Tag: Leliana

  • 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 80 – Anchor in the Storm

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    Cullen frowned. “Less?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    “When did this happen?” she asked softly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    ~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    ~~~

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

    “Ari, wait.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    Something something grateful something.

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

    King Alistair Theirin

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    ~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    Solas smiled faintly. “Then close your eyes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    ~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  • Chapter 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 74 – Wherever You Lead

    25 Bloomingtide – 5 Justinian 9:41

    The next morning, the camp buzzed with activity as Rangers and Inquisition soldiers packed up supplies, the sharp clang of metal and muted chatter blending with the cold wind. Ariana stood at the edge of a ledge overlooking the mountains, her thoughts adrift in the expanse of white and grey before her. The biting wind stung her cheeks, but she barely noticed. 

    Relief was a strange thing—she felt it now, knowing the camp had a direction, knowing they would move forward. Yet it wasn’t the all-encompassing sense of ease she had expected. Beneath it lingered a tension she couldn’t shake, a weight she had carried for as long as she could remember. 

    A small, private smile curved her lips as her fingers brushed over the familiar ring now snug on her hand. She wasn’t sure what to make of that relief—it was sharp, raw, and vulnerable, and yet it anchored her amidst the chaos. Not now, she told herself. There will be time to feel all of this later. Now, they need me steady.

    “Thought you might need this,” Riley’s voice startled her, breaking through her thoughts. Ariana turned as Riley draped her cloak over her shoulders, her wry smile a quiet comfort. Before Ariana could thank her, Riley gave a curt nod and disappeared back into the camp to help where she could. 

    Ariana pulled the cloak tighter, its weight both familiar and grounding, and turned back to the view. She didn’t linger long before she felt a presence behind her. Strong arms wrapped around her waist, and she leaned back instinctively, the warmth of Cullen’s embrace cutting through the cold. 

    “Why, Commander,” she teased, a smile tugging at her lips. “People will talk, you know…” 

    “I think they’re already talking, my love” Cullen whispered, his voice warm and tinged with amusement. 

    She turned in his arms, her hands resting on his chest as his arms remained loosely around her. His eyes were soft, his expression free of the worry that so often clouded it. For a moment, she let herself simply feel—feel the safety of his presence, the weight of his love, and the strange, unexpected lightness that came with it. 

    “Are we ready to go?” she asked quietly, her tone steady but touched with anticipation. 

    “Almost,” he replied, glancing toward the bustling soldiers. “The last of the supplies are being packed. Solas is with the scouts, reviewing their findings.” 

    Before she could respond, a young woman approached them hurriedly, her expression a mix of nerves and excitement. 

    “You’re her, aren’t you?” the woman blurted out, her words tumbling over each other. 

    Ariana raised an eyebrow, momentarily thrown. “The Herald of Andraste?” she asked cautiously. 

    “Well… yes, but no. I mean, you’re the White Wolf?” 

    Surprise flickered across Ariana’s face, followed by a quiet, guarded curiosity. “Oh, that. Yes, I am,” she said carefully. 

    The woman’s face lit up. “You saved my older brother years ago. He never stopped talking about being rescued from bandits by a white wolf.” 

    Ariana tilted her head thoughtfully, sifting through memories. “At the base of the Frostbacks? The boy who dropped his basket?” 

    “Yes! You remember him?” the woman’s eyes shone, her delight unguarded. 

    Ariana’s lips curved into a soft smile. “Of course, I do. I could never forget him. He’s the reason the White Wolf exists at all. Is he alright?” 

    “Oh, yes,” the woman said eagerly. “He’s a successful merchant now, thanks to you.” She hesitated briefly before her excitement bubbled over again. “If the Inquisition needs supplies, he could help. I’m sure he would. Once we’re settled, I’ll write to him, my lady.” 

    Ariana’s smile deepened, and she inclined her head. “Thank you. That means a great deal.” 

    The woman bowed quickly and excused herself, leaving Ariana standing with Cullen as the memory settled over her like a warm blanket. 

