingled with the crisp mountain breeze. People danced and sang, sharing exaggerated tales of heroism and daring feats. For the first time in months, the shadow of despair no longer loomed over the camp.

    Ariana stood near the Chantry courtyard, her arms crossed as she leaned on a stack of crates. The faint glow of lanterns lit the faces of those gathered below, their smiles radiant in the soft light. She allowed herself a rare moment to simply watch, her lips curving into a small smile.

    This is what hope feels like, she thought. This is what we’re fighting for.

    The Breach was gone, sealed by her own hand with the strength of the mages behind her. For the first time since the Conclave, the sky above Haven was still. It felt like breathing fresh air after being submerged for far too long. They were one step closer to preventing the dark future she had seen, and the weight of that knowledge made the celebration feel even more meaningful.

    But even as she tried to let the joy of the moment settle over her, a quiet tension lingered in the back of her mind. She knew this wasn’t the end—far from it. The Elder One was still out there, his plans still in motion. They had won the battle, but the war had only just begun.

    The sound of boots crunching on the gravel path drew her attention, and she turned to see Cassandra approaching. The Seeker’s expression was calm, but there was a softness in her gaze that betrayed her own sense of relief.

    “Solas confirms the heavens are scarred but calm,” Cassandra said as she came to stand beside her. “The Breach is sealed. We’ve received reports of lingering rifts, and there are still questions to be answered, but… this was a victory. Word of your heroism has spread.”

    Ariana chuckled softly, shaking her head. “Don’t they know I fell into this? Almost literally.”

    Cassandra’s lips twitched into a faint smile. “Perhaps you’re too close to judge. We needed you. We still do. We have yet to discover how the Breach came to be, and that is only the most conspicuous of our troubles.” She paused, her tone turning more somber. “Strange days, and more to come.”

    Ariana nodded, her gaze drifting back to the celebration. “For now, though… let them have this. We’ve all earned it.”

    The moment seemed to linger, a fleeting reprieve in the chaos that had defined their lives. But then, the sound of alarm bells shattered the calm, sharp and jarring against the cheerful din. The music and laughter died instantly, replaced by confusion and fear as people turned toward the source of the noise. Soldiers scrambled, the festive air dissolving into a frantic storm of activity.

    Ariana’s heart clenched, the shift in atmosphere like a blow. Before she could process the sound fully, Cullen’s voice rang out, steady and commanding: “Forces approaching! To arms!”

    Her hand flew to the daggers at her hips as she straightened, the instincts of battle taking over. She exchanged a glance with Cassandra, and in that shared look, no words were needed. They broke into a sprint toward the gates, the light and warmth of Haven fading behind them as chaos surged ahead.

    The clang of armor, the shouted orders, the flicker of torches—it all blurred together as they reached the walls. Soldiers were already forming ranks, their movements quick and practiced, though the tension in the air was thick enough to taste. The faint sound of distant war horns carried through the night, chilling Ariana more than the mountain air ever could.

    And there he was. Cullen stood at the forefront, his presence a steadying anchor amidst the rising storm. The torchlight cast sharp lines across his face, his expression focused and unyielding. His voice cut through the noise with sharp precision, barking orders to the soldiers around him. He had always been this way in battle: calm, collected, decisive. Watching him now, she couldn’t help but marvel at the strength he radiated, the way he commanded not just with authority but with purpose.

    He was made for this, she thought, her heart tightening with something that was equal parts admiration and pride. Cullen had always been a soldier, a leader, but in moments like these, she saw more than that. She saw the man Thedas needed—the man she needed.

    He had carried so much on his shoulders, more than anyone should, and still, he stood. Still, he fought. Ariana rarely allowed herself to admit just how much she believed in him, how much she drew strength from his unwavering focus. But she felt it now, steadying her, grounding her as the chaos swirled around them.

    She had promised herself to him once, long ago. And despite everything, she had never stopped believing in that promise—or in him.

    Ariana forced herself to move, her steps deliberate as she approached him. His voice rang out again, directing soldiers to reinforce the gates, to hold the line. Even as she drew closer, he didn’t falter, didn’t glance away from the soldiers he was rallying.

    “Cullen,” she called, her voice steady despite the unease twisting in her gut.

    His gaze snapped to hers, and for a moment, the tension in his features softened, just barely.

    But before she could say another word, the horns sounded again—closer now. The darkness beyond the gates seemed to pulse, the faint flicker of distant firelight illuminating something… moving.

    Ariana froze, her breath catching as unease coiled tighter in her chest. Whatever was coming, it wasn’t ordinary. It wasn’t human.

    The noise around them grew louder—shouts, orders, the clatter of weapons being drawn. The celebratory glow of Haven had been snuffed out entirely, replaced by the cold, sharp edge of looming danger.

    Cullen stepped forward, his expression hardening once more. “Positions!” he called, his voice carrying over the din.

    Ariana’s hand tightened on the hilt of her dagger as she moved to his side, her heart pounding in her chest. The flicker of torches, the distant horns, the shifting shadows—they all seemed to blur together as the unknown bore down on them.

    Whatever was coming, it was here.

  • Chapter 70 – Let Tomorrow Be Enough

    18 – 22 Bloomingtide 9:41

    Before Ariana could make her way into the war room, the Chantry doors opened once more, letting in a burst of chill morning air. It was Riley. Ariana froze for a moment, her breath catching as relief swept through her. After what Leliana had told her about Cullen’s fate in the dark future, she couldn’t help but imagine Riley had suffered a similar one. Seeing her now, safe and whole, was like a weight lifting off her chest.

    Without a second thought, she crossed the distance between them and wrapped Riley in a tight hug. She held on longer than she usually would, letting herself savor the reassurance of her friend’s solid presence.

    Riley returned the hug with easy warmth, though her tone stayed casual, as if she sensed Ariana needed the familiarity of their banter more than anything serious.

    “You know,” Riley chuckled, patting her back lightly, “if you keep this up, I might start thinking you missed me.”

    Ariana stepped back, her usual teasing grin already returning. “Don’t flatter yourself. It’s just this one time.”

    “Pretty sure it’s been two or three times now,” Riley replied with a mock-thoughtful expression, though the smirk tugging at her lips gave her away.

    Ariana waved her hand dismissively, grinning. “Details.”

    Riley tilted her head, her expression softening briefly as she studied Ariana’s face. “You look better,” she said, her tone gentler now. “Last I heard, Redcliffe was… a mess.”

    The smile faltered on Ariana’s lips for the briefest moment, but she recovered quickly, steering the conversation to business. “How’s our progress in the Hinterlands?”

    “Good. We left when the Fereldan army marched in. Figured they could handle it from there,” Riley replied with a shrug. Her smirk turned curious as she added, “So… why’d the Fereldan army finally decide to get off their asses?”

    Ariana raised an eyebrow, her voice light but carrying a playful edge. “Oh, you know, just the usual. You were right, a Tevinter magister had taken over Redcliffe Castle.”

    “That all?” Riley asked, her tone dry.

    “Well, he also cast a time spell to get to Redcliffe before me, sent me into the future, and conscripted the mages into service for the Imperium,” Ariana added. Her smirk grew as she spoke casually, but the humor didn’t fully mask the weight she was carrying. She folded her arms and tilted her head, feigning nonchalance.

    Riley blinked at her, unimpressed. “Right. So, the usual, then.”

    “Precisely,” Ariana replied with a laugh. Riley always had that effect on her—taking the worst of things and making them manageable, even if only for a moment.

    Riley shook her head, smirking. “Tavern in a bit?”

    “Absolutely,” Ariana replied without hesitation, her grin unwavering. She didn’t need to think twice. She had always valued moments like these, and right now, sharing a drink with Riley felt like the perfect way to remind herself that not everything was on fire.

    As Riley walked further into the Chantry, Ariana lingered for a moment, watching her go with a soft, content smile. The thought of sitting down with Riley by the fire, sharing stories over a pint of ale, felt like the first real break she could remember in what felt like forever. For a moment, she allowed herself to breathe, to let the weight of everything ease just a little.

    She’d spent so long focused on the battles ahead, on the horrors she’d seen, but now she realized something else—these moments, however fleeting, were just as important. As she followed Riley toward the war room, Ariana felt, if only for a moment, like herself again.

    ~~~

    Riley leaned back in her chair, her smirk widening as she sipped her drink. “So, Wolf, what’s this I hear about a certain Commander sneaking flowers into your quarters?”

    “Maker help me,” Ariana muttered, dragging a hand down her face in exasperation.

    Dorian perked up instantly, his charming tone dripping with mischief. “Flowers, you say? My, my, this is delicious. Do go on,” he said, turning toward Riley with exaggerated curiosity.

    “Oh, you know,” Riley said, her grin wicked. “The usual—moonlit rendezvous, clandestine bouquets… jasmines and lilacs, I heard. Someone has impeccable taste.”

    Before Ariana could muster a retort, Valentina leaned forward, her voice rich with amusement. “And here I thought the Commander only had eyes for strategy meetings and training drills. Did he ever get you flowers before?”

    Ariana groaned, her face already warm as she buried it in her hands. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

    “Oh, but it’s happening,” Varric cut in, leaning on the table with a wide grin. “Word is the Commander carried you back to your quarters after you rode into Haven like a bat out of hell. The soldiers are practically writing sonnets about it.”

    “Excellent material for your next book, don’t you think?” Valentina added, her smirk teasing.

    “I hate you all,” Ariana mumbled, her voice muffled.

    “Uh-huh,” Varric said, smirking. “So… do we finally have a wedding date?”

    Ariana threw her hands up. “There is no wedding date! And the flowers weren’t even from him! A soldier brought them to me.”

    As her hands fell back to her lap, Dorian’s sharp eyes narrowed, zeroing in like a hawk spotting prey. He leaned forward, pointing dramatically. “Wait just a moment… what is that?”

    “What’s what?” Ariana asked, confused by his sudden intensity.

    “That.” Dorian gestured emphatically at her left hand. “That sparkling, suspiciously engagement-shaped ring you’re wearing.”

    Ariana sighed, shaking her head. “That would be…” she began, looking around the table at the people who already knew exactly what it was, “an engagement ring…”

    “Now this is a story I need to hear,” Dorian said, grabbing her wrist lightly and holding her hand up for all to see. “Is that from the Commander?”

    Varric let out a bark of laughter, leaning back in his chair. “Well, Pup, looks like you’re caught.”

    Riley smirked, crossing her arms. “And here I thought we’d already had enough fun at her expense today.”

    Valentina, leaning her chin on her hand, grinned slyly. “Apparently, we were just getting started.”

    “Alright, alright!” Ariana said, pulling her hand back and glaring at the group, though her face was redder than the wine in front of Dorian. “There’s nothing new to tell.”

    “Oh, it’s all new to me,” Dorian said, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “So why don’t you start from the beginning.”

    “Maker save me,” Ariana muttered, glancing around at her grinning companions. She finally locked eyes with Dorian, her expression resigned. “It’s a long story, but yes, it’s from Cullen.”

    The table erupted in noise, a mixture of laughter, gasps, and teasing.

    “Cullen?” Dorian repeated, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “You’ve been holding out on me, my dear. Here I didn’t think he had it in him…”

    “We were engaged,” Ariana admitted, her voice almost drowned out by the commotion. “Years ago, before… well, everything.”

    “And yet here you are, wearing his ring again,” Riley pointed out, her smirk practically splitting her face. “That’s not exactly subtle, Wolf.”

    “Because I never stopped loving him!” Ariana blurted out before slapping a hand over her mouth.

    The table went silent for a beat. Then Varric let out a low whistle. “Well, there it is. If I’d known this was going to turn into material for one of my romance serials, I’d have brought more drinks.”

    Ariana groaned, burying her face in her hands. “Can we not do this right now?”

    Dorian, however, looked unexpectedly thoughtful. “Well,” he said, sitting back with a grin that was less teasing and more approving, “I must say, I can’t fault your taste. The Commander does have a certain rugged charm about him. But if you’re going to rekindle old flames, my dear, you’d better keep me in the loop. I live for this sort of drama.”

    “But haven’t you heard?” Valentina asked teasingly, looking at Dorian. “It would seem that our dear Wolf and the Commander were locked in her quarters for two days… alone.”

    “Oh… do tell!” Dorian said excitedly. “Two days? Is he as good as I imagine he would be?”

    Ariana’s face flushed a deeper shade of red if that was even possible.

    Riley patted Ariana’s shoulder sympathetically. “Andraste’s knickers! It’s true then? Is that what you were doing for two days, Wolf? You’ll never live this down now.”

    “You’re all insufferable,” Ariana muttered, dropping her head back into her hands as her face flushed into a deep shade of crimson that seemed impossible.

    “Ah, but you love us for it,” Valentina quipped, raising her glass in a mock toast.

    The banter was in full swing when the tavern door opened, and Cullen stepped inside. Ariana glanced up, her amusement fading as her cheeks quickly regained the crimson color that had finally been clearing. His gaze landed on her, and a faint, familiar smile tugged at his lips.

    “Oh, this is too good,” Varric said, grinning as he noticed her reaction.

    “Perfect timing,” Dorian chimed in, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Oh, Commander?” he called out, waving cheerfully.

    Ariana groaned audibly and thunked her head down onto the table, her mortification complete. The group erupted into laughter, their teasing reaching new heights as Cullen began making his way over.

    Riley leaned closer, her voice low enough only Ariana could hear. “You know, Wolf, you make it far too easy for us.”

    Valentina chimed in, her voice equally low but laced with amusement. “He certainly plays the part of knight in shining armor well…”

    Ariana muttered something unintelligible into the table, her only solace being that Cullen likely hadn’t overheard—yet. But as his footsteps drew nearer, she knew her reprieve was about to end.

    ~~~

    As Cullen reached the table, he was immediately met with Dorian’s trademark mischief.

    “Commander,” Dorian began smoothly, his grin already promising trouble, “Perfect timing. Now we can truly get into the details! How do you feel about red and gold as a color scheme?”

    “A color—for what?” Cullen asked, his brow furrowing in genuine confusion.

    “Just don’t answer that,” Ariana cut in quickly, her voice muffled by her hands. “Trust me.”

    Dorian waved her off with dramatic flair. “Fine, fine, I can make that decision on my own. Now, how about Denerim Palace, Commander? Or do we need something more grand? We could move it to Orlais if that’s the case.”

    Cullen blinked, glancing at Ariana, who looked ready to disappear into the table. “I… don’t—what are you talking about?”

    “Oh, don’t be coy,” Dorian said with mock exasperation. “We’re talking about your wedding, of course. The event of the Age! Don’t worry; I’ll handle the details.”

    “Maker help me,” Cullen muttered, though a faint smile tugged at his lips. He was starting to understand why Ariana looked like she wanted the floor to swallow her whole.

    Riley leaned in, her grin wicked. “Oh, we’re just helping Wolf here plan for all the rumors flying around Haven. You know, flowers, romantic dinners in the war room, being locked in her room for two days, the engagement ring…”

    Cullen blinked. “The enga—” His mind caught up, and his gaze snapped to Ariana, who looked like she wanted to vanish. Then it clicked. “Oh.”

    “Oh, and let’s not forget the infamous scandalous Hightown strolls,” Varric added with a grin, leaning back in his chair. “You remember those, don’t you, Commander?”

    Ariana groaned audibly, lifting her head just enough to glare at him. “Don’t you dare.”

    Cullen chuckled, settling into the seat next to Ariana. “The rumors in Kirkwall? Those are… hard to forget. Some of them were quite entertaining.” His tone turned teasing as he added, “You probably never heard the ones that stayed in the Gallows.”

    That earned a round of laughter from the table, but Ariana looked positively alarmed now. Her wide eyes and deepening blush betrayed her growing mortification. “Cullen…”

    “Oh, the Lowtown rumors,” he continued with feigned thoughtfulness, as though he hadn’t heard her. “Now those were even more… colorful. Something about sneaking into your room every night for vigor–”

    “Cullen!” Ariana interrupted shooting him a sharp glare.

    Dorian and Varric were in stitches, their laughter echoing through the tavern. “Lowtown certainly has its charms,” Dorian said between chuckles. “But I imagine the Hightown rumors had more… elegance?”

    “Oh, yes,” Cullen agreed with a grin. “Hightown cared more about whether the ‘black sheep of the Trevelyan family’ might actually marry a Knight-Captain.”

    “And some even suggested I’d already proposed,” he added wryly, casting a glance at Ariana. “Do you remember the time I knelt in front of you on that bench?”

    Riley’s eyes widened with mock incredulity. “Wait—you knelt? In Hightown? Maker’s breath, Commander, do you know how rumors work?”

    Ariana groaned again, burying her face in her hands. “See? Riley gets it. Are you ever going to let that go?”

    “Not a chance,” Cullen replied, his amusement evident. “She practically leapt out of her seat as if it had caught on fire.”

    “You were kneeling in front of me!” Ariana protested, finally lifting her head to glare at him, though the embarrassed grin tugging at her lips gave her away. “In Hightown. Where the rumors were already bad enough!”

    “It wasn’t a proposal,” Cullen said with mock innocence, his grin widening. “I just needed to make sure you were alright. You looked so flustered I thought something was wrong.”

    “Because you were kneeling!” Ariana shot back, shaking her head. “Maker’s breath, I still don’t know what you were thinking.”

