8 – 9 Cloudreach 9:34
The following morning, Ariana sat at her desk, the thin parchment resting between her fingertips, the words etched upon it seemingly heavier than the weight of the ink itself.
“Do what you must. Stay in the shadows.
-Dorothea”
She had expected this. From the moment she penned her letter to the Divine, she had known the response would be little more than permission to do what she had already resolved to do. Yet, seeing the words in front of her, their brevity so stark and unflinching, she couldn’t deny the sinking feeling that settled in her chest.
However, what was also painfully clear from the note was that they would get no help from the Chantry at this point. Stay in the shadows. “She makes it sound so easy,” Ariana murmured to herself, her voice tight with frustration.
Her gaze dropped to the paper, her fingers tightening on its edges before carefully setting it down. She closed her eyes for a moment, steadying herself. The worst-case scenario was no longer a looming possibility—it was here, tangible, staring back at her in the Divine’s measured handwriting.
The room around her seemed quieter, the distant murmur of the house muffled as her thoughts began to race. This was no longer about mere rumors or speculation. It was real. The Rangers, her network, her decisions—they were all that stood between the vulnerable and the inevitable chaos that seemed to be encroaching on Kirkwall and beyond.
Do what you must.
The words echoed in her mind, an affirmation of the responsibility she bore. Yet, for all her resolve, the reality of what lay ahead sent a chill down her spine.
The creak of the door was soft, but Ariana knew who it was without looking. Isabel entered the room quietly, a steaming cup of tea in her hands. She paused when she saw Ariana’s expression, her usually steady gaze faltering as concern flickered across her face.
“Child?” Isabel asked softly, setting the cup down with care. “What is it?”
Ariana opened her eyes, the faintest hint of weariness in their depths. She gestured to the letter, her voice quiet. “The Divine… has responded.”
Isabel reached for the letter, her eyes narrowing as they scanned the short message. A faint sigh escaped her lips, the weight of the words not lost on her. “I see,” she murmured, her voice steady but sympathetic.
Ariana let out a shaky breath, her hands falling to her lap. “It is worse than I thought. She has effectively told me to prepare for the worst—to do what is necessary.”
Isabel rested a comforting hand on her shoulder, her grip firm and grounding. “You have faced worse odds, Ariana. This is not the first time you have been tasked with the impossible, and it will not be the last.”
“Fixing ‘all the things’ in Ferelden was one thing,” she said bitterly. “There were no shadows. Rebuilding a town didn’t defy anyone. But here? Stay in the shadows.” She laughed without humor. “As if this is just another piece in her grand game.” For a moment, she wondered if that’s all she had ever been—a piece to be moved until sacrificed, all for a larger, unseen strategy.
“Then you will adapt,” Isabel said firmly, her voice cutting through Ariana’s rising anxiety with practiced ease. “Because that is what you do, child. You adapt, you endure, and you fight for what is right.”
Ariana nodded, though her mind remained clouded, the letter’s implications swirling in her thoughts like a storm. “The Rangers will need to be more careful than ever now. And the mages… Maker, if Meredith discovers what we are doing—”
For a moment, Ariana’s gaze softened, gratitude flickering in her hazel-green eyes. Isabel’s unwavering confidence in her was a lifeline, the steady presence she often relied upon when everything else felt unmoored.
She picked up the letter again, folding it neatly with deliberate care and tucking it away into a small lockbox on her desk. “Stay in the shadows,” she repeated softly. “It seems that is the only choice left.”
Isabel nodded, a faint smile gracing her lips as she squeezed Ariana’s shoulder. “And you’ll do it well. You always have.”
The soft creak of the library door interrupted them. Ariana’s head turned sharply, and her heart skipped a beat as Frederick appeared in the doorway. His brow furrowed slightly as his gaze darted between the two women, picking up on the faint tension lingering in the air.
“Is everything all right?” he asked, his tone light, though his sharp grey eyes betrayed his curiosity. “You both look like you’re plotting something dramatic.”
Ariana immediately schooled her expression into something calmer, her posture shifting as if shaking off the moment. She offered a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Just business,” she said with an airy tone, brushing her hands lightly along the desk. “A letter that needed sorting.”
Frederick’s eyes lingered on her for a moment longer, his expression searching as if trying to read between the lines. “Business,” he echoed skeptically, though his tone remained teasing. “Why do I get the feeling that you’re being purposefully vague?”
Isabel straightened, stepping back with a pointed glance at Ariana as if to silently say, this is yours to handle. “Because Ariana is purposefully vague,” Isabel replied dryly, a hint of humor easing the tension. She offered Frederick a polite smile. “I’ll fetch you both something to eat. No plotting on empty stomachs.”
Frederick chuckled as Isabel disappeared down the hall, leaving him alone with Ariana. He stepped further into the room, his gaze landing briefly on her desk before meeting her eyes again. “You’re not going to tell me what that was really about, are you?”
Ariana shook her head, leaning back slightly in her chair. “Not right now, Fred,” she said softly but firmly. “It’s just… things I need to sort out.”
He frowned, concern flickering across his face. “Does it have to do with what happened in the city? The Qunari? The injuries?”