    “Well…” Ariana mused aloud. “I never thought I’d find out what became of him.” 

    “You’re telling me a boy is the reason the White Wolf was born?” Cullen asked, his curiosity piqued.

    Ariana chuckled, pulling the cloak tighter around her shoulders. “Well, you just heard most of the story. I was wearing a fur-trimmed cloak, much like this one.” she said motioning loosely towards herself “It was snowing, and bandits tried to rob him. Riley and I stepped in, but all he saw was the cloak. He ran home to his parents, swearing he was saved by a white wolf.”

    She laughed softly at the memory, the sound carrying a warmth that eased some of the tension still lingering in her chest. “He dropped his basket in his panic. I returned it to his parents, who tried to prove to him I wasn’t a wolf. The boy seemed disappointed, so when they asked for my name, I told him he could call me ‘Wolf.’” 

    “That’s the whole story?” Cullen asked incredulously.

    Ariana smirked, her tone playful. “What, were you expecting a grand tale of heroism and destiny?”

    “I didn’t expect a cloak and a panicked boy with a basket,” he retorted with a chuckle. “And after that?” 

    Ariana smiled, a touch of mischief in her eyes. “After that? The boy’s family did most of it. The story grew with every retelling—bandits became an army, and I was no longer just a wolf but a great white beast that tore through them. And somewhere in there…” She paused, smirking. “Riley probably added her embellishments. You know how she is.”

    Cullen shook his head, chuckling softly. “Of course she did.” 

    Ariana’s gaze shifted back to the camp. She felt a quiet sense of pride, knowing that small act of kindness had grown into something far greater than she could have imagined. And now, it seemed, that story might help the Inquisition in a time of desperate need.

    “The woman said he could send supplies,” Ariana mused aloud, her tone thoughtful. “If that’s true… if what started as a frightened boy’s story can help save lives now, then maybe I’m doing something right.”

    Cullen reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face as his smile softened. “You’ve always done something right, Ari. More than you give yourself credit for.”

    She glanced at him, her lips curving into a wry grin. “Careful, Commander. I might start to believe you.”

    “For once, I hope you do,” he replied, the humor in his tone unable to mask the sincerity beneath it.

    They shared a quiet moment together, the weight of the past mingling with the hope for what lay ahead. Ariana pulled her cloak tighter, the memory of the boy now a warm thread in the larger tapestry of her life—a reminder that even small acts could ripple outward in ways she could never predict.

    And with the woman’s words still fresh in her mind, she felt a flicker of satisfaction, knowing the choices she made—then and now—mattered.

    ~~~

    The journey through the mountains stretched on, each day blending into the next as snow and wind clung stubbornly to the path. The chill seeped into bones, but the steady rhythm of progress offered a fragile sense of hope. Ariana rested against Cullen, her exhaustion too deep to protest his insistence that she ride while he held the reins. His arms wrapped securely around her, their warmth a quiet shield against the cold.

    The sound of approaching hooves pulled Ariana from her half-asleep haze. Riley came into view, her red hair bright against the snowy backdrop, her expression somewhere between a smirk and mock disapproval.

    “Comfortable, are we?” Riley teased, pulling her horse alongside theirs. “Should I start calling you Lady Commander now, Wolf?”

    Ariana tilted her head just enough to meet Riley’s gaze, a slow grin spreading across her lips. “I’d say go ahead, but I think you might need permission from Commander Cullen first.”

    Cullen groaned softly, though the faint curve of his lips betrayed his amusement. “I’m already regretting this,” he muttered.

    “Don’t worry,” Riley said with mock reassurance. “The Rangers will come up with plenty of new titles once word spreads about that little proposal scene last night. If it’s any consolation, I’ve heard worse suggestions than Lord Commander of the White Wolf’s Heart.

    Ariana snorted, burying her face against Cullen’s shoulder as laughter bubbled up. “Oh, Maker help me. That one better not stick.”