    The group dissolved into laughter, even Ariana finally giving in, though her cheeks remained a vivid red. Cullen leaned back in his chair, his own laugh softer but no less genuine. Watching her now—flustered, exasperated, and glowing with life—made every teasing comment worth it.

    “Alright, alright,” Ariana said, holding up her hands in surrender. “Are we done embarrassing me yet?”

    “Not even close,” Dorian declared, his grin wicked. “But don’t worry, dear Herald. It’s all in good fun. And really, if you didn’t want rumors, you shouldn’t have been so… interesting.”

    Ariana rolled her eyes, exasperated but smiling. Cullen leaned in slightly, his voice quiet enough for only her to hear. “For what it’s worth,” he said softly, his tone warm, “I wouldn’t trade any of it. Not a single rumor.”

    Ariana turned to meet his gaze, her blush softening into something more thoughtful. For a moment, the teasing and laughter faded into the background as they shared a quiet understanding. Cullen held her gaze a second longer before straightening, his focus shifting back to the group just as Dorian launched into a fresh round of wedding planning.

    “Commander,” Dorian called, his grin sharp. “So, colors, what do you think of deep reds and golds?”

    Cullen glanced at Ariana, smirking faintly before answering. “She would prefer blue and silver.”

    Ariana blinked, clearly caught off guard. “How did you—?”

    That was all it took to send the table into another uproar of laughter. Cullen simply smiled, letting the moment stretch. He might not have all the answers, but in this fleeting instance, he felt a rare certainty—one that spoke of knowing her, of being hers, in a way no rumor could ever capture.

    ~~~

    The past few days in Haven had been a rare reprieve, a brief moment where the constant battles and tension had eased. With the mages recruited and a plan to close the Breach forming, there was, for the first time, a glimmer of hope that the end of this nightmare might be within reach. The air around the village felt lighter, and even the most hardened soldiers seemed less grim. But Ariana couldn’t shake the weight on her shoulders.

    For now, most of Haven didn’t know about the dark future she had seen. And she intended to keep it that way. Let them enjoy this moment, free of the knowledge of what awaited if they failed.

    Ariana herself had spent much of the past two days in her quarters, allowing herself to rest, to let the bruises and minor injuries she’d sustained in Redcliffe and the future begin to heal. Her mind, though, refused to settle. Every time she thought about the Breach, the Elder One, or the fragile alliance between templars and mages, she found herself spiraling into what-ifs. She was running out of time to stop the chaos.

    This afternoon, she had attempted to distract herself with “light” reading—the writ from the Divine that granted authority to the Inquisition. It was hardly the most riveting choice, but the words had been a welcome reprieve from her own thoughts. For a while, she had managed to lose herself in the legal language, deciphering the structure of how the Inquisition had come to exist. But eventually, even that failed to keep her mind occupied.

    Her thoughts had begun circling back to darker places when a knock at the door snapped her out of her reverie. “Come,” she called, closing the book and setting it aside.

    The door creaked open, and Cullen stepped in, his frame filling the doorway. He paused when he saw her sitting on the bed, wrapped in her robe, the sunlight from the window catching the loose strands of her dark hair.

    “If you’re busy, I can come back later,” he said, his tone uncertain.

    Ariana glanced at the book and laughed. “Oh, this?” She held it up to show him the cover. “It’s the writ granting the Inquisition authority. Riveting stuff.”

    Cullen chuckled softly, closing the door behind him. “You must have run out of other books in the library you broke into.”

    She shrugged, smiling faintly. “I was curious how one goes about starting an Inquisition. It’s surprisingly dull.”

    “It’s not meant to be exciting,” Cullen replied with a small smile, though it quickly faded. His expression grew more serious as he stepped further into the room.

    Ariana immediately noticed the shift in his demeanor. “Why do I feel like I’m in trouble?” she teased, though her tone carried an edge of concern.

    He sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not you. It’s… we’re having problems.”

    “What sort of problems?” she asked, sitting up straighter. Her tone shifted, calm and focused, as if bracing herself for whatever he was about to say.

    Cullen sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “The templars and mages are struggling to coexist. The Templars don’t trust them, and the mages… well, they don’t want Templars anywhere near them. There’s tension in the air, and I fear it’s only a matter of time before it boils over.”

    “What are you asking of me?” Ariana asked, her tone steady as she rested her hand on the writ she’d been reading earlier.

    “I don’t know,” he admitted, his frustration slipping into his voice. “This isn’t how things are meant to be. Templars are supposed to safeguard people, to protect mages from themselves—and others from magic. Without proper oversight…” He trailed off, his frown deepening.

    Ariana tilted her head, studying him carefully. “Proper oversight, or control?” she asked, her voice carrying a deliberate edge.

    Cullen looked at her sharply. “Spoken like someone who hasn’t lived in a Circle,” he said, his tone sharper than he intended.

    Ariana’s gaze hardened, and she straightened her posture. “You’re right—I didn’t live in a Circle. But I was in Kirkwall during the rebellion. I saw firsthand what happens when Templars let their fear spiral into unchecked control. Meredith wielded her authority like a weapon, Cullen. She turned the Gallows into a prison, not a refuge. She was as dangerous—if not more dangerous—than any blood mage I’ve ever encountered.”

    Cullen’s jaw tightened, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. “Meredith was trying to protect Kirkwall. The city was a powder keg. Without her, it would’ve burned long before the rebellion.”

    “She lit the fuse, Cullen!” Ariana shot back, her voice rising. “She hoarded power, ruled through fear, created desperation, and pitted people against each other. How is that any less dangerous than a blood mage summoning demons? Power unchecked is dangerous—no matter who wields it.”

    Cullen exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “And yet you ask me to trust mages—to let go of the safeguards that have kept people safe for centuries. You don’t understand the power they wield.”

    “Don’t I?” Ariana’s voice softened but didn’t lose its edge. She held his gaze firmly. “You were there, Cullen. You saw what Meredith’s unchecked power did. Would you stand by her again? Would you make the same choice?”

    His breath caught as her words hit home. His brows furrowed, and his gaze flicked away for a brief moment, conflicted. “I… No. I wouldn’t.”

    The room fell silent, her question hanging between them like a sharp blade. Cullen finally met her eyes again, his shoulders tense. “But you weren’t at the Circle Tower in Ferelden. You didn’t see what I saw. The demons didn’t kill me, Ariana,” he said after a long pause, his voice low and strained. “They… it’s not so easy to forget.”

    Ariana’s breath caught. He had never spoken about this. She had imagined, once, what it must have been like to survive what happened at Kinloch Hold. She’d assumed it was chaos, fear, maybe a desperate fight for survival. But the way he said it—the sharp edge in his voice, the way his gaze shifted as if searching for something he couldn’t find—it struck her like a blow. He had lived through something far worse than she had imagined. Yet, the man who stood before her, steadfast and resolute, bore no sign of the torment he must have endured. She had been so focused on her own pain, her own scars, that she hadn’t stopped to consider what Cullen carried beneath his calm, disciplined exterior.

    Ariana’s frown deepened, concern flickering across her face. “What are you saying Cullen?”

    “It doesn’t matter,” Cullen said quickly, shaking his head. “That’s not the point.”

    As he spoke, Ariana’s hand unconsciously drifted to her left forearm. Her fingers brushed over it, rubbing softly as if soothing an ache she couldn’t banish.

    “Cullen. I don’t expect you to trust blindly. I do understand more than you think. But one mage—one man—doesn’t justify mistreating all others,” she said, her voice quieter now but no less pointed. “I’ve seen what magic can do. I know the damage it can cause.”

    Cullen frowned, watching her closely. “What are you talking about?” he asked softly. “What did you see?”

    “It doesn’t matter,” she replied, her tone echoing his earlier dismissal. Her hand stilled briefly on her arm before resuming its motion. “That’s not the point.”

    “It matters to me,” Cullen pressed, stepping closer. “What happened—”

    “It’s not the point, Cullen,” she interrupted, her voice firmer this time. Her hand dropped to her side as she straightened, meeting his gaze again. “The point is that I’ve seen the worst of what mages can do. And I’ve also seen the best. They’re just like everyone else—some are good, some are bad. But I don’t condemn all Templars because I’ve run into one or two zealots.”

    Cullen hesitated, his frustration visible, but he held back. It seemeed her words struck a chord in him, forcing him to confront his own biases and the weight of his past choices.

    “If we can’t give them a chance,” Ariana said softly, her tone shifting. “If we can’t try to build something better—then what are we even fighting for?”

    Cullen looked away, as if struggling to reconcile her words with his own memories. Finally, he exhaled heavily. “You’re right. We’ve seen what fear and control can do. But that doesn’t make this easy.”

    “None of this is easy,” she said, a faint, tired smile tugging at her lips. “But I think we’re used to that by now.”

    Cullen chuckled softly, the tension in the air easing slightly. “That we are.”

    Ariana reached out, placing her hand over his. “Talk to the Rangers, Cullen,” she said. “We’ve had mages and Templars living together for years. Michael and Malcolm can help the Templars understand this new role. And Eshara and Cador can speak with the Grand Enchanter. They’ve been through so much—one a Dalish mage who’s never known Templar oversight, the other a Circle escapee—but they’ve all learned to trust each other.”

    Cullen blinked, visibly surprised. “That’s… a good idea,” he said, his voice laced with both relief and something close to embarrassment. “Thank you.”

    As he stood to leave, Ariana caught a flicker of something in his expression—gratitude, perhaps, or an unspoken apology for his earlier defensiveness. She reached for his hand, pulling him back for a moment. As he neared the edge of the bed again, she knelt in front of him, wrapping her arms around him “We’ll figure this out, I promise.” she said as she leaned in to kiss him.

    His hands settled on her waist, steadying her. When they parted, he held her gaze for a moment before nodding “Dinner, tonight?” he asked as his hand brushed her cheek.

    Ariana smiled, simply nodding her agreement. With that, Cullen turned around to leave.

    When the door closed behind him, she glanced at her forearm, the ache still lingering in her mind. For now, the path forward was clear, but she couldn’t ignore the scars—both visible and unseen—that she and Cullen carried.

    She just hoped that this time, they could carry them together.

    ~~~

    Cullen stepped out of Ariana’s quarters, his thoughts a tangled mess of worry and frustration. Her words lingered, cutting deeper with every repetition. “I’ve seen what magic can do. I know the damage it can cause.” The weight in her tone had been undeniable, but it was the way she’d rubbed her left forearm—fingers tracing the same spot over and over—that haunted him. Whatever pain she carried wasn’t just emotional; it was rooted in something far more tangible.

    As he walked through Haven, his gaze scanned the camp, his mind racing with questions. It wasn’t until he spotted Isabel by the training grounds, directing Rangers with her usual brisk efficiency, that he felt a faint flicker of clarity. If anyone knew what Ariana was hiding, it was Isabel.

    “Isabel,” he called, his tone clipped but steady.

    She turned, her green eyes narrowing slightly as she caught sight of his troubled expression. “Commander,” she replied, her voice calm but laced with curiosity. “What can I do for you?”

    Cullen crossed the distance between them, his jaw tight. “I need to ask you something about Ariana.”

    The faintest hint of tension flickered across Isabel’s face, though she masked it quickly. “What about her?”

    “She said something earlier,” he began, his voice low. “‘One mage—one man—doesn’t justify mistreating all others. I’ve seen what magic can do. I know the damage it can cause.’” He hesitated, searching her face for any sign of recognition. “She spoke like she’s lived it. Like she knows exactly what magic can do—and not just from observation.”

    Isabel’s lips pressed into a thin line, her arms crossing over her chest. “And you think I know what she meant.”

    “I do,” Cullen said, his tone firm. “You’ve been with her through everything. If anyone knows what she’s hiding, it’s you.”

    For a moment, Isabel’s gaze softened, but then she straightened, her posture defensive. “Do you remember the morning after you proposed?” she asked suddenly, her voice steady but pointed.

    The shift caught him off guard, but the memory came rushing back—the quiet joy of that morning tempered by Isabel’s cautious words. “I do,” he said slowly, his brow furrowing. “You told me she’d been through storms most wouldn’t survive.”

    “I did,” Isabel confirmed, her expression unreadable. “And I asked you if you could live with the knowledge that there were things you might never know about her—things she might never tell you.”

    Cullen’s frown deepened, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “That was years ago, Isabel. Things are different now. If she’s carrying something this heavy, don’t I have a right to know?”

    Isabel’s gaze hardened, her green eyes locking onto his. “Did you ever tell her about Kinloch Hold?”

    The question hit him like a blow, and he froze. His breath caught, and his gaze dropped to the ground. He hadn’t—not then, not now. Even minutes ago, when Ariana had asked directly, he had deflected. He exhaled heavily, guilt twisting in his chest.

    “That’s what I thought,” Isabel said, her voice quieter but no less firm. “You want answers, Cullen, but you’re not giving her the same.”

    He opened his mouth to argue but stopped, her words cutting too close to the truth. She was right—he’d held his own demons close, unwilling to let Ariana shoulder his burdens. How could he expect her to do any differently?

    “She was rubbing her left arm,” he said finally, his tone softer now. “Not the mark—something else. What happened to her?”

    Isabel’s expression faltered, the faintest flicker of pain crossing her face. “And you think asking me will help?” she said, her voice sharper now. “Do you think dragging it into the open will make it easier for her to carry?”

    “I’m not trying to push,” Cullen said, though his voice carried an edge of determination. “But she’s not fine, Isabel. I can see it.”

    “She’s not,” Isabel admitted, her voice dropping. For a moment, the mask slipped, and Cullen saw the weight of her own worry for Ariana. “She hasn’t been fine for a long time. But that’s not my story to tell, and it’s not yours to force out of her.”

    His frustration flared, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “And what if she never tells me? Isabel, you’re shaken just thinking about it. Whatever it is—it’s worse than I imagined, isn’t it?”

    Her silence spoke volumes. Isabel turned away, her jaw tightening as though struggling to keep her composure. When she finally looked back, her gaze was steady but filled with an emotion Cullen couldn’t quite name. “It is worse,” she said quietly. “But that doesn’t mean she’s ready to share it. And it doesn’t mean you’re ready to hear it.”

    Cullen took a step back, her words landing with the weight of a blow. “Why wouldn’t I be ready?”

    Isabel’s gaze softened slightly, a flicker of sympathy breaking through her defenses. “Because you’re carrying your own scars, Cullen. Scars you haven’t told her about. If you want her to trust you with hers, you need to be willing to share yours.”

    Her words hit home, and Cullen’s shoulders sagged. He let out a slow breath, running a hand through his hair. He hated how right she was. He hated that his own silence had set the precedent for theirs.

    “Be patient with her,” Isabel said, her voice gentler now. “She’s carrying more than you know. And I suspect… you’ll understand her better than anyone. But only if you’re willing to meet her halfway.”

    Cullen nodded slowly, the knot in his chest tightening further. “I just want to protect her.”

    “I know,” Isabel said softly, her voice tinged with a sadness that mirrored his own. “But sometimes, protecting someone means letting them come to you in their own time.”

    She turned and walked away, her braid swaying behind her. Cullen watched her go, the weight of her words settling over him. He stood there for a long moment, the crisp Haven air biting against his skin, but it did little to quell the storm inside him.

    As he made his way back toward the war room, her final words echoed in his mind. Meet her halfway.

    He clenched his jaw, resolve hardening in his chest. If Ariana was carrying secrets, then so was he. If he wanted to break down the walls between them, it would mean tearing down his own first.

    And yet, the questions lingered, gnawing at him. What happened to her? And when would she finally let him in?

    ~~~

    Isabel strode into Ariana’s quarters without knocking, the door swinging open with enough force to send a faint breeze through the room. Ariana, seated cross-legged on her bed with a book resting on her knees, looked up sharply, startled by the abrupt entrance.

    “Maker, Ariana,” Isabel began, her voice sharp as she shut the door firmly behind her. “What did you do?”

    Ariana frowned, closing the book and setting it aside. “What are you talking about?”

    “Cullen,” Isabel hissed, her arms crossing tightly over her chest. Her green eyes flashed with frustration as she stepped closer. “What did you say to him? How did you manage to bring Krieger into a conversation?”

    Ariana blinked, caught off guard. “I didn’t,” she said, shaking her head firmly. “Why would I—what makes you think I did?”

    Isabel’s jaw tightened, more from unease than anger. “Cullen asked me about your arm,” she said, her voice lowering. “Your arm, Ariana. He said you made some comment about mages, about knowing what magic can do, and you were rubbing it the entire time. You think he wouldn’t notice that?”

    Ariana’s brows furrowed as confusion flickered across her face. “I… was?” She hesitated, her voice quieter. “He… noticed that?”

    “Of course he did,” Isabel snapped, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “It’s Cullen. If it’s about you, he’ll always notice.”

    Ariana opened her mouth to respond but faltered, the weight of Isabel’s words sinking in. Her frown deepened. “I wasn’t trying to bring that up,” she said after a moment, her voice defensive. “The conversation was about templars and mages—it just… happened. I didn’t think he’d pay attention to something so…”

    “So significant,” Isabel finished, her tone biting. “Because it is significant, Ariana. Maker’s breath, you’re still doing it. The same thing you’ve always done—dodging, deflecting, and hoping no one connects the dots. But Cullen’s not a fool, and you’re making it impossible for him to ignore.”

    Ariana stood, her posture rigid as she met Isabel’s glare head-on. “I’m not doing anything,” she retorted, her tone clipped. “Cullen knows more about me than anyone ever will. But this? This is mine, Isabel. It’s my burden, and he doesn’t need to carry it.”