Her smile faltered briefly, her fingers brushing absently over the edge of the desk. “Partially,” she admitted, her voice quieter now. “The Qunari uprising… it changed everything. The chaos, the desperation… Maker, Fred, I saw things I’d rather not remember.” She paused, her gaze distant. “And yes, I got caught in the middle of it. Too close to the fighting.”
Frederick’s brow creased further. “Ari—”
“Don’t,” she cut in gently, holding up a hand. “I’m fine now. Truly. And I promise, it’s nothing you need to worry about.”
Frederick’s gaze lingered on her for a long moment, the concern still evident in his expression. Finally, he sighed, giving her a small, reluctant smile. “I know better than to press you when you’ve made up your mind.”
“At least you should know better,” she replied with a faint grin, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly.
Frederick tilted his head, his tone lighter again. “For what it’s worth, you’re terrible at pretending you’re not up to something. You’ve always been the worst liar.”
Ariana laughed softly, shaking her head. “Only with you because you still let me get away with it.”
“For now,” he quipped, though the sincerity in his tone didn’t go unnoticed. “But if you need anything—anything at all—you’ll tell me, won’t you?”
Ariana’s expression softened, her gaze meeting his as she nodded. “I will,” she promised, though a part of her doubted she’d ever let him carry that burden.
Frederick seemed satisfied with that, leaning back against the nearby bookshelf with his easy, familiar smile. “Good. Now, let’s see what Isabel has prepared. If I remember correctly, she makes a mean lemon cake.”
Ariana chuckled, the heaviness in her chest lifting, if only slightly. “She does,” she replied, pushing herself up from the chair. “And you’ll owe me if I let you have the last slice.”
Frederick grinned, falling into step beside her as they left the library together. For now, the shadow war could wait—just a little longer.
~~~
Ariana paced the length of the library, the Divine’s letter tucked securely in her pocket. The words weighed on her like chains, each step echoing her growing sense of entrapment. What if she’d been naive to think the Divine would ever act? Was she just a pawn, moved in a game far beyond her control? The thought sent a cold knot of anger and doubt tightening in her chest. The words felt like they burned there, a constant reminder of the dangerous path ahead. She had sent for Hawke and Varric as soon as the weight of the message settled. This wasn’t something she could manage alone.
When Hawke and Varric arrived, the atmosphere in the estate was heavy. Isabel led them into the library, where Ariana stood by the table, a map of Kirkwall and its surrounding areas spread out, various notes and markings scattered across its surface. She turned to greet them, her expression serious but calm.
“Pup,” Varric said, his tone light despite the tension in the room. “This must be something big if you’re calling us here so early.”
Ariana offered a faint smile but didn’t return the jest. Instead, she retrieved the letter from her pocket and handed it to Hawke. “Here,” she said simply, her voice steady.
Hawke’s eyes scanned the brief message, her brows knitting together as she passed it to Varric. “Do what you must,” she murmured, her tone dry but carrying an edge of understanding. “That’s ominous.”
Varric read it next, his expression darkening slightly as he placed the letter back on the table. “She’s leaving it all on you, huh?” he said. “No guidance, no resources, just… good luck out there?”
Ariana nodded, leaning against the edge of the table, though her mind remained clouded. Every word, every plan etched onto the map felt like a thread of a web she could no longer untangle. She had resolved to act, but the weight of knowing she might lead others into danger never fully left her. “Seems like it. But we don’t have time to dwell on what we don’t have. We have to move.”
“What’s the plan, then?” Hawke asked, crossing her arms as she leaned back against a chair.
Ariana gestured to the map. “Same plan we’ve been working, but now we need to start being faster and getting more people out. It also means we’ll need to start intercepting any mage transports into Kirkwall. Keep directing any mages you come across to the warehouse. The Rangers have it set up as a safe haven. From there, we can smuggle them out of Kirkwall to safety.”
Hawke raised an eyebrow. “And if Meredith catches wind of this?”
“She can’t,” Ariana said firmly. “We stay in the shadows. No one can know this is connected to the Rangers, or to me. If anyone asks, they’re just independent sympathizers.”
Varric nodded, his fingers tapping idly on the edge of the table. “We should also alert our contacts in the mage underground. Let them know we’ll need to get better at this.”
“I was hoping you’d bring that up,” Ariana said, glancing at Hawke. “Can you two handle that?”
Hawke considered the question for a moment, her gaze drifting over the map. “We’ll talk to Anders. He should be able to coordinate with them.”
“Good,” Ariana said, her tone resolute. “The more coordination we have, the better chance we have of avoiding detection.”
Hawke straightened, meeting Ariana’s gaze. “You’re taking a big risk, you know.”
“So are you,” Ariana replied. “But we’ve already seen what Meredith is capable of. If we don’t act, innocent people will suffer.”
There was a moment of silence as the weight of the situation settled over the room. Varric broke it with a soft sigh. “Well, Hawke, it looks like we’re getting ready for war after all.”
“Thank you,” Ariana said sincerely, her voice quiet but filled with gratitude. “Both of you.”
Hawke gave her a small smile. “Just promise me one thing.”