    Riley shrugged, her grin widening. “No promises.” With a wink, she urged her horse forward, calling back, “Just let me know when to order the banner changes.”

    As Riley disappeared ahead, another pair of riders joined them. Isabel and Emma, bundled tightly against the cold, rode up with smiles that instantly lightened the atmosphere. Emma’s face lit up when she spotted Ariana.

    “Do you two always sit that close?” Emma asked innocently, her blue eyes bright with curiosity.

    “Only when she’s about to pass out from exhaustion,” Cullen replied smoothly, his tone laced with dry humor.

    Ariana raised an eyebrow at him, her lips twitching into a smirk. “And here I thought you just liked having me close.”

    Isabel chuckled, brushing a strand of blonde hair from her face. “He’s not wrong, though. You were half asleep when we rode up.”

    “Fine,” Ariana admitted, her tone mock-defeated. “But only because it’s I dropped a mountain on myself.

    Emma giggled, looking between them. “So, when are you getting married?”

    Cullen choked on a breath, while Ariana’s eyes widened slightly. “Emma,” Isabel interjected quickly, though her smile betrayed no real intent to stop her daughter. “Let them figure that out.”

    Emma simply shrugged. “It’s a good question,” she said matter-of-factly before turning her horse back toward the caravan.

    “She’s your child,” Ariana muttered to Isabel, though her laughter betrayed her exasperation.

    The day wore on, and as the snow grew heavier, the group’s movements slowed. Dorian rode up to offer more levity, his voice cutting through the frost with practiced theatricality.

    “Herald, Commander,” he began, his smile as sharp as the mountain air. “I’ve come to provide my unsolicited yet brilliant observations about your engagement.”

    “Have you?” Cullen replied dryly, though his tone held a grudging amusement.

    “Oh, naturally,” Dorian continued. “I’m simply ensuring that when the history books recount this moment, it won’t be overshadowed by your woeful lack of a grand celebration. Really, Ariana, do tell me you’ve considered fireworks.”

    “I was thinking more along the lines of surviving to see it,” Ariana quipped, earning a bark of laughter from Dorian.

    “Fair point,” he conceded with a grin. “Though I must insist—at least one ostentatious flourish, for my sake.”

    Cullen sighed heavily, though the soft chuckle that escaped him betrayed his amusement. “How could we say no?”

    “You couldn’t,” Dorian replied with mock solemnity, tipping an imaginary hat. “But alas, I must leave you for now. The mages seem to think I’m useful for more than just my charm.” 

    “You’re really going to let him plan our wedding?” Cullen asked knowingly, leaning down slightly so his voice reached only her ears. 

    Ariana laughed, her voice warm. “I don’t know. It would probably be quite the grand affair if he did. Though I imagine he’d have to fight my mother for that right.” 

    Cullen chuckled softly, leaning down to press a kiss to her temple. Their conversation continued in quiet intervals, punctuated by occasional reports from scouts or murmured reassurances from Cullen when Ariana’s eyelids grew heavy. Each time she drifted off, he tightened his grip around her, holding her close as the caravan pressed on.

    By the time they reached the final rise, the group was a mixture of exhaustion and anticipation. When the scouts returned with news of what lay ahead, Ariana insisted on seeing it herself. Cullen dismounted first, helping her down with gentle care. Together, they climbed the last stretch, their breath visible in the frigid air.

    Her breath caught in her throat as they crested the ridge. Before them stood an immense fortress, its towers rising defiantly against the mountainous backdrop. Shrouded in mist but undeniably imposing, it seemed almost untouched by time, as though it had been waiting for them.

    Solas appeared at their side, his expression as unreadable as ever save for a flicker of satisfaction in his eyes. “Skyhold,” he said, his voice quiet but filled with certainty. 

    Ariana took a step forward, her gaze sweeping over the fortress. Relief mingled with awe as she took in the sight. “It’s incredible,” she murmured, her voice laced with quiet wonder. 