    “Yours?” Isabel repeated incredulously, stepping closer, her voice rising. “You’re not the only one carrying this, Ariana. The Vanguard carries this secret for you. I carry this secret for you. We all protect the knowledge of what happened like our lives depend on it. And yet here you are, carrying it into everything you do—into conversations with Cullen, into the way you move, into how you look at that arm. And you think you can just bury it forever?”

    “Yes,” Ariana snapped, her voice sharp. “I’ve done it for years, and I’ll keep doing it. And don’t you dare tell me what I can or can’t carry.”

    Isabel’s eyes darkened, frustration simmering beneath her usually calm exterior. “You think not talking about it means it’s gone? That burying it means you’ve won?”

    “I’ve survived,” Ariana shot back, her voice rising with each word. “That’s all that matters.”

    Isabel’s expression softened for a brief moment, though her voice remained steady and unyielding. “You’ve survived, yes. But you haven’t healed.”

    The words struck like a blow. Ariana looked away, her jaw tightening. “I don’t need to heal,” she said quietly, though her voice carried a steel edge. “I need to fight. That’s all that matters.”

    “And when the fight is over?” Isabel asked, her voice gentler now but no less insistent. “What then? What will you do when you can’t distract yourself with the next battle, the next mission? Do you think this will just disappear?”

    Ariana’s hands clenched at her sides. “I can’t tell him,” she said, her voice taut with emotion. “You know what he’d do. He’d blame himself. He’d think if we hadn’t been separated during the Blight, he could’ve stopped it—that it’s his fault. And I won’t let him carry that. Not for this. Not for me.”

    Isabel exhaled, her green eyes softening as she studied Ariana’s face. “And you don’t think he deserves the chance to decide that for himself? To be there for you, like you’ve been there for him?”

    “No,” Ariana replied simply, her voice resolute. “Not for this. He has enough on his shoulders already. I won’t add to it.”

    Isabel sighed, her frustration giving way to a weary sadness. “For what it’s worth,” she said quietly, “I think Cullen is probably the only person who would truly understand what you went through. But he can’t understand if you don’t let him in.”

    Ariana didn’t reply, her gaze locked on the floor as her thoughts churned.

    Isabel took a step toward the door, her hand resting on the handle. She hesitated, glancing back over her shoulder. Her voice softened, carrying a mix of resignation and hope. “Cullen loves you, Ariana. More than anything. I think he’s stronger than you give him credit for.”

    With that, Isabel opened the door and slipped out, leaving Ariana alone with her storm of emotions. For a long moment, she stood motionless in the center of the room, her hands trembling faintly at her sides.

    Her gaze drifted to her left forearm, the ache there so familiar it felt like part of her. She pressed her hand against it, her touch light but lingering, as though trying to soothe an old wound. Isabel’s words echoed in her mind, intertwining with her own doubts.

    “I can’t,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Not yet.”

    But as the door clicked shut behind Isabel, doubt crept in, insistent and unrelenting. For the first time in years, she wondered if burying the past was truly enough—or if it was finally time to face it.

    ~~~

    Cullen lay on his bed, staring at the darkened ceiling of his quarters. The steady crackle of the hearth filled the room, its faint warmth doing little to ease the chill settling in his chest. Sleep hovered just out of reach, elusive and mocking, as his thoughts churned endlessly.

    Her nightmares.

    The memory surfaced sharply, cutting through the haze of exhaustion. It wasn’t something he often thought about—not beyond concern for her well-being. The nightmares weren’t frequent, but the few times he’d been there to witness them, they were always the same. She’d wake suddenly, her breath quick and shallow, her eyes wide with disorientation and fear. And she’d rub her left arm as if trying to soothe some invisible pain.

    At the time, he’d assumed the cause was the Blight—the horrors she had survived at such a young age. That explanation had seemed logical, obvious. But tonight, after their earlier conversation and Isabel’s pointed reminder, doubt clawed at his mind. He couldn’t ignore it anymore.

    It wasn’t the Blight.

    He sat up slowly, running a hand through his hair, the tension in his chest tightening. Her words earlier had been deliberate, her tone laced with something he hadn’t quite been able to name. When she spoke of mages and magic—of the damage it could cause—there had been a weight behind it, one that didn’t come from secondhand stories or distant observations.

    She wasn’t talking about someone else. She was talking about herself.

    The realization hit him like a hammer. Cullen frowned deeply, his brow furrowing as he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. He thought back to the times she had redirected the subject, deflected his questions, or brushed off his concerns. At the time, he’d accepted her reluctance, assuming she would tell him when she was ready.

    Now, he couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling that he had missed something vital—that he hadn’t asked the right questions or pressed hard enough when she needed him to.

    His mind replayed the memory of her rubbing her arm during their conversation earlier. What happened to her arm? It had nothing to do with the mark. This had been happening for years.

    The image of her doing the same thing after waking from her nightmares resurfaced, sharper and more vivid. He’d comforted her in those moments, holding her close and whispering reassurances. But he had never pressed her to explain. Why hadn’t he seen it before?

    Cullen exhaled sharply, his hands clasping together tightly. Why didn’t she tell me?

    The answer came swiftly, settling heavily in his chest. She hadn’t told him because she didn’t want to burden him. Ariana had always carried so much on her own, never wanting to share the weight of her pain with anyone else. Perhaps she thought she was protecting him. Perhaps she didn’t trust herself to relive whatever haunted her.

    But that didn’t make it easier to accept.

    He pushed himself to his feet, pacing the small space of his quarters as his thoughts spiraled. She trusted him—he knew that. Yet there was a wall between them, built brick by brick from years of secrets, scars, and unspoken truths.

    Whatever she’s hiding, it isn’t just hurting her—it’s isolating her.

    The thought of her facing it alone twisted something inside him. He’d seen the strength she carried, the way she pushed forward despite everything. But no one—not even Ariana—could endure forever without breaking.

    Tomorrow, they would face the Breach. The stakes had never been higher, and there was no room for distraction. But tonight, his mind and heart remained fixed on her—on the pain she carried and the truth she refused to share.

    Cullen clenched his fists, his resolve hardening. I’ll find a way to help her, even if she doesn’t let me in. I won’t let her carry this alone any longer.

    He returned to the bed, though sleep felt further away than ever. As he lay back down, staring at the flickering shadows cast by the fire, the ache in his chest lingered—a reminder that some battles were fought not with swords, but with patience and love.

    And this was a battle he would not lose.

    ~~~

    Ariana lay curled under the blankets in her quarters, the faint light of a candle casting long shadows across the walls. Her fingers traced absent patterns along the edge of the quilt, her thoughts spiraling into places she had long avoided. Tonight, she couldn’t push them away.

    It had been years since she’d let herself truly think about Krieger. She told herself she’d buried it, locked it behind walls stronger than any fortress. But tonight, Cullen’s words and Isabel’s confrontation had shifted something. Cracks had formed, and the memories seeped through.

    Her left arm ached faintly, the pain not real but remembered. She flexed her fingers, but the phantom sensation lingered. She could still feel the cold of that night, the bite of the winter air on her exposed skin, the ropes cutting into her wrists as she was bound to the post in the center of the camp.

    “You think you’re strong.”

    Krieger’s voice slithered through her mind, as chilling as it had been then. His calculated cruelty, his relentless determination to break her, had burned itself into her memory. She could see his piercing blue eyes, devoid of mercy, as he pressed the blade to her arm. She hadn’t made a sound. Not then. Not ever.

    The cold fire of humiliation burned hotter than the frost on her skin. Dragged into the center of the camp, her dignity stripped away, she had been made a spectacle. A warning. She had refused to look away, to give him the satisfaction of seeing her falter, but it had cost her. Every night, he reopened the wounds, whispering incantations that set her blood alight, warping her body and soul with his twisted magic.

    Her hand drifted unconsciously to her forearm, rubbing it gently. The scars were long gone, but the phantom pain lingered. The worst part wasn’t the memory of the physical torment or even the humiliation. It was the helplessness—the gnawing, all-consuming feeling of powerlessness. She hated how it still crept into her mind, undermining the person she had worked so hard to become.

    She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the memories to fade. But the harder she tried to push them away, the more vivid they became. The sound of her own ragged breathing, the glow of the blood magic binding her, the searing heat that left her writhing against the ropes. And worst of all, the silence that followed.

    The silence that told her she was alone.

    No.

    Her fingers gripped the quilt tightly, her knuckles whitening. She’d refused to break then, and she wouldn’t let it break her now. She had survived. She had walked away, not him. That was her victory. Her defiance.

    But Cullen’s words haunted her as much as the memory itself. “What are you talking about? What did you see?”

    She’d brushed him off, deflected as she always did, but he had seen her. Truly seen her in a way no one else ever had. He had noticed the way she rubbed her arm, the way her words carried a weight she hadn’t intended to reveal. And now, he was asking questions she wasn’t sure she could answer.

    Because if Cullen ever learned the truth—what Krieger had done, what she had endured—he would blame himself. He would take it on as his failure, his guilt. And he didn’t deserve that. She wouldn’t let him carry the weight of something that wasn’t his burden to bear.

    It was my mistake. My burden. Not his.

    Her breathing slowed as she repeated the thought like a mantra. She had survived. She had endured. And she had walked away with her dignity intact. That was all that mattered.

    But a quiet voice in the back of her mind whispered a different truth.

    You haven’t walked away from it, not really.

    Her chest tightened as her hand moved to her forearm again, the ache still there, as if her body refused to let her forget. Survival had been her focus, her purpose for so long, that she hadn’t stopped to consider what came after. She had become the White Wolf, built the Silver Rangers, fought for mages, for innocents, for everything Krieger had sought to destroy. Yet, the ghost of his voice lingered in her mind, his presence a shadow she could never fully escape.

    Ariana exhaled shakily, her thoughts shifting to Cullen. He would want to know. He would insist on knowing. And if she told him, his first instinct would be to blame himself. He’d convince himself that if they hadn’t been separated during the Blight, he could have stopped it—that it was his fault she had suffered. She couldn’t let him bear that.

    But there was another fear, one she hated to admit. Cullen’s trust in mages was fragile, the scars of Kinloch Hold and Kirkwall still fresh in his mind. If he learned what Krieger had done, what he had been capable of, would it push Cullen further into that distrust? Would it undo the progress he had made—the trust he had placed in her and in their alliance?

    The thought left her cold. She couldn’t take that risk.

    Her hand stilled against her arm as her gaze drifted to the flickering candlelight. Tomorrow, they would face the Breach. The stakes had never been higher, and she had every intention of seeing it through. But a part of her wondered if this was it—if tomorrow would be her end.

    If I fall… then none of this will matter. The thought was both freeing and suffocating. The weight of what she carried wouldn’t have to be passed on, wouldn’t hurt Cullen or anyone else. But the guilt of not telling him, of not giving him the truth before it was too late, gnawed at her.

    As she lay staring at the shadows on the walls, her resolve wavered. She had survived Krieger, survived the Blight, survived every battle and betrayal that had come her way. But survival wasn’t the same as healing. And for the first time in years, she wondered if that was truly within reach.

    Her eyes closed as sleep finally pulled her under, her last thought a fragile plea.

    Please, let tomorrow be enough.

  • Chapter 69 – Tomorrow Can Wait

    16 – 18 Bloomingtide 9:41

    In Haven, Leliana, Josephine, and Cullen stood around the war room table, the air tense with unspoken concerns. The arrival of a scout interrupted their deliberations. 

    “The Herald has been spotted in the pass,” the scout reported. “She’s alone.” 

    Cullen’s posture stiffened immediately, his eyes narrowing. “Alone?” he repeated, his voice sharp. 

    The scout nodded. “Yes, Commander. What few reports we’ve received indicate she’s been riding faster than most scouts, barely stopping along the way.” 

    The three exchanged uneasy glances. 

    “Is something amiss?” Cullen pressed, his tone more forceful. 

    “We’re not certain, sir. The only reports we’ve had are from messenger birds stating she left Redcliffe. Her party stayed behind to escort the mages. She was already a day ahead of them when they sent the last message,” the scout explained. 

    “How far is she now?” Leliana asked, her expression unreadable, though her voice betrayed her own growing concern. 

    “Not far,” the scout replied. “She should reach Haven within the hour.” 

    Leliana nodded, dismissing the scout with a murmured thanks before turning to Josephine and Cullen. “The journey from Redcliffe to Haven typically takes four or five days. Our reports said she left two days ago.” 

    “Which means she’s ridden hard the entire way,” Josephine concluded, her brows knitting in worry. “Likely hasn’t slept much, if at all.” 

    “Could something have gone wrong?” Leliana asked quietly, voicing the question they all silently shared. 

    Cullen barely heard her. His thoughts were already spiraling. Why is she alone? Why isn’t her party with her? Is she injured? What could have happened to make her ride like this?

    He clenched his fists, forcing himself to focus. If she were seriously hurt, she wouldn’t be able to keep this pace. She wouldn’t make it here. It was a thin reassurance, one that did little to ease the tightness in his chest. 

    Without a word, Cullen turned on his heel and strode out of the war room, the faint clinking of his armor the only sound in the quiet hall. 

    “Where are you going?” Leliana called after him. 

    “To meet her,” Cullen replied curtly, not breaking stride. 

    He made his way to the gates, his heart pounding with a mixture of fear and anticipation. The road stretched out before him, winding into the distant mountains. He could see no movement yet, but he stood firm, his eyes fixed on the horizon. 

    The minutes dragged on, each one feeling longer than the last. Why is she riding alone? What could have happened in Redcliffe?

    Memories of their last conversation in the war room came rushing back to him. The words he’d spoken—their unintended sting—echoed in his mind. I won’t allow us to lose the only means we have of closing the rifts. The hurt in her eyes, her sharp retort, her deliberate distance before she left… 

    Cullen’s jaw tightened. He couldn’t help but wonder if she was angry, if her relentless pace was fueled by more than just urgency. He had seen her resolve, her fire, but never like this. 

    His hand rested on the hilt of his sword as he continued to watch the road. Whatever had happened, whatever burden she carried, he would be the first to hear it. 

    And Maker help anyone who had dared to harm her. 

    ~~~

    Ariana’s horse galloped through the pass as the guards opened the gates without hesitation, allowing her to ride straight through. The sound of hoofbeats echoed through Haven.

    As her horse slowed near the training grounds. She barely waited for it to stop before dismounting, her boots crunching against the snow. Grabbing the reins, she thrust them into the hands of a startled soldier. “Take care of him,” she said tersely, not even glancing at who it was. 

    And then she turned towards Cullen, her eyes finding his.

    Cullen stood near the stairs by the gate, his arms were crossed. He watched her as she held his gaze, he could see her breaths were heavy, ragged and her expression was one of relief mixed with worry or disbelief.

    His heart clenched at the sight of her. There was a vulnerability that hadn’t been there before. She took a few tentative steps towards him before she broke out into a sprint.

    Cullen barely had time to react before she threw her arms around his neck, clinging to him as though he might disappear if she let go. Her face buried in his shoulder, and she whispered, “You’re alive…” 

    Her voice was quiet, but the intensity of her relief sent a ripple of silence through the training grounds. Soldiers and workers paused, exchanging curious glances. 

    Cullen’s arms came up instinctively, steadying her as she trembled against him. “Of course, I’m alive,” he said softly, his thoughts a mixture of confusion and concern. “Ari, what’s—” 

    She tightened her grip, cutting him off. Cullen could sense that whatever this was, whatever had happened it had pushed her to a breaking point.

    He tried to set her down gently, but her body stiffened. A soft, broken sound escaped her lips, and his worry deepened. 

    “Ari…” Cullen murmured, his tone both firm and tender. “Come. Walk with me.” 

    She shook her head against his shoulder, her hands clutching his armor as though it were the only thing keeping her upright. 

    Cullen sighed quietly, his resolve hardening. Sliding his arms under her legs, he lifted her. Ariana didn’t protest, instead wrapping her legs around him. Her weight was nothing compared to the heaviness of her distress. He held her close, ignoring the whispers and stares of the onlookers. Let them talk. Right now, all that mattered was her. 

    As Cullen carried her toward her quarters, Isabel appeared, her expression shifting from surprise to quiet understanding. Without a word, she moved ahead to open the door for him. 

    “Thank you,” Cullen said simply, nodding to Isabel as he stepped inside. 

    Isabel lingered just long enough to ensure everything was in order before turning back toward the gates. When curious soldiers approached her, she raised a hand to silence them. “It’s fine,” she said firmly, her tone brooking no argument. “She’s back. That’s all you need to know. Now get back to work.” 

    Inside Ariana’s quarters, Cullen kicked the door shut behind him. She still clung to him, her face pressed against his neck. He crossed the room to her bed and sat down, settling her on his lap with her legs draped on either side of him, her arms still tight around his neck. 

    “Ari,” he said gently, his hand moving to stroke her hair in a soothing rhythm. “Are you going to tell me what happened?” 

    “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her voice cracking. 

    “For what?” he asked, his concern deepening. 

    “For leaving the way I did. For failing. For everything that could happen… will happen if I fail,” she choked out. Her words were fragmented, her emotions too raw to form coherent sentences. 

    Cullen’s brows furrowed as he tried to piece together her meaning. “You mean when you left for Redcliffe?” 