Ariana felt her curiosity stir, her gaze narrowing slightly as her mind raced to piece together Hawke’s cryptic words. “What’s that?” she asked, the question tinged with both suspicion and a flicker of concern.
Hawke’s smile widened, though there was a sharpness to her tone. “If this all goes sideways, don’t get yourself killed. I need someone to share the blame with.”
Ariana chuckled softly, a small relief breaking through the tension. “Well… look at it this way. If I die, you won’t need to share that Champion of Kirkwall title.”
Hawke’s laugh was quick and full, her tone playfully sharp as she leaned against the back of a chair. “Oh, didn’t you hear? Apparently, we’ll have to duel for the title.”
Varric’s voice cut in smoothly, his usual swagger infused with mock seriousness. “For dramatic effect, naturally. I’ll make sure to pen the story so both of you look good. Can’t have the readers picking sides, after all.”
Ariana shook her head, her lips curving into a wry smile. “You’d make it sound like we battled on the rooftops in a storm, wouldn’t you?”
Varric grinned, tapping his chin as if deep in thought. “Hmm, now that you mention it, Pup, a thunderstorm could really set the scene. Adds a touch of gravitas to the whole affair.”
Hawke raised an eyebrow, her smirk widening. “And who wins this epic duel, then?”
“Depends who’s buying the drinks that night,” Varric replied smoothly.
The banter rippled through the room like a calming tide, momentarily pulling Ariana from her thoughts. Yet beneath her faint smile, the weight of her responsibility simmered, a constant reminder that this fragile levity could shatter at any moment. Ariana allowed herself a brief moment to breathe, her gaze flicking to the map spread across the table, the lines and notes a stark reminder of the work ahead.
Hawke’s tone softened, though her teasing edge remained. “In all seriousness, Ari, don’t get yourself killed. I like having you around, and besides… someone has to keep Varric in check.”
Ariana’s expression gentled, her eyes meeting Hawke’s with quiet determination. “The feeling’s mutual. Just try not to get us both killed, alright?”
Varric raised his hands in mock surrender. “Now, now, let’s not get sentimental. We’ve got a shadow war to run here, and I’d rather it not end with a tragic finale. Too many tears, not enough drinks.”
“Noted,” Ariana replied, her voice lighter as she reached for her notes. “Let’s focus on keeping this as tear-free as possible, shall we?”
Before any more could be said, the sound of footsteps approaching made all three of them pause. The door creaked open, and Frederick appeared in the entryway, his brow furrowed slightly as he took in the scene. “What’s all this? More scheming?” he asked, his tone casual but underpinned by curiosity.
Varric and Hawke exchanged quick, wary glances, and Ariana straightened, stepping forward as if to intercept him. “Nothing to concern yourself with, Fred. Just… business.”
Frederick tilted his head, his sharp grey eyes flicking between Ariana, Varric, and Hawke. “Business? With the Champion of Kirkwall? I’m not blind, Ari.”
Ariana exhaled softly, her posture relaxing just a little. “It’s complicated, Fred. That’s all.”
Frederick crossed his arms, his expression darkening slightly. “Is it as complicated as the rumors I’ve been hearing?”
The room fell silent for a beat. Hawke and Varric stiffened almost imperceptibly, both of them glancing at Ariana for direction. Ariana’s brow furrowed slightly, her tone cautious as she asked, “What rumors?”
Frederick took another step into the room, his gaze steady. “I’ve heard disturbing things about the Kirkwall Circle. It’s part of the reason I came.”
Varric leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing. “What kind of disturbing things?”
Frederick glanced at him before turning his focus back to Ariana. “The Knight-Commander of the Markham Circle reached out to me before I left. He’s an old friend, and… he’s worried. Deeply. He said there are whispers about Meredith’s methods—rumors that the Rite of Tranquility is being overused. That it’s being used as a weapon.”
Ariana stilled, her heart sinking at the confirmation of what she already knew. This wasn’t just about saving lives anymore; it was about standing against a force far more corrupt than she had dared to admit. Her pulse quickened, and she felt the sting of bitter frustration—both at Meredith and at herself for not acting sooner. Yet to hear that others in the Templar Order were concerned was something else altogether. She exchanged a brief look with Hawke and Varric, the unspoken question hanging heavy in the air.
Frederick, clearly unsettled, continued. “The Markham Circle is small, you know that. It has no political weight, no real influence. The Knight-Commander there believes Meredith’s focus isn’t on protecting mages but on controlling them completely—breaking them. He’s afraid to investigate any further.”
Ariana’s gaze lingered on Frederick, searching his face for any hint of doubt or exaggeration. She wanted to believe they weren’t fighting a losing battle, but each word he spoke reminded her how deep the shadows had grown. Could they truly face this and survive? There was none. She turned her attention to Varric and Hawke, who both seemed to reach the same conclusion she had.
Finally, Hawke broke the silence. “And what do you think, Frederick?”
Frederick frowned, his voice quiet but resolute. “I think if half of what I’ve heard is true, Meredith is a monster. And someone has to stop her.”
Ariana let out a quiet breath, her decision already made. She glanced at Varric and Hawke again, seeing the understanding in their eyes before turning back to Frederick. “Fred… this isn’t just gossip. It’s worse than you know.”