    Cullen watched her, his gaze softening. “It’s more than that,” he said quietly. “It’s safe.”

    Solas watched her, his head tilting slightly as though studying her reaction. For a fleeting moment, a pleased smile played at the corners of his mouth before vanishing into his usual composed expression.

    Behind them, the caravan began to stir, murmurs rippling through the ranks as the fortress came into view. Ariana turned, her voice cutting through the cold.

    “Come on! Let’s keep moving,” she called out, her tone firm but encouraging. “We’re almost there.”

    As the caravan moved forward, Solas lingered atop the ridge for a moment longer, his gaze following Ariana. There was something in the way she had looked at Skyhold—hopeful yet unyielding—that reassured him they were on the right path. Allowing himself a rare moment of satisfaction, he turned and followed her down the winding trail. 

    ~~~

    The first week at Skyhold passed in a blur of activity, each day blending into the next. The grandeur of the fortress offered hope, but the memory of Haven’s destruction lingered like a shadow. Cullen threw himself into organizing repairs, overseeing defenses, and ensuring Skyhold could sustain the influx of soldiers and refugees. But even amidst the chaos, his thoughts kept drifting to Ariana. He saw her in glimpses—always helping, always moving, but never stopping long enough to breathe.

    The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the courtyard as Cullen stood near the makeshift command table, speaking with a small group of soldiers. Reports in hand, he tried to divide his attention between their concerns and the growing list of tasks requiring his oversight. The camp was settling, but Skyhold was far from secure.

    One of the soldiers pointed out an issue with the patrol routes, drawing Cullen’s attention back to the map spread across the table. He was just about to respond when a familiar voice cut through the bustle.

    “Cullen,” Ariana called, her tone casual but carrying an unmistakable undercurrent of mischief.

    He glanced up to see her weaving her way toward him, her expression one of feigned innocence. Immediately, he was on guard. That look never meant anything simple.

    “Ariana,” he replied warily, straightening. “What is it?”

    “I need your help with something,” she said, stopping just short of the table. Her arms were crossed, but there was a spark of excitement in her eyes—one that made him instantly suspicious.

    “I’m in the middle of something,” he said, gesturing to the reports on the table. “It’ll have to wait.”

    She tilted her head, her lips curving into a sly smile. “Oh, that’s fine. I’ll just go exploring the Skyhold basement by myself, then.”

    Cullen froze, his brow furrowing. “The basement? Ariana, no. Those areas haven’t been fully cleared yet. We don’t know what’s down there.”

    “Exactly,” she said, her voice light and teasing. “That’s why I want to explore. I’m curious.”

    He sighed, already sensing where this was going. “You can’t just wander down there on your own. It’s not safe.”

    She tilted her head, her lips curving into a sly smile. “Fine, then I’ll just go find Dorian. I’m sure he’ll help me explore the basement.”

    That made Cullen groan audibly. “Ariana,” he said, his tone already fraying.

    “What?” she asked, her smile widening. “Solas said I might find something interesting down there. And if you’re too busy, I’m sure Dorian would be more than happy to join me.”

    Cullen ran a hand down his face, already picturing the chaos that would follow. It wasn’t jealousy that irked him—it was the fact that Dorian would likely get distracted halfway through by some ancient bauble, leaving Ariana alone with unstable walls and who-knew-what-else.

    “Ariana, you can’t just—”

    But she was already walking away, her strides purposeful as she headed toward the main hall. Cullen sighed heavily, muttering a quick “I’ll be back” to the soldiers before hurrying after her.

    He caught up as she entered the main hall, his longer strides allowing him to fall into step beside her. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he muttered under his breath.

     Her smile widened, and she turned on her heel, starting to walk away. “And yet you want to marry me.”

    “But if I find anything unstable down there, you’re heading straight back.” He said begrudgingly.

    She beamed at him, the picture of triumph. “That’s all I ask, Commander.”

    Together, they made their way down the staircase into the dimly lit basement. The air was cooler here, with a faint tang of stone and damp earth. Ariana’s steps were light, curiosity sparking in her eyes as they ventured further into the depths of Skyhold.