    She nodded against him, her grip loosening slightly. Slowly, he pulled back just enough to see her face. Her eyes were red and swollen, her expression haunted. 

    His heart ached at the sight of her. “Ari…” he said softly, his voice filled with both worry and resolve. “Whatever it is, I’m here.” 

    She held his gaze for a moment, her eyes swimming with unshed tears. But in that moment, some of the weight she carried seemed to lift. 

    Cullen gently brushed his hand against Ariana’s cheek, his voice soft and steady. “Come, let’s get you out of these clothes and settled. You can tell me everything when you’re ready.” His fingers lingered for just a moment, their warmth grounding him as much as it seemed to ground her. All that mattered now was easing the storm in her eyes.

    Ariana didn’t respond with words. Instead, she undid the clasp of her cloak with one hand, letting it fall to the floor beside the bed. One by one, she began removing her layers—the sash, gloves, coat, and vest—each discarded with methodical precision. Cullen watched her closely, his worry deepening as he noticed the subtle tremor in her hands, the way her fingers fumbled for just a moment before finding their rhythm. Her breaths were shallow, uneven, as though she were trying to will herself to stay in control.

    She didn’t move from his lap, and he didn’t ask her to. He let her work through the motions, hoping the familiar routine might steady her thoughts. When she reached for the clasps of his armor, her movements slowed, deliberate but almost automatic. Cullen sat still, allowing her to continue, though his heart ached at the quiet desperation in her expression.

    Piece by piece, his armor joined her discarded clothing on the floor—the pauldron, gloves, chest plate—all undone by her careful, trembling hands. Her touch lingered briefly on the belt holding his sword, her fingers brushing the hilt before setting it aside with the same measured care. She leaned into him as she worked, her breaths gradually evening out, though the tension in her body hadn’t fully eased.

    When she finished, she buried her face against his shoulder again, silent but holding onto him as though he were the only thing tethering her to the world. Cullen hesitated, then spoke in a gentle, slightly playful tone. “Do you know how scandalous the rumors will be by morning…?”

    Ariana let out a small, soft laugh—a sound so brief and faint that it almost broke Cullen’s heart. But it was enough to ease the tightness in his chest, even if just for a moment. At least she was still with him, still fighting her way back.

    “You don’t have to apologize for the other day, Ari,” Cullen said, his hands resting lightly on her waist. “It wasn’t anything worth thinking about. I know you well enough to know you were… being you.” He chuckled softly, trying to coax her further from the dark place her mind had taken her.

    But instead of laughing, she pulled back just enough to look at him. Her hazel-green eyes, glassy with unshed tears, locked onto his, her vulnerability laid bare. “But what if that had been the last time I ever saw you?” she whispered, her voice trembling.

    Cullen’s breath caught in his throat. Her words carried a weight that struck him harder than he expected. “What do you mean?” he asked gently, tilting his head to study her face, searching for answers in her expression.

    “Because it happened,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “And despite knowing it was a lost cause, you laid siege to Redcliffe Castle… and lost.”

    Her words hit him like a blow. Cullen’s mind raced, trying to piece together what she was saying. What is she talking about? He hadn’t ordered any siege of Redcliffe. He hadn’t done anything to warrant the haunted look in her eyes.

    “Ari,” he said cautiously, his tone low and soothing, “what are you saying?”

    She didn’t answer, but he could feel her trembling against him, her breaths hitching unevenly. Cullen tightened his arms around her, his own heart racing now. He needed to pull her out of this spiral before it consumed her completely.

    Without hesitation, he shifted his grip, one arm securing her waist, the other supporting her legs, and he moved. In a smooth, deliberate motion, he lowered her onto the bed, leaning over her as she lay beneath him.

    Her breath caught, startled by the sudden movement, her wide eyes meeting his. For a moment, she froze, her expression a mixture of confusion and surprise. Cullen held her gaze, letting her see the depth of his care, his steady presence grounding her.

    “I am right here with you, Ari,” Cullen said firmly, his voice low but resolute. “Since you left for Redcliffe, nothing has happened here. I’ve spent most days between the training grounds and the war room, reading reports. I have not ordered a siege of Redcliffe Castle or anything else for that matter.”

    Her breathing slowed, her chest rising and falling beneath him. Cullen stayed still, unwilling to move until he saw the tension in her face begin to soften. Slowly, Ariana nodded, the glassy sheen in her eyes replaced by something steadier.

    But just as Cullen began to relax, she moved suddenly, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him into a kiss. It was desperate, fierce, and full of emotions too raw to name. Cullen froze for only a moment before responding, his lips meeting hers with equal intensity.

    For all his concern, for all the questions still unanswered, Cullen couldn’t deny the relief flooding through him. She was here, alive, in his arms. And right now, that was enough. All that mattered was her, and the fragile trust she placed in him to pull her back from the brink.

    ~~~

    Cullen’s lips lingered on hers, soft yet filled with unspoken emotions. Then, almost as suddenly as it had started, he pulled back slightly. His breath was warm against her skin as he brushed a thumb across her cheek, his free hand cradling her face with a tenderness that made her heart ache.

    “Ari…” His voice was low, hesitant, as if he couldn’t find the words he needed.

    Ariana leaned into his touch, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment before meeting his again. She kissed him once more, her hands slipping beneath the edge of his tunic, seeking the warmth of his skin. “I need you,” she whispered, her voice raw and pleading, every word laced with longing.

    Cullen caught her hand, his grip firm but not unkind, and she froze. “Ariana,” he began, his tone faltering. “This…” He stopped, the weight of his unspoken words hanging between them.

    The hesitation in his eyes sent Ariana’s mind spiraling. Had she been wrong? Her chest tightened, a hollow ache spreading through her as doubt crept in. Maybe he doesn’t want this anymore.

    Her thoughts raced through every moment since that night in Kirkwall—the night she had said goodbye. She hadn’t meant to leave him like that, hadn’t meant to hide. Now she knew he had been searching for her, for years. Could he be tired of waiting? Could he have finally moved on? She tried to blink back the tears welling in her eyes, but one escaped, tracing a cold line down her cheek.

    Ariana’s gaze flickered to his, searching for something—anything—that might reassure her. But the uncertainty she saw only deepened her fears. She started to turn away, unable to bear the weight of her doubt.

    Then Cullen’s lips found hers again. The kiss was softer this time, tentative, as though he were unsure of her reaction, but it carried no less passion. His hesitation melted the moment she responded, meeting him with equal fervor.

    Cullen’s hand released her wrist and instead found hers, intertwining their fingers. The calloused warmth of his touch steadied her, and she realized with a jolt that he wasn’t stopping her—he was reaching for her, too. His fingers brushed against her ring, and his gaze dropped to their joined hands.

    His breath hitched audibly. Ariana felt her chest tighten, not with doubt this time, but with a faint, trembling hope. He hasn’t forgotten.

    When his gaze lifted again, there was something unspoken in his eyes. An unasked question. His lips met hers, the kiss tender but full of promises she didn’t need words to understand. She clung to him, her free hand tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. The way he kissed her, the way he held her, spoke louder than any words could. He needed her just as much as she needed him. Every touch, every kiss, was a silent apology, a desperate plea for reassurance.

    “Cullen,” she murmured against his lips, her voice breaking slightly as her fingers traced his jawline. “I’m sorry, for everything.”

    Her words undid him. He pulled back just far enough to see her face, to take in the vulnerability etched into every line of her expression. Her hazel-green eyes glistened with unshed tears, her lips slightly parted, as though the weight of everything she carried would spill out if she spoke again.

    “Are you sure about this?” he asked softly, his voice a low rumble that seemed to ground her. His hands framed her face, his thumbs brushing the dampness beneath her eyes. “I don’t want this if it’s not—”

    Her breath caught, and for a moment, neither of them moved. His words hung in the air, unfinished but heavy with meaning. If it’s not forever. If it’s not us.

    “If it’s not real?” Ariana finished for him, her voice trembling but steady. She searched his eyes, her own gaze vulnerable, raw with emotion. “Cullen, it is. I swear to you, it is.”

    He exhaled sharply, his own composure fracturing as he kissed her again, deeper this time. Whatever hesitation he’d felt dissolved beneath the weight of her need, her whispered pleas, the way her body pressed against his as though seeking solace in his presence.

    Her fingers skimmed the edge of his tunic, sliding the fabric up until Cullen pulled away only long enough to take it off. Her touch was light, reverent, like she was memorizing the feel of him beneath her hands. “I thought I lost you,” she admitted in a shaky breath. “Cullen. I can’t—” Her voice cracked, and she buried her face against his neck, her tears warm against his skin.

    “You haven’t lost me,” he murmured, his lips brushing her temple. His voice was firm, steady—a promise. “You’ll never lose me.”

    Her tears came freely now, but they weren’t from sadness. They were from the overwhelming relief, the unburdening of everything she had held back for so long. She kissed him again, her hands roaming across his shoulders, his chest, reveling in the memories of so many other nights. Their kisses grew more urgent, more desperate. Each touch, each whispered word carried the weight of everything left unsaid—the years of separation, the doubts, the fears. Cullen’s hands roamed her back, grounding her even as her own hands tugged at his belt.

    Cullen’s hands moved with deliberate care, brushing against her arms and shoulders as he grasped the hem of her tunic. He paused briefly, his eyes searching hers for permission. When she gave a small nod, he began to lift the fabric, tugging it gently over her head, and tossing it to the floor without a second thought.

    As the soft light fell across her bare skin, Cullen’s gaze dropped to her torso. His fingers, brushing lightly against her side to steady her, suddenly froze. His breath hitched.

    Cullen’s gaze dropped to where his fingers rested, and his entire body tensed. The scar stood out starkly against her sun-kissed skin, a mark of his own blade from that night in Kirkwall. His stomach churned as the memory surged forward—the chaos of the battle, the way she had twisted away too late, the blood on his sword.

    His hand trembled as he brushed his fingertips over the scar, his expression twisting with guilt and something deeper—grief. “Maker…” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “I did this.”

    Ariana placed her hand over his, stilling his movement. “Cullen,” she said softly, her voice steady despite the weight of the moment. “It wasn’t your fault.”

    He looked up at her, his amber eyes searching hers for absolution. “I could have killed you,” he murmured, the words heavy with regret.

    “You didn’t,” she replied firmly, her fingers tightening around his. “And I’ve never blamed you for it. We were both fighting a battle I chose for us. Because I was too afraid to tell you the truth. If anyone is to blame, it’s me.”

    His brow furrowed, his gaze dropping to the scar again. “But this… it never should have happened.”

    Ariana cupped his face with her free hand, guiding his attention back to her. “We can’t change the past,” she said gently, her thumb brushing against his cheek. “But we’re here now. Together.”

    For a moment, he didn’t move, his hand still resting against her side, as if grounding himself in the reality of her presence. Then, with infinite care, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to the scar. The gesture was achingly tender, an unspoken apology and vow all in one.

    Ariana’s breath caught, her fingers tightening in his hair as tears welled in her eyes. She let out a shaky exhale, her heart swelling with a mix of relief and longing. “I love you,” she whispered, the words slipping free before she could second-guess them.

    Her whispered confession hung between them like a fragile thread.

    Cullen lifted his head to meet her gaze, his golden eyes shining with a depth of emotion she hadn’t seen in years. “And I love you,” he replied, his voice steady and certain, as though the words alone could erase every doubt and regret between them.

    The words seemed to unravel something in him, and he kissed her again, this time with a fervor that set her skin alight. His hands moved with purpose, peeling away the barriers between them until there was nothing left but bare skin and the raw intensity of their connection.

    Every touch was deliberate, every kiss a promise. He worshipped her with his hands, his lips, his voice—soft murmurs of her name and words of love that sent shivers through her. And she gave herself to him completely, her body arching beneath his, her hands roaming his back, his shoulders, the muscles taut beneath her fingertips.

    The hours stretched and blurred as they moved together, their bodies finding a rhythm that felt both instinctive and timeless. Ariana had never known anything like it—the way he held her, the way he seemed to know exactly what she needed before she did.

    Cullen’s touch was unyielding yet tender, his every movement a balance of strength and care. She felt as though he were holding her together, anchoring her to something solid even as the rest of the world threatened to fall away.

    As her voice broke on his name, raw and trembling with emotion, he kissed her deeply, as if to capture the sound and hold it close. When his own restraint finally shattered, his forehead rested against hers, and he murmured her name like a solemn vow. She wrapped her arms around him, holding him just as tightly, anchoring him as he had steadied her.

    By the time the first rays of dawn crept through the window, they lay tangled together beneath the covers, their bodies pressed close as their breathing slowed. Ariana rested her head against Cullen’s chest, her fingers tracing idle patterns along his skin as his hand brushed through her hair. Ariana couldn’t help but think of the nights they’d spent together before everything fell apart. The quiet mornings in Kirkwall, stolen moments between the chaos.

    Every moment spent in his arms felt like coming home—a home she had lost but never stopped yearning for. Now, with his heart beating steadily beneath her cheek, the world felt right again. No war, no shadows, just the two of them, tangled together as if nothing had ever come between them.

    “Are you alright?” Cullen asked softly as he pressed a kiss against her forehead.

    “Always,” she murmured, her voice soft and filled with a quiet vulnerability. “Whenever, I’m here with you… always.”

    Cullen’s arms tightened around her, his lips pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead. “You’re safe now, Ari.” he said, his voice rough but steady. “Whatever happened, I’m here with you.”

    Ariana smiled faintly, her eyes drifting closed as the warmth of his embrace lulled her into a rare, peaceful sleep. For the first time in what felt like forever, she felt whole again—cherished, protected, and utterly loved. And as the morning light crept across the bed, she knew she was never letting him go again.

    ~~~

    Ariana stirred awake, feeling the warmth of Cullen’s arms around her—a sensation she hadn’t felt in years. His hand rested over hers, his fingers brushing against her ring as though grounding her even in sleep. For a moment, the weight of the world lifted, and she felt safe. Secure. As if everything would be alright. A soft smile crossed her lips as she nestled closer to him, the steady rhythm of his breathing lulling her back to sleep.

    For years, she had pushed the memory of this feeling aside—safety, warmth, the quiet assurance of his presence. Yet now, here it was, as familiar as if no time had passed at all. How had she lived without it?

    Later, she was pulled back to wakefulness by the sound of Cullen shifting, trying to get out of bed. Without opening her eyes, she tightened her hold on him, not ready to let him go.

    He chuckled softly. “There’s still a lot of work to do, you know?” His tone was teasing, but she could hear the familiar edge of duty in his voice.

    “And you have an army of soldiers to do it,” she mumbled sleepily, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “Take all the Rangers in Haven too…”

    “Ari, I—” Cullen began, trying again to sit up, but she shifted, turning toward him and settling herself against his shoulder. Her arm wrapped around him as she drifted off again, her steady breaths brushing against his neck.

    Cullen sighed, smiling to himself. “Maker, you’re going to be the death of me,” he murmured, though he made no further attempt to move. Before long, he too fell back asleep.

    Later that morning, Isabel quietly entered Ariana’s quarters, carrying a pot of coffee. The sight of them both still asleep brought a smile to her face. Setting the pot down gently on the table, she left without a word, carefully closing the door behind her.

    It was the smell of coffee that finally coaxed Ariana awake. Her senses stirred as she blinked against the sunlight streaming into the room. Glancing over, she saw Cullen was still asleep, his features soft and peaceful in a way she rarely got to see.

    Climbing out of bed carefully so as not to disturb him, she looked around at the scattered clothes and armor on the floor. Finding her robe draped over a chair, she slipped it on and poured herself a cup of coffee. Settling into the chair by the fire, she let her gaze linger on Cullen for a moment. For the first time in days, she allowed herself to breathe. He’s here. He’s safe. We still have a chance.

    She picked up a book from the small stack on the table and began to read. It wasn’t long before she heard Cullen stir behind her.

    “Good morning,” he said, his voice still heavy with sleep.

    Ariana looked up from her book, a smile lighting her face. “Good morning. You’re awake…”

    Cullen chuckled softly. “Were you waiting for me to be?”

    “Not really,” she replied, a playful glint in her eye. “Though I do try to be quiet when you’re still asleep.”

    The words left her mouth naturally, as if they were an everyday occurrence. It wasn’t until she saw Cullen’s amused smile that she realized how unguarded the comment was. It had been years since she’d had reason to think like that, yet this morning, it felt second nature again.

    He laughed lightly, shaking his head. “I suppose old habits die hard.”

    Getting out of bed, Cullen reached for the coffee she poured for him, settling across from her. As he sat down, he watched her over the rim of his cup, thinking how easily they had fallen back into this rhythm. It felt both comforting and fragile, as though it might shatter if either of them spoke too loudly.

    For a while, they sat in companionable silence. But Cullen’s worry, ever-present beneath the surface, gnawed at him. Setting his cup down, he broke the quiet.

    “Ari,” he began, his tone cautious but firm, “what happened in Redcliffe?”

    The question startled her, breaking the peace of the morning. The night before, she had allowed herself to let go of what she’d seen, losing herself in the safety of his arms. Now, with the question laid bare before her, the memories rushed back, jagged and raw.

    She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath before turning to look at him again. Her hands trembled slightly as she set her coffee down, fingers curling tightly around the edge of the chair. Finally, Ariana began to speak, quietly at first, testing the words in her mouth to see if she could relive it without breaking down.