He blinked, surprise flickering across his face. “You’re saying it’s true?”
Ariana nodded slowly. “It’s worse. We’ve seen it firsthand.”
Frederick looked at her, his expression softening with concern. “Ari, if you’re in danger—”
“I’m not,” she cut in gently, though her tone carried the weight of her resolve. “But the mages are. And I can’t ignore it.”
Frederick studied her for a long moment, his eyes searching hers. “You’re in the middle of this, aren’t you?”
“We are,” Ariana admitted quietly, motioning towards Hawke and Varric. “And now, you’re part of it, too.”
He let out a small breath, his lips quirking into a faint, resigned smile. “Well, I’ve never been one to sit on the sidelines, have I?”
Varric snorted, shaking his head. “Looks like you picked a fine time to visit, my Lord.”
Frederick’s grin grew, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Better late than never.”
Ariana stepped forward, her expression softening. “Fred… you can still walk away from this. I’ll understand.”
He shook his head firmly. “No. I told you, if you ever need me, I’m here. You’ll need allies, Ari. And I’ll be one of them.”
Hawke smirked, arms crossed. “I like him already.”
Ariana smiled faintly, warmth flickering in her chest as she looked between them. For the first time in days, she felt a spark of hope. They weren’t alone in this. Not anymore.
~~~
Ariana had chosen her outfit carefully that day—a deep sapphire gown with elegant tailoring that hugged her figure. The high collar and subtle embroidery of the fabric spoke of noble refinement without being ostentatious. The soft shimmer of the material caught the sunlight as she walked, her steps steady but light as she made her way through the cobbled streets of Hightown.
She had hoped a stroll might help clear her thoughts. She asked Frederick for his company, needing someone to talk to, someone whose perspective she trusted. The Divine’s letter, the mages, the Rangers—it all weighed heavily on her.
“You said the Markham Circle is small,” Ariana began softly, careful to keep her voice low as they walked side by side. “But can you find out if they have room to take in mages?”
Frederick quirked an eyebrow, glancing at her with curiosity. “Of course, but why do you ask?”
Ariana let out a faint sigh. “Part of our task, if we confirm the suspicions about the Rite of Tranquility, is to divert mages bound for Kirkwall elsewhere. But not all of them want to become apostates—some just want to be safe.” She let her words hang in the air for a moment, glancing at him. “It would be easier if we had Circles willing to accept mages quietly.”
Frederick’s expression turned thoughtful, his voice measured. “You’re organizing something far bigger than you’re letting on, aren’t you?”
Before she could answer, a sharp voice cut through the hum of Hightown. Ariana felt her stomach twist slightly, her thoughts snapping to attention as her mind raced to interpret the tension in that voice.
“Ariana Trevelyan.”
They turned in unison to find Knight-Commander Meredith standing a few paces behind them, her crimson-lined armor catching the sunlight, making her look more imposing than ever. Her piercing gaze scanned Ariana from head to toe, lingering with calculated scrutiny. There was no attempt at subtlety in her judgment.
Frederick instinctively shifted a half-step closer, placing himself slightly in front of Ariana, his shoulders squaring as if shielding her.
“I wondered how long it would take for our paths to cross,” Meredith continued, her tone clipped.
Ariana’s expression remained neutral, though her back straightened instinctively. “Knight-Commander,” she replied evenly, inclining her head in a gesture that was polite but far from deferential.
Meredith’s sharp eyes lingered on Frederick for only a second before turning back to Ariana. “It has come to my attention that you have been occupying a great deal of the Knight-Captain’s time.”
“I’m certain that any time I’ve occupied has been during his off-duty hours only, Knight-Commander,” Ariana responded calmly despite the frustration that was beginning to settle in her chest.
Meredith held her gaze, unyielding “It has also come to my attention that the Knight-Captain brought you to the Gallows and arranged for you to be tended to by several Circle mages. A careless use of magic caused by his distraction with you.”
“Yes, I’m sure my dying would have been a far more convenient and less careless an act on the Knight-Captain’s part.” Ariana quipped, her tone purposefully light “However, I believe if you have concerns about his actions or his duties–“
“His duties, girl, are of paramount importance—”
“Lady Trevelyan,” Frederick interrupted smoothly, his tone cold and firm, cutting through Meredith’s condescension like a blade. “It is only proper that you address her as such. I am Lord Frederick Decken, son of the Duke Victor Decken of Markham. It is not often I see Templars addressing individuals of noble blood with such… directness.”
Meredith’s gaze flicked to him sharply, clearly unamused, but Frederick stood his ground, his noble poise unwavering.
Ariana glanced at Frederick with the faintest hint of appreciation before continuing, her tone measured but pointed. “If you are concerned about Cullen’s focus on his duties, perhaps you should address that matter with him directly. I am not privy to his assignments.”
The flash of irritation that crossed Meredith’s face was fleeting, but Ariana caught it. Her chest tightened as the weight of Meredith’s words settled in—a subtle but undeniable threat to Cullen, to her, and to everything they were trying to protect. “You would do well to understand the delicate balance in this city,” Meredith said, her voice low and heavy with warning. “There are matters at play here that you cannot begin to comprehend.”