    The first room they entered was small and unassuming, but the rows of shelves and the unmistakable gleam of glass caught Ariana’s attention immediately.

    “A cellar,” she said, moving toward the shelves with a mix of awe and excitement. “Would you look at this…”

    Cullen followed her gaze to the ancient bottles of wine and liquor, their labels faded but still legible in places.

    “Antivan red… Orlesian brandy…” she murmured, brushing away cobwebs to reveal more treasures.

    Cullen crossed his arms, shaking his head with faint amusement. “I hope you don’t plan on sampling those.”

    “Not yet,” she replied, her grin mischievous. “But imagine the morale boost if we brought some of this up for the Inquisition. Or better yet, we could use it to bribe Josephine into giving us a day off.”

    Cullen chuckled despite himself, following her as she moved toward another door.

    The next room was larger, the air thick with the scent of dust and old parchment. Shelves upon shelves of books and scrolls lined the walls, and in the center of the room, an ornate desk stood covered in scattered papers and aged leather-bound volumes.

    Ariana’s breath caught. “Now this…” she said, her voice tinged with awe. “This is what I was hoping for.”

    Cullen leaned against the doorframe, his gaze softening as he watched her. She moved through the room like a child in a storybook, her fingers brushing over the spines of books, her eyes alight with curiosity.

    “You’re enjoying this,” she said suddenly, glancing over her shoulder at him.

    “Maybe,” he admitted, a small smile playing at his lips.

    She laughed softly, her attention drawn to the desk. Shuffling through the scattered papers, she froze when her hand brushed against a larger, folded sheet. Carefully, she pulled it free and spread it out on the desk.

    “Cullen, look,” she said, her tone shifting to something more serious.

    He stepped closer, his brow furrowing as he looked over her shoulder. The sheet was a detailed sketch of Skyhold, its layout intricately drawn with annotations in a language neither of them immediately recognized.

    “It’s a reconstruction plan,” Ariana said, excitement bubbling in her voice. “Look—here’s the courtyard, the main hall, the towers…” She traced her finger along the parchment, her mind already working to piece together the details. “And here—this might be another entrance. Or maybe it’s a hidden passage.”

    Cullen’s expression grew thoughtful as he examined the sketch. “This… this could be invaluable,” he said quietly. “Reinforcing Skyhold will take months, but if we know its layout—its weak points, its strengths—we can work faster. Better.”

    Ariana looked up at him, her smile soft but triumphant. “See? I told you this would be worth it.”

    He met her gaze, his own smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You never stop surprising me.”

    “I aim to please,” she teased, her tone light but affectionate.

    Cullen shook his head, his attention returning to the map. “We’ll need to get this to the architects and the engineers. It might change everything.”

    Ariana leaned against the desk, her expression turning thoughtful. “It’s amazing, isn’t it? How much this place has been waiting for us.”

    He glanced at her, the warmth in his eyes unmistakable. “It’s amazing how much you seem to find wherever you go.”

    She laughed softly, shaking her head. “You flatter me too much, Commander.”

    “And yet it’s true,” he replied, his voice steady.

    For a moment, they stood together in the quiet of the library, the weight of their responsibilities temporarily lifted by the discovery. Ariana’s gaze lingered on the map, her thoughts already spinning with possibilities.

    Cullen watched her, a quiet sense of admiration settling over him. It wasn’t just the map, the books, or the history she uncovered—it was her unwavering drive, her ability to find light even in the darkest of places.

    And as the fading sunlight filtered through a crack in the ceiling, illuminating the dust motes that danced in the air, Cullen realized he wouldn’t trade this moment for anything.

    ~~~

    The courtyard buzzed with subdued activity as Cullen joined Cassandra, Leliana, and Josephine near the command table. Reports and maps lay scattered, their edges curling in the cool mountain air. Despite the bustle, a heavy tension hung over them, thick with unspoken frustrations.