    She told him everything. What happened when they arrived at Redcliffe Castle, how their plan seemed flawless at first, the Venatori scouts, Alexius’s attempt to erase her from time, and Dorian’s counterspell that had sent them into a horrific future. She described the fate of the Templar Order, the horrors of red lyrium, the devastation of Haven, Leliana’s transformation, and—finally—how she had learned of his own tragic end in that dark timeline.

    Cullen stood, closing the distance between them and crouching in front of her. His hands covered hers, his grip tightening whenever her voice faltered. He listened without interruption, his fingers brushing against hers as though silently offering her strength.

    When she finished, her voice faltered. “I can’t let that happen. I won’t let that happen.”

    “You are not alone in this, Ari,” Cullen said, his voice steady and resolute. “If that future comes for us, it will find me standing in its way.”

    Ariana smiled despite everything, simply nodding. He’s safe. I haven’t lost him. I won’t lose him.

    The sunlight filtering through the room felt warmer now, a quiet promise of what they could still fight for together.

    ~~~

    The rest of the morning passed in easy conversation, some of it touching on the dark future Ariana had seen. With each passing moment, she seemed more herself—calm, collected, her sharp mind piecing together every detail of what had happened and what needed to be done. Cullen couldn’t help but admire her resilience, though his focus remained on ensuring she didn’t carry it alone.

    A sudden knock at the door startled them both. Ariana stood, opening it while keeping Cullen out of sight. A soldier stood on the other side, his posture straight but his expression faintly nervous as he held out a small bouquet of jasmines and lilacs.

    “From the Commander, my Lady,” the soldier said softly, bowing his head slightly before walking away.

    Ariana closed the door, turning back toward Cullen with an amused look as she held up the flowers. “It seems you got me flowers,” she said, her tone playful and knowing, a teasing glint in her eye.

    Cullen raised an eyebrow, clearly taken aback. “What?”

    Her grin widened, her voice laced with mock accusation. “Weren’t you supposed to tell me if there was anything important I needed to know? Like the sudden appearance of romantic gestures?”

    “Maker help me,” he muttered, shaking his head with a laugh. Though, if he were honest, that soldier was about to get a promotion. The sight of Ariana’s unguarded smile, the way her laughter lit up the room, made everything worthwhile. How long has it been since she smiled like that?

    “Do you like them?” Cullen asked, watching as she leaned in to breathe in their delicate fragrance.

    She looked up at him, her smile soft but teasing. “Why? Are you saying you did send them?”

    Cullen laughed, running a hand through his hair. “Unfortunately, I can’t take credit this time. But I won’t begrudge the soldiers for getting you flowers—especially if they make you happy.”

    Ariana chuckled, setting the bouquet down carefully on the table. “I’ll have to thank whoever it was later. But for now…” Her eyes sparkled mischievously as she turned back to him. “I’m keeping them.”

    “As you should,” he said warmly, leaning back in his chair. He couldn’t help but feel a quiet pride that his men—his army—had taken it upon themselves to make her feel cared for. It struck him then: for once, he could truly give her everything she deserved. Not just his love, but the support of an entire force dedicated to ensuring her well-being. The thought filled him with a sense of certainty he hadn’t felt in years. Maybe, just maybe, he could be exactly the man she needed.

    Cullen allowed Ariana to set the pace of their day. They talked, read, and even played a few hands of cards. Ariana was playful, her wit sharp as ever, and Cullen found himself grinning more than he had in months. Watching her now, laughing softly at a particularly terrible hand of cards, he realized just how rare it was to see her like this—unguarded, at peace. The weight of her burdens seemed lighter, if only for a time.

    When Ariana’s gaze drifted to the small chessboard on the table, Cullen caught the slight curve of her lips before she even spoke.

    “Chess?” she asked, her tone light, though he could hear the teasing challenge beneath it. She began setting up the pieces without waiting for a response. “One of these days, Cullen, I’m going to win.”

    He chuckled softly, crossing the room to join her. “Maker knows, Ari, I’d love to see it. But today won’t be that day.”

    Her smirk widened, and he couldn’t help but smile in return. There was something so effortlessly familiar about this—a glimpse of the afternoons they’d spent together in Kirkwall, tucked away in fleeting moments of normalcy amid the chaos. How often had they sat like this, the board between them, her head bent in concentration as she plotted her next move? It had always been the same—her bold, reckless strategies clashing against his measured precision.

    Yet, watching her now, Cullen felt a pang of regret. He should have fought harder to hold on to this, to her. He should never have let her leave that night in Kirkwall, should have stopped her instead of letting anger and pride get in the way. But at least she was here now. His again, as she had always been.

    Your betrothed will need you in the days to come. The Divine’s words echoed in his mind again. Had she known something was going to go wrong? Had she expected the Conclave to fail? And why had she brought Ariana, what role had she expected her to play?

    “You know,” Ariana said, breaking through his thoughts as she moved her first pawn, “just once, I’d like to see you actually struggle.”

    The game began as it always did: her bold opening moves setting an aggressive pace while Cullen carefully picked apart her strategy. She leaned forward in concentration, her chin resting on her hand as she studied the board, her eyes flicking between pieces. She wasn’t bad—far from it. Her intuition was sharp, and she could think several moves ahead. But Cullen had spent years honing his craft, and his patient, methodical approach outmatched her impulsive daring every time.

    Still, she didn’t let frustration show. “How is it,” she said after losing yet another piece, “that you make it look so easy?”

    “You know the answer to that,” Cullen replied, moving his knight into position with almost lazy precision. “You have Mia to thank for this. Or rather Mia’s stuck-up grin whenever she won.”

    Ariana shook her head, but she was smiling. She made her next move—a surprisingly clever feint—but Cullen countered it within seconds. Her brow furrowed, and he could tell she was replaying the sequence in her head, trying to figure out where she had gone wrong.

    It reminded him of the early days in Kirkwall, how fiercely she had thrown herself into every game, even knowing she would lose. She never gave up, though, and that determination was one of the many things he admired about her. Even now, as the game inevitably turned in his favor, she didn’t look defeated. If anything, she seemed amused, as though the act of challenging him was more enjoyable than the thought of winning.

    When he finally declared, “Checkmate,” her expression shifted briefly to mock irritation before she laughed, leaning back with a groan.

    “One day,” she said, shaking her head. “I’ll find a way to beat you.”

    “Perhaps,” Cullen said, his tone teasing, though his smile softened. “But not today.”

    The warmth in his voice silenced her playful retort, and for a moment, they simply held each other’s gaze.

    As the evening settled in, they found themselves back on the bed, Ariana propped against Cullen’s shoulder with a blanket draped loosely around them. He held an old, well-worn book in his hands, his deep voice filling the quiet room as he read aloud.

    She closed her eyes, letting the cadence of his words wash over her. The sound was soothing, grounding, a balm against the weight of everything she had seen. His hand rested lightly against her shoulder, a steadying presence she hadn’t realized how much she needed.

    When Cullen glanced down, he noticed her breathing had evened out. Her head rested against him, her body relaxed, her expression unguarded in a way he had rarely seen since he found her again. He paused, savoring the moment.

    Carefully, he set the book aside and adjusted the blanket to cover her more fully. His fingers brushed against her hair, a quiet gesture of affection, and he leaned down to press a soft kiss against her temple.

    “Rest, Ari,” he murmured. “Tomorrow can wait.”

    With her warmth against him and her steady breathing filling the quiet space, Cullen closed his eyes. The weight of the future hadn’t vanished, but for the first time in years, it felt bearable. She was here—safe, loved, and his. And that, for tonight, was enough.

    ~~~

    Cassandra, Dorian, and Solas arrived at Haven the following day, leading the remnants of the mage rebellion. The group was a somber sight, the mages walking in silence, their faces marked by exhaustion and uncertainty.

    Without hesitation, Cassandra headed for the Chantry. Inside, Leliana and Josephine were deep in conversation over a growing pile of reports.

    “Welcome back, Seeker,” Leliana greeted, though her expression was grim. She gestured to the reports in front of them. “We’ve received troubling intelligence, but I suspect you have news of your own.”

    Cassandra nodded curtly, her sharp gaze sweeping the room. “Where is Commander Cullen?”

    “With the Herald,” Josephine replied, her tone careful. “She returned a few days ago, but… she was not herself. Whatever happened in Redcliffe left its mark.”

    “And the Commander has been with her,” Leliana added softly. “He’s worried, understandably so. She arrived in quite a state.”

    Cassandra’s frown deepened. From Dorian’s accounts during their journey, she had an idea why. The dark future they had witnessed was no mere nightmare—it was a vision of despair, and Ariana had borne its weight alone. “Have they spoken of what happened?”

    “Not publicly,” Leliana said. “Whatever transpired there must have been harrowing.”

    Josephine sighed. “I only hope the Commander has been able to help her. We need her steady. The Inquisition needs her steady.”

    Before the conversation could continue, the Chantry doors opened, and Cullen and Ariana entered together.

    The room fell silent. Ariana’s composure seemed restored, though there was a quiet fire in her eyes—a new intensity that hadn’t been there before. She moved with deliberate grace, her gaze sharp. Cullen walked beside her, his protective presence grounding, though his watchful demeanor suggested he remained attuned to her unspoken emotions.

    To everyone’s surprise, Ariana stepped forward and pulled Cassandra and Leliana into a warm embrace. Both women froze, momentarily stunned.

    “Thank you,” Ariana said softly, her voice steady but brimming with emotion. “In Redcliffe, you sacrificed everything so I could return.”

    Cassandra and Leliana exchanged uncertain glances, unaccustomed to such gestures from the Herald. But in her words, they heard the depth of her gratitude.

    “Of course I did,” Leliana quipped, breaking the tension. “One small life for a second chance at history? I’ve always loved a bargain.”

    Cassandra pulled back slightly, her gaze searching. “What happened?”

    Ariana hesitated, taking a steadying breath before she began to recount the events of the dark future. Her voice remained calm, though her words carried the weight of what she had seen: the assassination of Empress Celene, the chaos in Orlais, the rise of the Elder One, and the devastation of Thedas. She described the corrupted templars, the Breach spreading unchecked, and the ultimate downfall of the Inquisition.

    She faltered when speaking of the fates of those in the room—Cassandra’s defiance, Leliana’s capture, Cullen’s tragic end. As her voice wavered, Cullen moved slightly closer, his hand resting lightly against the small of her back. The touch was steady, grounding, and she drew strength from it. With a deep breath, she finished with quiet determination. “It was real. And I won’t let it happen again.”

    The room was silent as her words settled over them. Leliana’s jaw tightened, and Josephine looked pale, but Cassandra spoke first. “You’ve carried this well. Better than most would.”

    “I don’t feel like I have,” Ariana admitted quietly. “But we don’t have the luxury of dwelling on it. The mages are here. The Elder One is still out there. The Breach remains open. We need to act.”

    Cullen crossed his arms, his tone measured but firm. “Now that the mages are here, what is their place in Haven? How do we ensure this doesn’t become another disaster?”

    Ariana met his gaze evenly. “I recruited them as allies, not prisoners. They’ve agreed to work alongside the Templars. Together—not as captors and captives, but as equals.”

    “There’s risk in that,” Cullen said, his expression serious. “I understand their desperation, but that desperation led to Redcliffe.”

    “They’re not prisoners, Cullen,” Ariana said firmly. “And we’re not building another Circle. Respect is non-negotiable. If there are issues, we’ll address them—individually.”

    He held her gaze for a long moment before nodding. “If that’s your decision, I’ll ensure it’s upheld.”

    “Thank you,” Ariana said softly, her voice carrying both relief and resolve.

    Cassandra’s expression remained firm. “While I may not completely agree with the decision, I support it. The sole purpose of the Herald’s mission was to secure the mages’ aid, and that was accomplished. We need them for the fight ahead.” 

    Dorian chose that moment to step into view from behind a pillar, his usual grin firmly in place. “The voice of pragmatism speaks! How delightfully refreshing.” 

    Ariana quirked an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Is hiding behind pillars a habit of yours?” 

    Dorian shrugged, his grin widening. “I do like to make a fashionable entrance.” 

    She chuckled softly, shaking her head. 

    “Closing the Breach is all that matters,” Cassandra interjected, bringing the conversation back to its somber focus. 

    “Dorian and I got a taste of the consequences if we fail,” Ariana said, her tone losing its lightness. “I would prefer not to see that a second time.” 

    Leliana stepped forward, her voice calm but firm. “We should look into what you saw in this… ‘dark future.’ The assassination of Empress Celene? A demon army? The Elder One himself?” 

    “One battle at a time,” Cullen said firmly, his leadership instincts taking over. “It’s going to take time to organize our troops and the mage recruits. Let’s take this to the war room.” 

    He turned to Ariana, his expression softening. “Join us. None of this means anything without you, after all.” 

    Ariana smirked faintly. “And here I’d hoped to sit out the assault on the Breach. Take a nap. Maybe go for a walk…” 

    Cullen chuckled lightly, shaking his head. “What is it they say? No rest for the wicked?” 

    “I’ll skip the war council,” Dorian interjected, waving a hand dismissively, “but I would like to see this Breach up close, if you don’t mind.” 

    “You’re… staying?” Ariana asked, a soft smile touching her lips. 

    “Oh, didn’t I mention? The South is so charming and rustic. I adore it to little pieces,” Dorian replied with exaggerated cheer, placing a hand dramatically over his heart. 

    “There’s no black sheep I’d rather be stranded in time with,” Ariana quipped, laughing softly. 

    “Excellent choice! But let’s not get stranded again anytime soon, yes?” Dorian retorted, flashing a grin. 

    Cullen watched their banter with a small, amused smile. He couldn’t help but feel a flicker of gratitude for Dorian. During their time together, Ariana had explained her connection with him—their shared understanding of rebellion against obligation. Their camaraderie was natural, built on mutual respect and wit. “Besides, he’s far more interested in you than me,” she’d teased Cullen, a comment that had left him both relieved and quietly amused. 

    “I’ll begin preparations to march on the summit,” Cullen said, bowing his head slightly to Ariana. “Maker willing, the mages will be enough to grant us victory.” 

    Ariana nodded, her resolve steeling once more. The dark future she had seen would not come to pass—not while she had the strength to prevent it.

  • Chapter 68 – In Hushed Whispers

    13 – 14 Bloomingtide 9:41

    As they entered Redcliffe, Ariana couldn’t shake the oppressive weight hanging over the village. It was more than the darkened streets and empty homes. The very air felt heavy, like the remnants of fear and betrayal had seeped into the stones. Every mage they passed had the same haunted expression, eyes darting toward the castle with equal parts dread and resentment. The entire village felt hollow, a shell of the hopeful haven it had once been.

    This is what desperation leads to, Ariana thought, her jaw tightening. She couldn’t blame the mages for wanting to survive, but aligning with Tevinter? The very thought made her stomach churn. This wasn’t what Fiona had promised them.

    When they entered Redcliffe Castle, a group of Venatori guards flanked a man Ariana could only assume was Alexius’ personal aide. His posture was stiff, his gaze flickering nervously over the trio as they approached.

    “Announce us,” Ariana commanded, her noble upbringing slipping effortlessly into her tone. She didn’t need to shout; her words carried the authority of someone who expected to be obeyed.

    The aide hesitated, his brow furrowing. “The Magister’s invitation was for Mistress Trevelyan alone. The rest will wait here,” he said, though his discomfort was evident.

    Of course it was, Ariana thought, her irritation flaring. Alexius was already trying to dictate the terms. He underestimates me. Tilting her head slightly, she allowed a faint, polite smile to tug at her lips. “They must accompany me. You wouldn’t deprive me of my attaches, would you?” Her tone was honeyed, but her eyes promised consequences if he refused.

    Her words landed as intended, and the aide relented with a reluctant nod. Ariana’s satisfaction was brief, the dark halls of Redcliffe Castle only deepening her unease.

    “My Lord Magister, the agents of the Inquisition have arrived,” the aide announced as they entered the throne room.

    Alexius, seated in the Arl’s throne as if it were his birthright, rose to greet them. “My friend! It is good to see you again,” he said, his tone smooth and calculated. His gaze flicked briefly to Cassandra and Solas. “And your associates, of course.”

    Friend? Ariana kept her face neutral, returning the greeting with a polite nod and a bow. You don’t even know me.

    “I’m sure we can work out some arrangement that is equitable to all parties,” Alexius continued, his voice dripping with confidence.

    Before Ariana could respond, Fiona emerged from the shadows, startling her. For a brief moment, frustration flared. You. The woman who had led them all here.

    “Are we mages to have no voice in deciding our fate?” Fiona asked, her voice trembling with an emotion Ariana couldn’t quite place.

    Alexius turned to Fiona, his smile smooth but thin. “Fiona, you would not have turned your followers over to my care if you did not trust me with their lives.”

    Ariana latched onto the opportunity to assert control. “If the Grand Enchanter wants to be part of these talks,” she said smoothly, her tone sharper than before, “then I welcome her as a guest of the Inquisition.”

    The flicker of gratitude in Fiona’s eyes surprised Ariana, but it also deepened her suspicion. Why do you look like someone just threw you a lifeline? You made this deal. “Thank you,” Fiona said, nodding toward Ariana.

    Alexius’ irritation was palpable as he returned to his seat on the throne. “The Inquisition needs mages to close the Breach, and I have them. So, what shall you offer in exchange?”

    Ariana smiled, her confidence unwavering. “Nothing at all. I’m just going to take the mages and leave.”