“Oh, I am quite familiar with delicate balances,” Ariana replied, her tone sweetly polite, though her words carried weight. “Speaking of which, has there been any progress in the search for a new Viscount? Surely, the city cannot function properly without civilian leadership.”
Meredith’s expression darkened, though she forced a tight smile. “The current situation requires stability. A change in leadership would be… premature.”
“Curious,” Ariana said, her gaze unwavering. “I was under the impression that the Chantry frowns upon Templars wielding power in civilian matters. I imagine that must make this situation… uncomfortable for you.”
Meredith’s jaw tightened, her composure slipping just a fraction. “I would caution you to tread carefully, Lady Trevelyan. Kirkwall is not a place for outsiders to meddle.”
Frederick interjected, his voice calm but cutting, every word laced with noble authority. “Forgive me, Knight-Commander, but I must remind you that Lady Trevelyan is hardly an outsider. She has resided in Kirkwall for some time now, and as the daughter of one of Ostwick’s most prominent houses, she has every right to concern herself with the city’s wellbeing.”
Meredith’s glare turned icy, but Frederick pressed on, unshaken. Ariana’s tension eased slightly at his calm confidence, but her mind churned, already anticipating the ripple effects of this confrontation. “Moreover, I agree with Lady Trevelyan in this matter. What I have witnessed here is deeply troubling, and I do intend to bring this back to my father in Markham and the noble houses of Ostwick. The other city-states will undoubtedly find it… unsettling to hear that Kirkwall appears to be under what one might call Templar occupation.”
The subtle emphasis on the last words made Meredith’s face flush with barely restrained anger. “You speak of things you do not understand, my Lord.”
“Do I?” Frederick replied smoothly, tilting his head in a way that somehow made the air even heavier. “Or do I speak of matters the Chantry might wish to address before they attract further… scrutiny?”
Meredith’s eyes narrowed, her composure visibly cracking, though she held her silence for a moment longer. Finally, with an abrupt turn, she barked, “Good day, Lady Trevelyan. Lord Decken.”
With that, Meredith spun on her heel and strode off, her crimson-lined cloak snapping behind her like the crack of a whip.
The silence that followed was thick, punctuated only by the whispers of a few nobles lingering nearby who had clearly witnessed the exchange. Ariana felt the weight of their stares, the cold judgment of the court she had long since learned to navigate. But beneath her composed exterior, unease flickered—this exchange would carry far beyond Hightown’s cobbled streets.
Ariana exhaled slowly, tension bleeding from her shoulders as she turned to Frederick. Gratitude flickered in her eyes, but beneath it lay a faint shadow of concern. “That was bold, even for you,” she murmured, her tone light but edged with sincerity. “You didn’t have to do that.”
Frederick shrugged lightly, though there was a quiet resolve in his voice. “Of course I did. Your Knight-Captain ordered me to take care of you,” he joked, “And I meant what I said, Ari. I won’t let you stand alone in this. If I can take this fight into the light, to Markham, to the other city-states… well, that’s one less battle you need to fight from the shadows.”
Ariana’s expression softened, genuine relief breaking through her carefully guarded demeanor. “Thank you, Fred.” Her voice softened, and for a moment, the weight of her burdens lifted. “You don’t know how much it means.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” Frederick said with a small, self-deprecating smile. “I suspect Meredith is already plotting the fastest way to get rid of me.”
Ariana laughed softly, shaking her head. “Just do try to not get yourself killed. I would feel bad about that… and I would miss you.”
They continued walking toward the estate, Ariana aware of the lingering gazes from the nobles they passed. The story would spread like wildfire by the evening—Lady Trevelyan and Lord Decken standing up to the Knight-Commander. Ariana could only hope it wouldn’t come back to bite them.
As they reached the estate, Frederick turned to her again, his expression serious. “She’s dangerous, Ari. You know that, don’t you?”
“I know,” Ariana replied quietly, her gaze steady. “But someone has to stand up to her.”
Frederick studied her for a long moment before nodding, his voice unwavering. “And I’ll be here to make sure you don’t have to do it alone.”
~~~
A sharp knock echoed through Cullen’s quarters as he sat at his desk, buried in the endless reports that came with his station. The flicker of a nearby candle cast shadows over the papers, but his focus had begun to waver. “Enter,” he called, his voice steady despite his growing fatigue.
The door creaked open to reveal a young Templar, his posture rigid and expression tense. He stepped inside, hesitating just long enough to catch Cullen’s attention.
“Knight-Captain,” the Templar began, his tone careful, “there has been an… incident in Hightown. It involved the Knight-Commander, Lady Trevelyan, and Lord Decken.”
Cullen immediately straightened in his chair, his heart skipping a beat at the mention of Ariana. “What happened?” he asked, his voice calm but firm, laced with urgency. “Be specific.”
The Templar’s gaze flickered uncertainly before he continued, his words measured. “The confrontation occurred in full view of several nobles. Knight-Commander Meredith appeared… displeased with Lady Trevelyan’s presence in Hightown and her association with you, and…” the Templar paused, clearly uncomfortable.
“And?” Cullen demanded, annoyance clear on his face.
“And she was displeased that Lady Trevelyan had been brought here to recover from her injuries. The Knight-Commander suggested it was a ‘careless’ use of magic to save Lady Trevelyan’s life. However, Lady Trevelyan and Lord Decken were both… unyielding.”
Cullen clenched his fists. Careless use of magic? The thought infuriated him. Could Meredith really believe he should have let Ariana die that night?
He shook the thought from his mind and leaned forward. “Unyielding?” The single word was a prompt, one that carried the weight of his growing concern.
The Templar nodded, a faint unease coloring his expression. “Meredith questioned Lady Trevelyan’s… influence over you and made it clear she did not approve. Lady Trevelyan, however, insisted that any concerns regarding your duties should be addressed to you directly. She… also pointed out that the Chantry traditionally opposes Templars exerting undue civilian authority, especially in the absence of a Viscount.”
Cullen let out a slow, measured breath. His jaw tightened as the Templar’s account began to solidify the scene in his mind—Meredith’s sharp rebukes, Ariana’s calm but pointed responses, and the tension simmering between them.
“And Lord Decken?” Cullen asked, his tone clipped.
The Templar hesitated again, as though reluctant to recount the full exchange. “Lord Decken stepped in when the Knight-Commander addressed Lady Trevelyan… improperly,” he explained carefully. “He reminded her of Lady Trevelyan’s noble station and made it clear that speaking to her in such a manner was unacceptable.”
The corner of Cullen’s mouth twitched slightly, though he quickly suppressed any sign of amusement. “I see,” he said, gesturing for the Templar to continue.
The young man cleared his throat, clearly choosing his next words with care. “Lord Decken went further, stating that he would report the incident to his father in Markham and to the city-state of Ostwick. He expressed concern that Kirkwall’s governance… or lack thereof, might cause unrest among the Free Marches.”
Cullen sat back, rubbing his temples as the full weight of the situation settled on him. He could almost hear Frederick’s voice, the carefully measured tone of a nobleman wielding influence like a weapon.
“How did Meredith respond to that?” Cullen asked, though he suspected he already knew the answer.
The Templar hesitated, then replied, “The Knight-Commander left abruptly. She was… visibly displeased.”
Visibly displeased. That was an understatement. Cullen exhaled heavily, running a hand through his hair as he stared down at his desk. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention,” he said finally, his tone steady but clipped. “You are dismissed.”
The Templar bowed slightly and left the room, the door clicking shut behind him. Cullen sat in silence for a moment, his thoughts a whirlwind.
Ariana, with her sharp wit and unwavering determination, standing her ground against Meredith—it was both predictable and infuriating. And Frederick’s involvement only complicated matters further. Cullen felt a flicker of pride for them both, though it was overshadowed by the gnawing unease that had begun to settle in his chest.
He knew Meredith too well. She wouldn’t see this as a mere disagreement or even an isolated challenge. She would see it as an affront, a direct threat to her authority. And Meredith did not take threats lightly.
Cullen leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on the flickering candlelight. He wasn’t angry with Ariana—how could he be? She hadn’t sought out this confrontation. Meredith had provoked her. And yet, Cullen couldn’t shake the worry gnawing at the edges of his thoughts.
She stood her ground, but at what cost?
He could no longer deny the pattern. Meredith’s disdain for Ariana wasn’t just personal—it was a symptom of something far larger. She was tightening her grip on Kirkwall, and anyone who stood in her way, mage or otherwise, was a threat to be crushed. If she would call saving a life ‘careless,’ what hope did the mages have of being seen as anything other than tools to be controlled or discarded?
With a weary sigh, Cullen stood. Whatever Meredith’s next move, he needed to be ready—not just for Ariana, but for everyone caught in her shadow.
~~~
Ariana, Frederick, and Isabel sat in the kitchen, their conversation circling through lighter topics before inevitably returning to the day’s events.
Isabel let out a quiet breath, both exasperated and impressed. “Still, you know how these things spread, child. By tomorrow, Hightown will be buzzing, and Cullen will hear of it sooner rather than later.”
“I have never seen a Templar act the way Meredith did…” Frederick said, his tone tinged with confusion. “It seems Markham is right—she’s certainly wielding far more power than is appropriate.”
Ariana leaned back slightly in her chair, exhaling softly. “She took advantage of the Qunari uprising and the Viscount’s death. With no civilian leadership, she’s been free to operate without oversight.”
“That woman knows how to seize opportunities,” Isabel interjected, her tone edged with reluctant acknowledgment. “Her skill in that regard cannot be denied.”
Ariana turned to Frederick, her gaze serious. “Frederick, find out about the Circle in Markham. Let me know if they can take in any mages. If we’re going to divert them from Kirkwall, we need safe places for them to go.”
Frederick nodded, though his expression turned serious. “Just be mindful, Ari. You’re playing a dangerous game with someone who holds all the power in this city. I’ll help however I can. And I did mean it when I said I will take this back to my father.”
Ariana met his gaze, a flicker of gratitude crossing her features. “I know. Thank you, Fred. Though, I have a feeling Meredith now sees us both as a threat.”