    Fiona’s wide-eyed expression spoke volumes, hope and relief warring on her face.

    Alexius raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “And how do you imagine you’ll accomplish such a feat?”

    Before Ariana could answer, Felix stepped forward, his voice quiet but firm. “She knows everything, Father.”

    Ariana’s gaze flicked to Felix, her heart sinking. What did you do, Felix?

    Alexius turned to his son, his eyes sharp with reproach. “What have you done?”

    Ariana seized the moment, taking a step forward. Her voice was calm but laced with steel. “Your trap has failed, Alexius. You wanted me here. Why?”

    His composed mask cracked, revealing the fanatical fervor beneath. “You walk into my stronghold with your stolen mark—a gift you don’t even understand—and think you’re in control? You’re nothing but a mistake.”

    The insult barely registered. Ariana tilted her head, her voice turning ice-cold. “To be clear, Magister, this is not your stronghold. It belongs to Arl Teagan, to Ferelden. As for the mark, if you know so much, enlighten me.”

    Alexius sneered. “It belongs to your betters. You wouldn’t even begin to understand its purpose.”

    Before Ariana could retort, Dorian stepped in, his sharp voice breaking the tension. “Now he sounds exactly like the sort of villainous cliché everyone expects us to be,” he mocked. His theatrical quip cut through the weight of the moment, and despite herself, Ariana felt a faint flicker of relief. Finally, an ally who isn’t afraid to poke the bear.

    Ariana’s lips quirked into a small smile as Dorian stepped into view, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp.

    “Dorian,” Alexius said, disappointment heavy in his tone. “I gave you a chance to be a part of this. You turned me down. The Elder One has power you would not believe. He will raise the Imperium from its ashes.”

    Ariana’s eyes narrowed as the pieces clicked into place. “That’s who you serve? The one who killed the Divine?”

    Alexius’ fervor burned brighter. “He will make the world bow to mages once more. We will rule from the Boeric Ocean to the Frozen Seas.”

    “You can’t involve my people in this,” Fiona snapped, her voice trembling with anger.

    “Stop it, Father,” Felix interrupted, his voice desperate. “Give up the Venatori. Let the southern mages fight the Breach, and let’s go home.”

    Alexius’ voice cracked as he shouted, “No! It’s the only way, Felix. He can save you. There is a way. The Elder One promised. If I undo the mistake at the Temple…”

    “Save me?” Felix replied, his tone resolute. “I’m going to die, Father. You need to accept that.”

    Ariana’s breath caught as Alexius’ pain twisted into rage. “Seize them, Venatori! The Elder One demands this woman’s life!”

    Before the guards could act, they began dropping to the ground, one by one, dead. Ariana’s scouts had moved into position, the ambush swift and decisive.

    “Your men are dead, Alexius. Give up now,” Ariana commanded, her voice cold and unyielding.

    Alexius’ hand rose, gripping a strange necklace as he snarled, “You… are a mistake! You never should have existed!”

    Dorian’s eyes widened, recognition flashing across his face. “No! He’s casting—”

    Before Alexius could complete his spell, Dorian managed to unleash a counterspell, the disruptive magic colliding with Alexius’ own. The air crackled with energy, and for a brief moment, it seemed like Dorian’s intervention might have worked. 

    But the damage was already done. Chaos erupted as a rift tore through the room, its energy consuming everything in blinding light. As the world dissolved around her, one thought cut through the haze: Cullen. His voice, steady and firm, echoed in her mind. Be careful.

    Darkness consumed her.

    ~~~

    The atmosphere was suffocating, the air thick with an unnatural heaviness that pressed against Ariana’s chest. When her vision cleared, the castle hall she’d just left was gone, replaced by a smaller, darker room that radiated dread. The walls were jagged with veins of red lyrium, their eerie glow casting grotesque shadows and filling the space with a low, ominous hum. It felt alive—malevolent.

    Ariana turned quickly, her heart pounding as she scanned her surroundings. The sight of two Venatori guards startled her, their shock mirrored in her own.

    Don’t think, Ariana. Act.

    Her body moved on instinct. She darted forward, her daggers flashing in the dim light as she and Dorian dispatched the guards with brutal efficiency. Her breath came in sharp gasps as the last one fell, and she wiped her blades clean with trembling hands. The familiar motion did little to steady her.

    She glanced at Dorian, who stood with unnerving calm, already studying the glowing lyrium veins with a detached curiosity.

    “Displacement? Interesting!” he mused, rubbing his chin as though they’d stumbled into an intriguing academic puzzle rather than a nightmare.

    Ariana’s patience frayed. “Displacement? Dorian, where are we?”

    “Not just where, my dear,” he replied, pacing with maddening nonchalance. “But when. Alexius used the amulet as a focus. It moved us through time! Brilliant, really—dangerous, but brilliant.”

    The floor beneath her seemed to tilt as his words sank in. “Through time?” Panic edged her voice, despite her best efforts to control it. “That doesn’t sound good, Dorian.”

    “It sounds terrible,” he admitted, his characteristic humor failing to mask his concern. “Depending on how far we’ve been displaced and what happened while we were away.”

    Her gaze shifted to the walls, where the red lyrium pulsed like a living wound. She had seen its effects before, but not like this. This was infestation. Corruption. It wasn’t just dangerous—it was consuming. How long have we been gone? What’s waiting for us outside these walls?

    “Let’s look around,” Dorian said, breaking her spiraling thoughts. “If we can determine where—and when—we are, we can figure out how to get back… assuming it’s possible.”

    Assuming?” Ariana snapped, her frustration spilling over as she glared at him. “You could’ve started with a little more confidence! What was Alexius even trying to do?”

    Dorian sobered slightly, his usual levity giving way to something heavier. “Erase you from time completely. Without you, the Elder One’s plans could proceed unchallenged. But the spell went wild when I countered it. I believe we’ve been displaced instead.”

    Ariana’s stomach twisted. “Great,” she muttered, sarcasm tinged with bitterness. Not only did I walk into Alexius’ trap, but now I’ve dragged Dorian into it, too.

    As they moved through the castle’s lower levels, the sight of red lyrium twisting through every surface made Ariana’s chest tighten. It spread like a disease, turning stone into grotesque formations that pulsed and hummed. Her fingers tightened around her daggers as guilt whispered insidiously at the edges of her mind. I should’ve stopped Alexius sooner. I should’ve listened to Cullen. Maker, I should’ve done something.

    They stopped abruptly at a cell, and Ariana’s breath caught. Inside, Fiona was barely recognizable. Her body was mangled, twisted by the lyrium that encased her like a grotesque cocoon. The sight was a punch to the gut, each shallow breath Fiona took cutting Ariana deeper.

    “Grand Enchanter?” she called softly, her voice trembling despite herself.

    Fiona stirred, her movements labored and pained. “You’re… alive?” she rasped, her voice barely audible. “How? I saw you… disappear into the rift.”

    Ariana stepped closer, swallowing the lump in her throat. “Fiona, what happened?”

    The answer was worse than she could have imagined. “Red lyrium,” Fiona whispered. “It’s a disease. The longer you’re near it… you become this. Then they mine your corpse for more.”

    Ariana fought the bile rising in her throat, forcing herself to meet Fiona’s glassy gaze. The White Wolf doesn’t falter. You can’t falter now.

    Dorian leaned in, urgency sharpening his tone. “What’s the date? Do you know the year?”

    “Harvestmere,” Fiona rasped, her voice fading. “9:42… Dragon.”

    Ariana staggered back, the words slamming into her like a physical blow. “We’ve missed an entire year?” she repeated, disbelief mixing with horror. What’s happened in that year? What have I allowed to happen by failing?

    Dorian’s expression was grim, the weight of the timeline heavy on him as well. “We need to leave,” he said firmly. “This future cannot stand.”

    Fiona’s voice was barely a whisper now, her strength fading. “Your spymaster… Leliana… she is here. Find her. Quickly… before the Elder One… learns you’re here.”

    Ariana knelt beside Fiona, her voice trembling. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, guilt choking her. “I should’ve protected you. I should’ve—” Her voice broke.

    Fiona’s eyes fluttered closed, her final words a plea. “Make it… right.”

    Ariana rose slowly, her hands trembling but her jaw set. She turned to Dorian, her voice hard. “Let’s go. If Leliana’s here, she’ll know what to do.”

    Every step through the corrupted halls felt heavier, the red lyrium seeming to pulse in time with Ariana’s growing guilt. The image of Fiona—broken, consumed—burned in her mind, a haunting reminder of what failure looked like.

    This is what happens when I fail. The thought echoed with every beat of her heart, but so too did another: I can’t let it happen again.

    Her resolve hardened. Whatever awaited them, she wouldn’t stop until she set things right.

    ~~~

    Each step through the castle’s corrupted halls was heavy with dread, the sound of their footsteps echoing like a dirge. Ariana tried to keep her composure, her expression set into a mask of calm determination, but her thoughts churned relentlessly. If Leliana is here… who else? The question repeated in her mind like a drumbeat. The idea twisted her stomach, each possibility more unbearable than the last. Was Cullen here? Had he fought for Haven and survived? Was he…

    She swallowed hard, forcing herself to focus on the path ahead, but the guilt crept in, unwelcome and persistent. He’d been so upset when I left. I’d seen it in his eyes, heard it in his voice. And I said nothing to ease his mind. She clenched her fists tightly around her daggers. If he’s here, is he even still alive? And if he is… does he blame me for abandoning him like that?

    The oppressive silence was broken by a low, steady voice that echoed eerily through the halls:

    “The Light shall lead her safely through the paths of this world and into the next. For she who trusts the Maker, fire is her water.”

    Ariana stopped abruptly, her heart skipping a beat. She exchanged a quick, uncertain glance with Dorian before moving toward the sound, her breath catching in her throat. “Cassandra,” she whispered, her voice wavering.

    As they rounded the corner, the sight of Cassandra brought Ariana to a halt. The woman who had once been a pillar of unyielding strength now knelt in the corner of a cell, her armor cracked and worn, her face hollowed by exhaustion and despair. The sight hit Ariana like a physical blow. Cassandra looked broken, her head bowed in prayer as though it were the only thing holding her together.

    Cassandra’s eyes lifted slowly, and when they met Ariana’s, they widened in disbelief. “You’ve returned to us,” she breathed, her voice trembling with a mix of wonder and pain. “Can it be? Andraste has given us another chance? Maker forgive me… I failed you. I failed everyone. The end must truly be upon us if the dead return to life.”

    Ariana knelt just outside the bars of the cell, her voice soft but steady. “I’m not back from the dead, Cassandra. This… is hard to explain.”

    “I was there,” Cassandra said, her tone raw with emotion. “The Magister obliterated you with a gesture. We tried to fight. We couldn’t… stop it. The Elder One rose, and everything fell.”

    “Actually,” Dorian interjected, his voice carefully measured, “Alexius sent us forward in time. We’re… displaced. If we find him, we may be able to return to the present.”

    Cassandra slowly rose, her strength visibly returning as she processed his words. “Alexius’s master,” she said, her voice sharpening with anger. “After you died, we could not stop the Elder One from rising. Empress Celene was murdered. The army that followed—it was a horde of demons. Nothing stopped them. Nothing.”

    Ariana felt her chest tighten as the weight of Cassandra’s words settled over her like a shroud. For Cassandra, this wasn’t just a nightmare—it was reality. She had lived it, fought it, and suffered through every moment. “I’m sorry,” Ariana said quietly, her voice laced with guilt. “I should have been there.”

    “You’re here now,” Cassandra replied firmly, her voice carrying the same steely resolve that had always defined her. She straightened, her eyes burning with determination. “Let’s make sure this never happens.”

    They freed Cassandra and pressed on, their steps quicker now. As they passed jagged veins of glowing red lyrium, Ariana’s mind turned to Haven. What if the lyrium is there too? The thought made her stomach turn. What if Cullen…

    The next cell brought a voice that broke her train of thought. “Is someone there?”

    “Solas?” Ariana called, hurrying forward.

    Solas stepped into view, his expression one of disbelief. “You’re alive? We saw you die!”

    “The spell displaced us in time,” Dorian said, his tone casual but tinged with gravity. “We only just arrived, so to speak.”

    Solas, already working through the implications, nodded grimly. “If you can reverse the process, you could return and obviate the events of the last year. It may not be too late.”

    “We’re trying,” Ariana said, though doubt crept into her voice. Every new horror they encountered made her question whether reversing this future was even possible. “This world is a nightmare. We have to fix it.”

    Solas’s gaze was piercing. “This world is an abomination. It must never come to pass.”

    As they moved on, the air grew heavier with the weight of screams echoing from distant cells. Each cry twisted Ariana’s gut, fueling her anger. This is what happens when I fail. This is the cost of my choices.

    Finally, they reached the upper levels, where a familiar voice rang out, sharp and defiant: “How did Trevelyan know of the sacrifice at the temple? Answer!”

    “Never!” Leliana’s voice cut through the chaos, sharp as a blade.

    Ariana’s heart thundered in her chest. “We have to hurry,” she said, breaking into a run.

    The sight of Leliana shackled and surrounded by Venatori filled Ariana with cold fury. The moment the interrogator turned toward her, Leliana took advantage, snapping his neck with brutal efficiency.

    “You’re alive,” Leliana said as Ariana freed her, disbelief mingling with relief. “What happened? Where have you been?”

    “Alexius miscalculated,” Ariana said quickly. “We were displaced in time. We’re here now, but we need to go back.”

    Leliana’s expression darkened, her voice sharp. “And mages wonder why people fear them. No one should have this power.”

    “It’s dangerous and unpredictable,” Dorian began, “Before the Breach, nothing we did—” 

    “Enough!” she snapped. “This is all pretend to you, isn’t it? A future you hope will never exist. But for me—for all of us—it was real. I suffered. We all suffered.”

    Ariana stepped closer, her voice steady despite the weight in her chest. “I know. And I’m sorry. I’ll do everything in my power to fix this.”

    Leliana held her gaze for a moment before nodding. “Then let’s not waste time.”

    As they moved onward, Ariana’s thoughts turned to Cullen once more. If he’s here… would he even forgive me? Could he? The weight of her decisions pressed down harder with each step, but she couldn’t afford to falter. There was too much at stake—and she wouldn’t let them pay the price for her failures again.

    ~~~

    Each step through the castle felt like a descent into a waking nightmare. Ariana’s fury and grief churned within her like a storm, the oppressive glow of red lyrium painting her surroundings in blood and shadows. The questions tore at her, each more unbearable than the last. She stole glances at Leliana, who pressed forward with grim focus, but Ariana’s mind remained trapped in the past, replaying every choice she had made. Every word she had failed to say. Her lips parted to ask, but she hesitated. Did she even want to know the rest? The gnawing doubt compelled her forward anyway.

    “Leliana…” Her voice trembled, but she forced herself to speak. “What happened to Cullen?”

    The faint hesitation in Leliana’s step didn’t go unnoticed, but when she spoke, her tone was firm, if quiet. “He fought. Like he always does. Cullen rallied everyone—the Inquisition, the Rangers, even King Alistair’s troops.”

    Ariana nodded faintly, bracing herself for the inevitable. Her knuckles tightened against her daggers, the hilts digging into her palms.

    “For weeks, they laid siege to Redcliffe Castle,” Leliana continued, her voice steady but heavy with unspoken sorrow. “But Alexius’s forces… they were bolstered by demons and Venatori. It was never a fair fight. Just as Cullen predicted, it wasn’t enough.”

    Ariana’s breath hitched. She already knew how this would end, but hearing it aloud made the truth unbearable.

    “They captured him,” Leliana said, her tone softening now. “Alexius forced red lyrium on him. Cullen resisted for longer than anyone I’ve seen, but eventually…” She trailed off, her words caught in her throat.

    “No.” Ariana whispered, shaking her head as though the motion might undo the truth. Her heart pounded as images she couldn’t bear to picture flooded her mind.

    Leliana’s voice grew quieter, each word cutting deeper. “They tortured him for information, trying to break him. But he never betrayed you. Not once. Even when the lyrium… changed him, he held onto his faith. He believed you were alive. He held onto that hope until the end.”

    Ariana stumbled, catching herself against the cold, corrupted wall. Her vision blurred as tears threatened to spill. Her chest ached as if the guilt was physically suffocating her. He never stopped hoping. He believed in me… while I left him behind.

    “That was the last time I saw him,” Ariana rasped, her voice barely audible. “That day in the war room?”

    Leliana hesitated but then nodded. “He knew you loved him,” she added quietly. “Isabel told him before they marched. She made sure of it.”

    Her thoughts spiraled uncontrollably. Cullen. He fought for me. He believed in me. And I left him that day, upset and unresolved. Did he think I didn’t care? Did he die hating me for it?

    Ariana blinked rapidly, her tears threatening to overflow. “She… did?”

    Leliana glanced back at her, her expression softening just slightly. “It wasn’t hard to see. You may have left things unsaid, but it was obvious to everyone else. He loved you just as much.”

    The words pierced Ariana’s heart, filling her with both gratitude and crushing regret. He knew. And yet I never told him myself. Never gave him that certainty. Her fists tightened at her sides as her guilt morphed into fury.

    Alexius. The Elder One. All of them. They did this.

    Her jaw clenched, her breaths coming sharper now as her grief ignited into something far more dangerous. I won’t let this stand. I’ll go back. I’ll stop this. And I’ll tell him everything I should have said before.

    When they reached the throne room, the doors creaked open to reveal Alexius slumped on Arl Teagan’s throne, his gaunt form framed by grotesque veins of red lyrium climbing the walls like a cancer.

    “Was it all worth it, Alexius?” she demanded, her voice a low, dangerous growl. “What you did to the world? The suffering?”

    Alexius sat slumped in the throne, his head lifting slowly to look at her. His voice was hollow, defeated. “And here you are, finally. I knew you would appear again. Not that it would be now. But I knew I hadn’t destroyed you. My final failure.” 

    “Why, Alexius?” Dorian demanded, stepping forward. “Why did you do this? To the world? To yourself?” 

    Alexius sighed deeply, his face etched with regret. “It doesn’t matter now. All we can do is wait for the end.” 

    Ariana’s brow furrowed. “The end?” 

    Alexius gestured faintly at the red lyrium creeping up the walls. “All that I fought for, all that I betrayed… and what have I wrought? Ruin and death. There is nothing else. The Elder One comes: for me, for you, for us all.” 

    From the shadows, Leliana moved swiftly, grabbing Felix and pressing a knife to his throat. 

    “Felix!” Alexius’s voice cracked with desperation as he leapt from the throne. 

    “That’s Felix?” Dorian said, horrified. “Maker’s breath, Alexius, what have you done?” 

    “He would have died, Dorian! I saved him!” Alexius pleaded, his voice breaking. “Please, don’t hurt my son. I’ll do anything you ask.” 

    Ariana’s voice was low, measured, and filled with simmering rage. “There are fates worse than death. You didn’t save him, Alexius. No one deserves to live like that. Felix didn’t want to live like that.” 

    Her gaze met Leliana’s, and she nodded. Without hesitation, Leliana slit Felix’s throat. 

    Alexius let out an anguished cry, his composure shattering. “No!” His hands shot forward, and a rift tore open behind him as he screamed in rage. 

    Demons poured from the rift as Alexius attacked, summoning everything he could to defend himself. But Ariana and her party fought with the precision born of desperation and anger. She closed the rifts as quickly as Alexius could open them. As the battle raged, Ariana’s fury drove her, each strike a declaration. For Cullen, for Haven, for everyone you took from me. This ends now.

    Finally, Alexius fell, his body slumping to the ground. 

    Dorian stood over him, shaking his head. “He wanted to die, didn’t he? All those lies he told himself, the justifications… He lost Felix long ago and didn’t even notice. Oh, Alexius…” 

    “I’m sorry, Dorian,” Ariana said softly, her voice carrying the weight of her own guilt. “I know this isn’t easy.” 

    “Once, he was a man to whom I compared all others,” Dorian said quietly, almost to himself. “Sad, isn’t it?” 

    He searched Alexius’s body and pulled out the amulet. “Here,” he said, holding it up. “This is the same amulet he used before. I think it’s the one we made in Minrathous. That’s a relief. Give me an hour to work out the spell, and I should be able to reopen the rift.” 

    “An hour? That’s impossible! You must go now!” Leliana interrupted, her voice sharp. 

    A roar echoed through the castle, shaking the walls. 

    “The Elder One,” Leliana said grimly. 

    “You cannot stay here,” Solas said, exchanging a meaningful look with Cassandra. They nodded at each other in silent agreement. “We’ll hold the outer door. When they get past us, it will be your turn.” 

    Ariana swallowed hard, forcing herself to push down the emotions threatening to overwhelm her. “We’ll make this count.” 

    Solas and Cassandra left the room, closing the doors behind them. Leliana moved to stand in front of the door, her bow at the ready. 

    “Cast your spell,” she said to Dorian, her voice steady. “You have as much time as I have arrows. The only way we live is if this day never comes.” 

    Ariana and Dorian retreated toward the throne as he began weaving his spell. The sounds of battle outside grew louder, and Ariana couldn’t tell how much time had passed. Eventually, the doors slammed open, demons and Venatori pouring in. Leliana didn’t falter, taking them down one by one with perfectly placed arrows. 

    “Andraste guide me. Maker take me to your side,” Leliana whispered. 

    An arrow struck her shoulder, and Ariana almost moved to help her, but Dorian grabbed her arm. 

    “You move, and we all die!” he snapped, his voice urgent. 

    At last, Dorian completed the spell, and a rift similar to the one that brought them to this nightmare opened. As the light of the rift engulfed Ariana, her last thought was of Cullen. Hold on. I’ll come back to you. And this time, I’ll say everything I should have said.

    ~~~

    “You’ll have to do better than that, Alexius,” Dorian quipped as they stepped out of the rift, clearly pleased with his handiwork, though his usual flamboyance was muted by the weight of what they had just endured.

    Alexius collapsed to his knees, the energy and defiance that had driven him through their last confrontation now utterly spent. He didn’t even struggle as Inquisition soldiers closed in to restrain him, his muttered laments barely audible.

    “You’ve won,” Alexius murmured, his voice hollow and distant. “There’s no point in extending the charade. Felix… my Felix…”

    Ariana barely registered his words. The world around her was the same—Redcliffe Castle, pristine and untouched by the corruption of red lyrium. The air was clean, not suffused with the choking malignance of the future they had seen. It should have been a relief. Instead, it felt like a fragile illusion, one she feared might shatter at any moment.

    Her boots echoed sharply on the stone floor as she turned toward the main doors. Her mind was already racing ahead, every step driven by a singular need: to return to Haven, to see Cullen, to make sure he was alive. She tried to push away the irrational thought that he might not be, but it dug into her mind like a splinter.

    The heavy wooden doors swung open, and a flood of Fereldan troops poured in, their armor glinting in the torchlight. At their head were King Alistair and Queen Anora, their regal bearing stark against the backdrop of the castle. The sight of them, alive and whole, confirmed what Ariana already knew but still struggled to trust. We’re back. This is our time.

    Fiona rushed forward to meet them, bowing low, but Alistair’s expression was hard, his tone sharp. “Grand Enchanter. Imagine my surprise when I learned you’d handed over Redcliffe Castle to a Tevinter magister. Care to explain?”

    “Your Majesties,” Fiona began hastily, her tone tinged with desperation, “Alistair, Queen Anora, I assure you, we never intended—”

    “I know what you intended,” Alistair interrupted, his voice laced with disappointment. “I wanted to help you. But this? You’ve made it impossible. You and your followers are no longer welcome in Ferelden.”

    “But…” Fiona hesitated, scrambling to find the right words. “We have hundreds who need protection! Where will we go?” 

    The weight of his words silenced Fiona, leaving her scrambling for a response. Ariana, standing a few steps behind her, straightened, her voice cutting through the tension. “Your Majesties, if I may?”

    Alistair glanced at her, his gaze softening slightly. He gave a small nod, allowing her to continue.

    “You’ll be leaving here with the Inquisition,” Ariana said firmly, her tone brooking no argument. 

    Fiona turned to Ariana, her expression wary. “And what are the terms of this… arrangement?”

    Ariana’s expression didn’t waver. “I can assure you, they are better than the slavery offered by the Tevinter Imperium.” 

    “They have lost all possible supporters. The Inquisition is their only remaining chance for freedom,” Solas added evenly. 

    Ariana’s jaw tightened, her tone steady but unyielding. “You’ll join us as allies, under close supervision. The Inquisition has no intention of enslaving you, but after this, we need assurances.” Her gaze didn’t waver, her authority palpable. “It’s a better offer than the one Alexius gave you. And your people will survive.”

    Alistair folded his arms, his voice cutting through the tension. “I’d take that offer if I were you. One way or another, you’re leaving my kingdom.” 

    Fiona hesitated, clearly reluctant, but finally inclined her head. “Very well,” she said, her voice resigned. “I’ll ready my people for the journey to Haven.”

    Alistair stepped closer to Ariana, his posture relaxing just slightly as he folded his arms. “It’s been a while,” he said, a faint smile breaking through his earlier severity.

    “It has,” Ariana replied, her lips curving into a small smile despite the storm still raging in her chest. “I trust Antiva treated you well?”

    “Not nearly as exciting as this,” Alistair quipped, gesturing to the castle around them. “But I did manage to avoid any Tevinter magisters, so that’s a win.”

    “From what Varric and Isabela told me, it probably would’ve been easier if I’d brought you along,” Alistair quipped. 

    Ariana chuckled. “Always. But I wasn’t for hire that day,” she replied, her expression softening. Then, more seriously, she added, “I am sorry I wasn’t able to get here before… well… all this.” 

    “It’s alright,” Alistair reassured her. “Luckily, we didn’t suffer any casualties, and it still seems the Inquisition did most of the work.” His tone shifted to something more playful as he added, “So… Herald of Andraste, is it now?” 

    Ariana rolled her eyes with a groan. “That’s what they tell me.” 

    “How does that hand thingy work?” Alistair asked, grinning as Queen Anora sighed in exasperation and walked away. 

    She chuckled softly, indulging in the light-hearted banter for a few more moments. When Alistair excused himself to address his troops, Ariana turned back to Cassandra, Dorian, and Solas, her tone once again commanding. “You can handle the mages from here?” she asked, though it wasn’t really a question.

    Cassandra nodded, her expression understanding. “Of course.”

    Ariana didn’t wait for further confirmation. She was already moving, her steps brisk as she left the castle behind.

    The crisp air of Redcliffe hit her like a balm as she stepped outside, but it didn’t slow her pace. Everything about the world told her they were back where they were supposed to be. The castle was uncorrupted, the sky free of the sickly glow of the future they’d glimpsed. And yet, Ariana couldn’t shake the clawing unease gnawing at her chest. She needed to get back to Haven. Now.

    Her heart raced, every step toward the horses a struggle not to break into a full sprint. He’s alive, she told herself firmly, trying to steady her thoughts. He has to be. This is our time again. That future doesn’t exist anymore.

    But the memory of Leliana’s words haunted her. He believed you were alive. He held onto that hope until the end.

    Her breath hitched as the guilt swelled again, threatening to drown her. She hadn’t been there for him, hadn’t said the words that had been clawing at her throat since Kirkwall. And yet, he had held onto her, even in his darkest moments.

    This time will be different, she vowed silently. I’ll make sure of it.

    By the time she reached her horse, her hands trembled as she gripped the reins. She mounted quickly, her thoughts a whirlwind of hope and desperation. Every second spent away from Haven felt unbearable. She needed to see him, hold him, make sure he was real—and tell him everything.

    As the castle disappeared behind her and the road stretched ahead, only one thought drove her forward: Hold on, Cullen. I’m coming back to you. This time, I’ll say everything I should have said.

  • Chapter 67 – Something More Sinister

    9 – 12 Bloomingtide 9:41

    Cullen stood near the training grounds, his sharp eyes scanning the recruits as they fumbled through their stances. He corrected a soldier’s grip on a sword, but his focus wandered, drawn toward the rhythmic bustle of Haven. Amid the routine activity, a figure on horseback appeared at the edge of the village, and his chest tightened.

    Ariana was back.

    Relief was his first reaction, but it was fleeting. As she rode closer, his practiced gaze caught every detail: the exhaustion etched into her features, the subtle slump of her shoulders, the haunted, distant look in her hazel-green eyes. Whatever had happened in Redcliffe, it had shaken her.

    She didn’t seem to notice him at first, her attention elsewhere, as though she was bracing herself for whatever came next.

    “Herald,” Cullen called, his tone firm yet gentle, the sound cutting through the hum of Haven’s activity.

    Ariana startled slightly at the sound of his voice, her head snapping up to meet his gaze. For a moment, the weariness in her eyes softened, replaced by a faint smile that felt more like an echo of the real thing. She dismounted with practiced ease, passing the reins to a waiting soldier before walking toward him.

    “Are you all right?” Cullen asked, closing the distance between them. His voice was low, laced with concern.

    “Yeah, I’m fine,” she replied, though the words lacked conviction. She tried to meet his gaze with a steadiness that faltered almost immediately. “I assume you’ve received the reports already?”

    “Some,” he replied, frowning. “They weren’t very clear—only that there’s a Tevinter Magister in Redcliffe and that Arl Teagan has fled. What happened?”

    Her gaze shifted, glancing around the training grounds as if gauging the number of ears nearby. “You want to walk with me?” she asked, managing a faint but more genuine smile.

    Cullen nodded, falling into step beside her. They had only just turned toward the outskirts of Haven when a soldier approached, his face alight with an impish grin.

    “My Lady Herald,” the soldier began, his tone caught somewhere between formal and teasing. “A moment?”

    Ariana raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Yes?”

    “What’s your favorite flower?” the soldier asked, his grin widening.

    Ariana blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “I… um…” She hesitated before replying. “Jasmines and Lilacs, I suppose? Or Andraste’s Grace?”

    The soldier nodded, his grin taking on an air of mischief as he gave her a quick bow. “Thank you, my Lady,” he said, walking away with a noticeable spring in his step.

    Cullen exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Maker’s breath,” he muttered under his breath.

    “Do I want to know what that was about?” Ariana asked, a small laugh escaping her despite the exhaustion weighing on her voice.

    “No,” Cullen replied tersely, his jaw tightening. “Not really.”

    Ariana chuckled, shaking her head. “You’ll tell me if there’s something I should know, though, right?”

    His exasperation softened at her light tone. “If there’s anything important, you’ll be the first to know,” he assured her.

    They continued toward a quiet spot near Haven’s edge, where Cullen gestured for her to sit on a low stone wall. He didn’t miss how heavily she sank onto it, her exhaustion palpable.

    “Now,” he began, his voice softer, more measured, “are you going to tell me what happened in Redcliffe? And have you slept at all?”

    Ariana sighed, leaning forward slightly and resting her elbows on her knees. “Not since we left,” she admitted. “My mind won’t stop. There’s too much to figure out.”

    As she recounted the events of Redcliffe—the submission of the mages to Tevinter, Magister Alexius’s manipulation of time, Dorian and Felix’s warnings, and the Venatori’s unsettling fixation on her—Cullen listened intently. His hands rested over hers as he absorbed every word, his frown deepening with each revelation.

    “Maker… Ari…” he murmured when she finished, his voice barely above a whisper. “This is worse than we ever anticipated. If they’re after you—”

    “They’ll come for me whether I go back or not,” she interrupted, her voice resolute despite the weariness in her tone. “Hiding isn’t an option. And Cullen… this is my home. I’ve fought too hard for it, for Ferelden, to let Tevinter magisters stake a claim here. I won’t run.”

    Cullen’s heart twisted at the determination in her voice, the fire in her eyes warring with the exhaustion etched into her every movement. “I understand,” he said after a moment, his voice quiet but firm. “But we’ll face this together. You don’t have to do it alone.”

    Ariana offered him a tired but grateful smile. “I know. Thank you, Cullen.”

    When her head dipped slightly, and her responses slowed, he realized she was fighting to stay awake. Before she could protest, he reached out, steadying her.

    “Come on,” he said gently, his voice softening. “You need rest.”

    She didn’t argue as he lifted her into his arms, her head falling against his shoulder as sleep claimed her. He carried her back to her quarters, the weight of her exhaustion heavier in his mind than in his arms.

    Tucking her into bed, he lingered for a moment, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Rest, Ari,” he murmured. “I’ll do everything I can to keep you safe.”

    As he closed the door softly behind him, his resolve hardened. The dangers they faced were overwhelming, but the thought of losing her was unthinkable. Whatever came next, he would face it head-on—for her. But the fear gnawed at him—no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he might not be able to protect her from this.

    ~~~

    Ariana woke to the unfamiliar sensation of feeling… rested. The haze of exhaustion that had clung to her for days seemed to have lifted, if only slightly. She blinked slowly, her gaze adjusting to the soft morning light filtering through her quarters. The warmth of the blankets wrapped around her offered a rare comfort, and for a brief moment, she allowed herself to just be.

    Fragments of the previous evening drifted through her mind. She remembered arriving at Haven, the heavy weight of her report spilling out as Cullen listened intently. She remembered his concern, the steady way he’d guided her through the chaos in her thoughts. But after that? Nothing.

    Her brow furrowed, and she rubbed at her temple. She couldn’t remember leaving his side or even how she’d ended up in her quarters. There was a vague memory of warmth, a sense of safety that hadn’t been hers to feel in a long time.

    A soft creak of the door interrupted her thoughts. Ariana turned her head just as Isabel entered, balancing a tray in her hands. The scent of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the room, and Ariana’s lips quirked into a faint smile.

    “You’re still in bed, child?” Isabel teased, setting the tray down with practiced ease. Her tone was light, but there was an edge of motherly disapproval beneath it.

    Ariana stretched, her limbs sluggish as she sat up against the headboard. “What time is it?”

    “Almost mid-morning,” Isabel replied with an exaggerated sigh, though the warmth in her eyes belied her mock exasperation. “You’ve been asleep since shortly after dusk yesterday.”

    “I don’t even remember coming to bed,” Ariana admitted, running a hand through her hair.

    “Oh, you didn’t come to bed,” Isabel said, her smirk widening as she sat on the edge of the bed. “Cullen carried you here.”

    Ariana blinked, her face heating slightly. “He… carried me?” The memory flickered faintly—his arms, his steady voice murmuring something she couldn’t quite recall.

    “Yes,” Isabel said, clearly enjoying the moment. “Haven is positively alive with rumors now, you know. Moonlit strolls, late-night dinners… it’s quite the tale.”