Frederick looked contemplative, glancing toward Ariana. “This wasn’t just about you and Cullen, was it?” he asked. “Her reaction—it felt personal.”
“I think in a way it was,” Ariana replied. “She wants me to step aside, to let her dictate his life, his choices. I think from her perspective I’ve stolen her protégé.” Ariana’s thoughts raced as she spoke. Varric had once told her how quickly Cullen had risen through the ranks after arriving in Kirkwall—a hollow man, driven only by duty and pain. But that wasn’t the Cullen she knew. His growth, his confidence, even his willingness to question orders—all of it had come after they’d reconnected. Meredith’s protégé might have followed her without question, but now? Ariana realized she had indeed taken something from Meredith, though not in the way the Knight-Commander believed. She had simply helped Cullen find himself again.”
Frederick leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “Do you think this will end with words, or is she planning something more?”
Before Ariana could respond, the sound of the front door opening sent all three of them glancing toward the hallway. Their postures stiffened instinctively, the tension of the day making them alert. A moment later, Cullen appeared in the doorway, his presence filling the room with an unspoken urgency.
“Ari,” he began without preamble, his golden eyes moving between her and Frederick. “What happened today? Why did you challenge Meredith?”
Ariana raised an eyebrow, her irritation flickering to the surface. Why did I challenge Meredith? The question struck her like a sharp slap, her thoughts bristling. Is that really what he thinks? That I sought her out for sport? Her expression cooled as she met his gaze. “Why did I…? Cullen, I was out for a walk. She accosted me in the middle of the street. What was I supposed to do, bow down and apologize for my existence?”
Frederick leaned back slightly, his expression calm but watchful. “If anything, Knight-Captain,” he interjected smoothly, “it was Meredith who provoked Ariana. She treated her with a disrespect unbecoming of her station, and I simply couldn’t stand by and let that continue.”
Cullen’s gaze flicked to Frederick, a mix of gratitude and wariness in his eyes. “I’ve heard what happened,” he said, his tone measured. “But I also heard you plan to take this back to your father—and potentially the other city-states.” There was a note of caution in his voice now. “Do you think that’s wise? It could escalate things further.”
Frederick studied Cullen for a moment before replying, his tone steady but firm. “It may escalate things, yes,” he admitted. “But the Free Marches operates on mutual respect and shared values. For one city-state to operate under Templar rule would be deeply concerning to the others.”
Cullen frowned, his arms crossing as he leaned against the doorframe. “You must realize how dangerous this could be. Meredith will not respond kindly to outside interference.”
“I don’t expect she will,” Frederick countered, though his tone remained diplomatic. “But that does not mean she should go unchecked. I don’t intend to send an army to her doorstep, Knight-Captain. I intend to share my observations with Markham and Ostwick’s leaders—quietly, for now. If Kirkwall’s stability is truly at risk, it’s better that the city-states are aware of it sooner rather than later.”
Cullen’s jaw tightened, his concern evident. “And if this scrutiny puts more pressure on Kirkwall? If it makes Meredith’s grip even stronger?”
Frederick’s gaze sharpened, though his voice remained calm. “If she tightens her grip, then she reveals her intentions for all to see. And that,” he said pointedly, “may be the very thing that forces change.”
Ariana’s expression softened slightly as she glanced between the two men. “Frederick’s right,” she said, her tone quiet but resolute. “The Free Marches stands together, Cullen. If one city-state falters, the others will act. It’s always been that way.”
Cullen sighed heavily, his hand running through his hair. “I just don’t want this to spiral out of control,” he muttered, his frustration evident. “Meredith is already watching you, Ari. This will only make things worse.”
“She’s already watching me,” Ariana replied evenly. “What’s one more reason for her to glare at me from across the Gallows?”
Frederick chuckled softly, though his expression remained serious. “Don’t worry, Knight-Captain. I’ve been in enough diplomatic circles to know how to tread lightly. For now, I’m simply gathering information.”
Cullen’s gaze lingered on Frederick for a moment, his expression softening slightly. “Just be careful,” he said, his tone quiet but sincere. “Meredith isn’t someone to underestimate.”
“Nor am I,” Frederick replied with a faint smile. “But your warning is noted, Knight-Captain.”
Ariana stepped forward, placing a hand lightly on Cullen’s arm. “I know you’re worried,” she said gently. “But I promise you—today wasn’t about picking a fight. I handled myself, and Frederick has only ever had my back.”
Cullen’s hazel eyes softened as he looked at her, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “I know,” he said quietly. “I just… don’t want to see either of you hurt.”
Frederick smiled faintly, his tone lighter now. “Well, I’ve been following Ariana into trouble since we were children. I don’t intend to stop now.”
Ariana was quietly grateful for having Frederick back in her life. And this new version of their friendship felt as it always should have been.
The room relaxed slightly as the tension eased. Isabel, who had been listening quietly from the pantry, stepped forward with a raised eyebrow. “Well,” she said dryly, setting down a plate of hearth cakes, “it’s good to see you boys aren’t at each other’s throats. Let’s hope that continues.”