    Ariana groaned, burying her face in her hands. “Oh, Maker…”

    Isabel chuckled, her eyes sparkling. “Come now, don’t pretend you’re surprised. This is a small town. People talk.”

    “I told him this would happen,” Ariana muttered, peeking out from between her fingers.

    “Did you now?” Isabel teased, raising a brow. “And what did he say?”

    Ariana sighed, dropping her hands. “He said, ‘Let them talk.’” She hesitated, her voice softening. “At the time, I thought it was nothing. But now…”

    “Now?” Isabel prompted, her tone gentle.

    Ariana hesitated again, her gaze drifting to the window. “Now… I don’t know. I didn’t want to hope for anything, but…” She trailed off, shaking her head.

    “But you do,” Isabel finished for her, her expression softening.

    Ariana didn’t reply, but the faint smile on her lips spoke volumes. Maybe, just maybe, they were finding their way back to each other. And in the chaos of everything else, that fragile thread of hope made it all feel slightly more bearable.

    The knock at the door startled them both. “Come,” Ariana called, setting her coffee aside.

    The door creaked open, and Michael stepped inside, his presence as steady as always. But the grim look on his face immediately set Ariana on edge.

    “Michael,” she greeted, rising from the bed. “I thought you were still in the Hinterlands.”

    “I was,” he replied, his tone clipped. “But we need to talk, Ari. The Inquisition leadership may wish to hear this as well.”

    Ariana’s smile faded, her posture straightening as the weight of his words settled over her. “Michael… what’s going on?”

    He stepped further into the room, his expression grim. “We found where the Templars went.”

    The words sent a chill through her, and she felt Isabel’s gaze shift toward her, filled with quiet concern. Ariana’s hand instinctively moved to her hip, where her dagger usually rested, as though readying herself for the fight to come.

    “Very well,” she said at last, her voice steady. “Let me get dressed.”

    Michael nodded, his eyes lingering on her for a moment before he stepped back toward the door.

    As he left, Ariana exchanged a glance with Isabel, who offered her a reassuring smile. “Whatever it is, you’ll handle it,” Isabel said simply.

    Ariana exhaled, nodding. “Let’s hope so,” she murmured.

    Her mind churned as she moved to dress, the brief respite of hope she’d felt moments ago now buried beneath the weight of whatever news Michael had brought. But even as the tension settled in her chest, she couldn’t help but think of Cullen’s steady presence. Whatever was coming, she wouldn’t face it alone.

    ~~~

    The war room felt suffocating, the weight of too many unsolved problems pressing down like a stormcloud ready to break. Cullen stood near the map table, his arms crossed tightly over his chest as he struggled to focus on the discussion. His eyes flicked to Ariana, and his concern deepened. She still carried the weariness from her journey, but her stance remained steady, her gaze sharp as she listened to Michael’s report.

    Michael’s voice cut through the heavy air. “We’ve had new recruits, Templars, who’ve shared information. The Order has retreated to Therinfal Redoubt.”

    Cassandra’s brow furrowed, her tone skeptical. “Therinfal Redoubt? That fortress has been abandoned for decades. Why would they choose it?”

    Michael’s response was grim. “Because the Lord Seeker has taken permanent command of the Order. The recruits say he’s becoming… unstable.”

    Cullen’s chest tightened as he processed the words. Another leader in a position of unchecked power, another figure whose erratic behavior could lead to ruin. It felt all too familiar. He forced himself to speak. “What do you mean by unstable?”

    Michael’s expression hardened, and his gaze flicked to Ariana. “He’s obsessed with meeting her.”

    The room fell into a brief, tense silence. Cullen’s jaw clenched so tightly he thought his teeth might crack. Why did everything seem to circle back to her? The Breach, Alexius, the Venatori, and now the Lord Seeker. He told himself it was because she bore the mark—the one thing capable of closing the rifts—but a darker thought lingered at the edges of his mind. Was she a target because she was their best chance of stopping this madness? Or was it something more sinister?

    Ariana tilted her head, her tone laced with cautious humor. “Well, that’s… flattering. Did he happen to mention why?”

    “Not specifically,” Michael replied, his frustration clear. “But the recruits fear he’s planning something drastic.”

    Cullen shifted uncomfortably, every instinct screaming that this was a trap. He wanted to shout at her, to tell her to stay far away from both Alexius and the Lord Seeker, but he held his tongue as the debate spiraled. Michael argued against engaging the Templars directly, while Cassandra and Ariana debated the immediate threat posed by the mages and Venatori in Redcliffe.

    When Ariana insisted they confront Alexius first, Cullen’s composure frayed. “Redcliffe Castle is one of the most defensible fortresses in Ferelden,” he said sharply. “If you go in there, you’ll die. And we’ll lose the only means we have of closing the rifts. I won’t allow it.”

    The words left his mouth before he could stop them, and the moment they hung in the air, he saw her expression harden. Her brow arched, and her voice turned cutting. “Well, so long as we don’t lose sight of our priorities…”

    Guilt hit him like a blow to the chest. “Ariana…” he began, but the conversation had already moved on, Michael and Leliana now arguing the tactical implications of Alexius’s magic.

    Cullen barely heard them, his focus locked on her. He hadn’t meant it that way, hadn’t meant to reduce her to the mark she bore. But how could he explain that? How could he tell her that every risk she took felt like a dagger in his chest, that the thought of losing her was unbearable?

    “The Rangers have been defending Ferelden for years,” Ariana said, her tone steady but fierce. “I’m not leaving Redcliffe to a Tevinter Magister, no matter what. If the Inquisition can’t move against them, the Rangers will.”

    Her conviction left no room for argument, but it only deepened Cullen’s frustration. He admired her resolve—he always had—but it clashed so painfully with his need to protect her.

    The tension in the room reached a breaking point just as the doors swung open. Dorian entered with his usual confidence, his smirk lighting up the room in a way that grated on Cullen’s nerves almost immediately.

    “Fortunately,” Dorian announced, “you’ll have help.” His gaze lingered on Ariana, and Cullen’s irritation grew.

    “Would you look at that,” Ariana quipped, her tone lighter than it had been all morning. “The Tevinter mage who isn’t a Magister. Come to my rescue again?”

    Dorian grinned, approaching her with a flourish. “How could I resist rescuing such a beautiful woman? And you’re not just any woman—you’re the woman.”

    Cullen’s grip on the edge of the map table tightened as Dorian took her hand and kissed it theatrically. He told himself it was nothing more that some noble’s theatrical flare. And yet…

    “Dorian,” Ariana said with a soft laugh, tilting her head, “I’m beginning to think you just enjoy the drama.”

    “Guilty as charged,” Dorian replied smoothly. “But you’ll find my skills indispensable, darling.”

    Cullen cleared his throat, his voice cool. “If we’re done with the introductions, perhaps we could focus on the task at hand.”

    Dorian didn’t miss a beat, turning to Cullen with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Of course, Commander. Your spies will never get past Alexius’s magic without my help. So if you’re going after him, I’m coming along.”

    Cullen’s patience was nearing its limit, but he forced himself to nod. “Very well. If we’re to go forward with this, we’ll need to prepare immediately.” His gaze shifted to Ariana, and his voice softened. “It’s dangerous, and you’ll be the one in the most peril. Are you certain?”

    Ariana met his gaze, her eyes steady and unwavering. “I’m certain,” she said simply. “Let’s go.”

    As she left the war room, Dorian at her side, Cullen remained behind, watching her retreating figure with a mix of admiration and unease. The sting of her earlier words lingered, and the sight of her laughing with Dorian didn’t help. He clenched his fists, forcing himself to focus on the strategy ahead.

    How am I supposed to protect her when she insists on throwing herself into danger? The question circled his mind, louder than all the others. He reminded himself that all he could do was mobilize all the resources at his disposal to ensure her safety as best he could in situations like this. He only hoped it would be enough.

    ~~~

    Leliana stood quietly at the edge of the war room, her sharp eyes tracking every flicker of movement as the room emptied. The tension left behind was palpable, settling like a weight on the stone walls. Cullen remained rooted in place near the map table, his posture rigid, his fists tight at his sides.

    His frustration was written in every tense line of his body, his gaze fixed on the door Ariana had walked through moments earlier. It was clear to Leliana that this wasn’t just about strategy or safety—it never had been.

    “Leliana,” Cullen said abruptly, his tone sharper than usual as he turned to face her. “I want every scrap of information you can find on this… ‘Lord Pavus.’ His motivations, his loyalties, whether he can be trusted. Everything.”

    Leliana raised an eyebrow, hiding her amusement beneath a mask of calm. “Dorian Pavus? He’s well-known in Tevinter circles, as I’m sure you’ve gathered. A powerful mage, well-educated, and something of a rebel within his own homeland.”

    Cullen crossed his arms, his scowl deepening. “Known for what, exactly?”

    Leliana allowed herself a faint smile. “For many things, none of which seem to align with Alexius or the Venatori. He’s no stranger to controversy, but not the kind you’re thinking of, Commander.”

    Cullen’s eyes narrowed, his skepticism unwavering. “I won’t allow harm to come to the Herald because of some… stranger who walked in here uninvited.”

    “Uninvited, perhaps,” Leliana said smoothly, “but not unwelcome. Ariana seems to trust him.”

    Cullen’s jaw tightened at her words, the muscle in his cheek twitching slightly. “Trust is earned, not freely given. Until it is, I’ll ensure precautions are taken. Assign soldiers to follow them. Watch him closely. Make sure no harm comes to the Herald.”

    Leliana exchanged a glance with Josephine, who had remained silent but observant at the map table. The ambassador’s lips pressed into a thoughtful line, her expression a mix of amusement and concern.

    “Cullen,” Josephine began gently, her voice calm and even, “if the Herald trusts him enough to take him along, perhaps we should consider extending the same courtesy? Dorian Pavus has already proven himself useful.”

    Cullen’s gaze flicked to her, his frustration palpable. “Useful isn’t the same as trustworthy. And Ariana—” He hesitated, his voice faltering as if catching himself. “The Herald is in enough danger as it is without adding an unknown Tevinter mage to this.”

    “Commander,” she said, her voice edged with amusement but underpinned by a quiet seriousness. “Your protectiveness is admirable, but I can’t help but notice how much of your ire seems directed at Dorian specifically. Perhaps we should examine why.”

    Cullen’s scowl deepened, his fists clenching tighter at his sides. “This isn’t about… him. It’s about her safety.”

    “Is it?” Leliana pressed, her tone sharp but not unkind. “You’ve never reacted this strongly to our other allies. You’re proposing to assign soldiers to watch a single man—a man who has no army, no visible allegiance to Alexius, and no means of harming Ariana without jeopardizing himself. It feels rather… personal.”

    Cullen opened his mouth to respond, but Josephine interjected with a soft sigh, her voice soothing. “Cullen, we understand your concerns, truly. But the Herald is capable of making her own judgments. If she feels Dorian Pavus can be trusted, perhaps we should give her the benefit of the doubt.”

    Cullen’s expression hardened, though his eyes betrayed his inner turmoil. “I’ll be the judge of what’s a threat to her safety,” he muttered, his voice low and resolute.

    Josephine gave Leliana a pointed glance, and Leliana decided to let the matter rest—for now. “Of course, Commander,” she said smoothly, though her smile betrayed her thoughts.

    Without another word, Cullen turned on his heel and strode toward the door, his movements stiff with barely contained frustration. The door shut with a resounding thud, leaving Leliana and Josephine in the silence that followed.

    “Well,” Leliana said, folding her arms and allowing her smile to grow. “It seems the Herald has achieved her goal.”

    Josephine arched an elegant brow, her expression thoughtful. “Do you think she did it intentionally? Flirting with Dorian, knowing how Cullen might react?”

    Leliana chuckled softly, shaking her head. “Perhaps. Or perhaps it was a reaction to Cullen’s own poorly chosen words earlier.” Her smile faded slightly, and she added, “She did seem hurt when he spoke of her death as merely a loss for the rifts.”

    Josephine sighed, her hands clasping neatly in front of her. “Poor man. He doesn’t know how to express his feelings for her without making it about duty or strategy.”

    “Poor woman,” Leliana countered. “She’s just as lost in this as he is. And yet…” She trailed off, her gaze flicking to the closed door.

    “And yet?” Josephine prompted.

    Leliana’s smile returned, though it was softer now, tinged with sympathy. “They’ll figure it out eventually. Or they’ll drive each other mad in the process.”

    Josephine’s laughter was quiet, but genuine. “I suppose we’ll have to wait and see which it will be.”

    With that, they returned to their work, though both women carried the weight of what they had witnessed. Ariana and Cullen’s bond, so fragile and fraught, was vital—not just for them, but for the Inquisition. And both women silently hoped it would survive the trials to come.

    ~~~

    The road to Redcliffe stretched before them, the warm afternoon light casting long shadows across the dirt path. The weight of the mission ahead loomed heavy in Ariana’s mind, but the easy rhythm of conversation with Dorian managed to chip away at her tension. His presence, so irreverent yet strangely genuine, felt like a reprieve amidst the chaos.

    “So,” Ariana began, casting a sidelong glance at him, “what exactly brings a charming Tevinter mage to Ferelden of all places? I can’t imagine the weather was a selling point.”

    Dorian smirked, his stride as effortless as his demeanor. “Ah, Ferelden. A land of mud, overcast skies, and… surprisingly good ale. It’s the perfect place for a black sheep like me.”

    Ariana arched an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. “Black sheep? You? I find that hard to believe.”

    “Believe it,” Dorian replied, his tone laced with melodramatic flair. “I am the scion of House Pavus, a product of generations of careful breeding, and the repository of its hopes and dreams—political alliances, magical mastery, an endless list of dull obligations. And naturally, I despised it all. I decided I’d rather irritate my father than play the obedient son.”

    Ariana chuckled softly, a genuine laugh that felt strange after the weight of the last few days. “So you abandoned your destiny?”

    “Oh no, I rejected it,” Dorian corrected, wagging a finger as though admonishing her. “Subtle difference. My father wanted me to be another pawn in his game, and I refused. Tevinter doesn’t have nearly enough self-aware mages, you see.”

    “That must’ve gone over well,” Ariana teased, her smile lingering.

    Dorian shrugged with theatrical nonchalance. “Let’s just say the family dinners became much quieter after I left. And you, Lady Trevelyan? What’s your excuse for wandering the wilds of Ferelden instead of doing… whatever it is noble daughters do?”

    Ariana felt the familiar pang of her past creeping up but brushed it aside with practiced ease. “I ran away from home. My family thought arranging a marriage for me was a good idea. I disagreed.”

    “You ran away over marriage?” Dorian asked, arching an elegant eyebrow. “How scandalous. Did you at least leave a dramatic note?”

    “Actually, I did,” Ariana said, smirking. “I left after the Summerday ball, in the middle of the night. A note for my father and my would-be fiancé, then I was gone before anyone noticed.”

    Dorian’s expression lit with delight. “A note? How delightfully cryptic. Let me guess—‘I refuse to be shackled, good luck finding me?’”

    “Something like that,” Ariana replied with a chuckle. “It was polite enough for my father, and maybe a little more understanding for my would-be fiancé. He was my best friend my entire childhood.”

    “Ah, diplomacy,” Dorian said approvingly. “Even in rebellion, you keep it classy. I’m impressed.”

    Ariana shook her head, smiling faintly. “What about you? If you’d stayed in Tevinter, what would your life have looked like?”

    Dorian’s grin faltered slightly, replaced by a wry, self-deprecating smile. “Oh, that’s easy. I’d likely be married by now to some unlucky girl from a powerful family. We’d live in luxurious despair, despising each other while hosting elaborate dinners and pretending otherwise. All for the sake of politics, of course.”

    Ariana winced. “That sounds… awful.”

    “Oh, it would’ve been,” Dorian said lightly, though there was a sharpness beneath his words. “But at least I would’ve had excellent wine to drown my sorrows.”

    “And the girl?” Ariana pressed, raising an eyebrow.

    “She’d have all the wine she could want too,” Dorian replied smoothly, though his tone softened. “I’m not a monster. But no, that life wasn’t for me. I’d rather irritate my father and forge my own path than be a puppet in someone else’s game.”

    Ariana’s smile faded slightly as she regarded him, her tone quieter. “Well, for what it’s worth, I think you made the right choice.”

    Dorian looked at her, his grin softening into something warmer. “And what about you, my dear? Was your rebellion worth it?”

    Ariana hesitated, the weight of her choices brushing against the edges of her thoughts. But then she smiled, her voice steady. “Absolutely.”

    “So now, here you are,” Ariana said with a flourish, “helping the Inquisition instead of living the dream in Minrathous?”

    “Call it a strong moral compass,” Dorian quipped, though his voice grew softer. “Or perhaps a desperate attempt to salvage what’s left of my homeland’s dignity.”

    Ariana studied him for a moment, her expression thoughtful. “Well, for what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re here. Even if it’s just for your sharp tongue.”

    Dorian’s grin returned, teasing. “Careful, my dear. Flattery will get you everywhere.”

    “Will it?” Ariana teased back, her tone playful. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

    The banter flowed easily between them, each quip and shared laugh building an unexpected camaraderie. Ariana couldn’t help but notice how natural it felt, how their shared disdain for the roles forced upon them created an easy connection.

    And while the road ahead was uncertain, for now, she let herself enjoy the company of someone who understood the defiance of choosing a different path.