Her humor was met with faint smiles, but the weight of the day’s events lingered. Cullen took a seat beside Ariana, the four of them sharing a quiet moment of understanding as the fire crackled softly in the hearth.
~~~
The Gallows courtyard was alive with the clink of swords and the low murmur of voices as Cullen oversaw the morning drills. A group of recruits stood before him, their stances awkward as they tried to mimic his instructions. His voice was patient yet firm, guiding them with a steady presence.
The sharp sound of boots striking stone interrupted the rhythm, and Cullen’s gaze shifted to see Knight-Commander Meredith approaching with her usual air of purpose. Her expression was taut with displeasure, her movements clipped. She stopped a few paces away, her piercing gaze locking onto him.
“Knight-Captain,” she said curtly, her tone brooking no argument. “I need a word.”
Cullen nodded to the recruits, signaling for them to continue their drills. “Of course, Knight-Commander,” he replied, his tone calm and measured. “What is it?”
Meredith wasted no time. “It concerns Lady Trevelyan—and her companion, Lord Decken,” she began, her voice laced with irritation. “Their behavior yesterday was not only disrespectful but a threat to the stability of this city.”
Cullen’s brow furrowed, unease stirring in him. “I’ve heard about the exchange,” he said cautiously. “From several witnesses.”
Her lips thinned, but her irritation remained unchecked. “Then you know how reckless their actions were. Lady Trevelyan questioned my authority in front of onlookers, and Lord Decken—” Meredith’s voice dropped into a disdainful sneer, “—saw fit to threaten political repercussions. Do you not see how dangerous such influence can be?”
Cullen’s jaw tightened, though his voice remained steady. “Knight-Commander,” he began carefully, “from the accounts I’ve received, Lady Trevelyan and Lord Decken were responding to your approach. They did not seek out conflict.”
Meredith’s eyes flashed with anger, but she pressed on. “It matters little who initiated the conversation. Their words were inflammatory, undermining the authority of the Templars in a city that is already volatile. Someone like Lady Trevelyan—” she paused, her voice growing colder, sharper, “—is a destabilizing influence. And Lord Decken? He is a meddler, an outsider with no place here.”
Cullen’s hazel eyes darkened, though his tone remained composed. “With respect, Knight-Commander, Lord Decken is the son of the Duke of Markham, and Lady Trevelyan is of Ostwick’s most prominent families. One with deep ties to the Chantry. They are hardly outsiders.”
Meredith’s posture stiffened, her hands curling into fists at her sides. “Titles mean little here, Knight-Captain,” she snapped. “Kirkwall is not like the other city-states in the Free Marches. We cannot afford the luxuries of their politics. Her defiance—their defiance—can only sow division.”
Cullen took a step forward, his expression unwavering. “With respect, Knight-Commander, Lady Trevelyan and Lord Decken did not act with defiance but with dignity. They addressed you with the respect owed to your station, even as they defended their own. To call their actions destabilizing seems… excessive.”
Meredith’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment, the tension between them was palpable. “You may believe that,” she said icily, “but I assure you, Knight-Captain, their influence—her influence—will prove a distraction at best and a danger at worst. You would do well to consider the company you keep.”
“Is this truly about their influence?” Cullen asked quietly, his voice firm. “Or is it about your disapproval of their association with me?”
Meredith’s lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes flashing with restrained fury. “Your loyalties, Knight-Captain, are under scrutiny,” she said sharply. “Do not let misplaced affections cloud your judgment—or your duties.”
Cullen’s voice lowered, his tone firm. “If you are questioning my duties, Knight-Commander, I would ask where I have faltered. Have I failed in my responsibilities?”
Meredith’s mouth tightened into a thin line, her tone icy. “Your duties are not in question, but your judgment is. Bringing Lady Trevelyan to the Gallows for healing was a careless use of our resources.”
“Careless?” he repeated, his voice low and measured, but with an edge of restrained anger. “Would you have had me let her die?”
Meredith’s silence was deliberate, her gaze like ice. Cullen felt the words hang between them, cutting deeper than he expected. Misplaced affections, he thought bitterly. Meredith’s disdain for Ariana—and now Frederick—was not only personal but dangerously calculated. She saw them as threats, and she was determined to neutralize them.
Cullen exhaled slowly, forcing his composure. “Knight-Commander, if you believe my association with Lady Trevelyan compromises my duties, I welcome a formal review.” His tone sharpened slightly. “But I will not stand for baseless accusations against those who have done nothing but act with integrity.”
Meredith’s glare deepened, but she seemed to realize she would gain no ground here. With a sharp pivot, she turned on her heel, her crimson-lined cloak snapping behind her like a whip. “Watch yourself, Knight-Captain,” she said over her shoulder, her tone low and laced with warning.
Her words struck a chord deeper than he wanted to admit. Ariana, with her unyielding courage, and Frederick, with his careful diplomacy, were weaving themselves into the fabric of Kirkwall’s politics. And while Cullen admired their strength, he couldn’t shake the nagging fear that Meredith’s wrath would fall harder on them because of him.
He let out a weary sigh, his gaze shifting back to the recruits in the courtyard. What are we walking into, Ari? he thought, his chest tightening with a mix of pride and dread. And how do I protect you from it?