    “This can’t go on,” Josephine said, her usually calm tone frayed with urgency. “We cannot continue to deliberate every decision. It’s causing more harm than good.”

    Leliana nodded, her sharp gaze scanning the camp. “We need a leader. Someone to unify us.”

    Cullen sighed heavily, his arms crossed over his chest. “Someone the people already follow,” he said. “Someone they trust, whether or not they realize it.”

    The silence that followed was telling. They all knew who he meant.

    “It’s Ariana,” Cassandra said at last, her voice firm and resolute. “The soldiers look to her. The villagers adore her. She inspires loyalty wherever she goes.”

    “And she always has,” Leliana added softly, a faint smile touching her lips. “Even when she doubts herself.”

    Josephine folded her hands, her brow furrowed. “The Inquisition will need a moment—something symbolic to solidify her role. A public declaration would do much to unite everyone.”

    “She won’t agree easily,” Cullen interjected, his voice tinged with concern. “She doesn’t see herself that way. She’ll push back.”

    “We cannot give her the opportunity to say no,” Cassandra said bluntly. “If we approach her in front of everyone, she’ll have no choice but to accept.”

    Cullen’s brow furrowed, unease flickering in his eyes. “This is Ariana we’re talking about. Forcing her hand—”

    “Will work,” Leliana interrupted, her tone calm but insistent. “It must. She’ll see the necessity once the decision is made.”

    Cullen shook his head, his voice tightening. “We owe her more than that. She deserves to know what’s being asked of her.”

    “She will understand,” Cassandra said, her expression unwavering. “She has to.”

    Josephine spoke up, her voice gentler. “She would do the same for us, Cullen. This isn’t about forcing her—it’s about showing her what we already see. What the Inquisition needs.”

    Cullen hesitated, his gaze dropping to the table. He couldn’t deny their logic, but the thought of blindsiding Ariana felt wrong. She carried so much already. Could she truly bear this, too? And would she ever forgive them for making her?

    Before he could voice another objection, Cassandra’s gaze shifted toward the window. “Speak of the Herald,” she murmured.

    The others turned, following her line of sight. Outside, Ariana moved through the courtyard, speaking briefly with a soldier before her sharp, assessing gaze swept over the camp.

    “She already leads,” Leliana said quietly, a note of pride in her voice. “Even if she doesn’t realize it.”

    “She will,” Cassandra said firmly, her tone brooking no argument. “We’ll ensure it.”

    Cullen lingered a moment longer after the others left, his gaze fixed on Ariana as she moved through the courtyard. Her steps carried the same purposeful stride that had always drawn him to her, but he could see the weight she carried, even now. The way her shoulders tensed when she paused to speak to a soldier. The faint shadow of exhaustion in her expression. The spark of determination in her eyes.

    He let out a slow breath, his mind swirling. He didn’t want this for her—the title, the burden. He knew how much she resisted the notion of being anyone’s leader. Ariana didn’t see herself as the kind of figure the Inquisition needed, but Cullen knew better. She already led them. She always had. Whether she realized it or not, people gravitated to her strength, her resilience, her unwavering determination to do what was right. That wasn’t something a title could give her—it was simply who she was.

    But titles came with weight, and Cullen knew this one would rest heavily on her shoulders. He frowned, his chest tightening at the thought of what it would mean for her to bear that alone.

    She won’t have to.

    The thought came with a quiet certainty, settling the storm of his mind. He wouldn’t let her carry it alone. Just as they had always done, they would bear it together. Whatever part of this role was too much for her—the politics, the scrutiny, the endless expectations—he would take it on himself. He would do it without hesitation.

    She might become the Inquisitor, but Cullen would ensure that she never felt isolated in the role. They were a team, and he would always stand beside her. Always.

    Ariana’s gaze swept the courtyard, and for a moment, her eyes met his. There was something unspoken in her look—something steady and unyielding, as if she had already accepted what was coming, even if she didn’t fully realize it yet.

    Cullen straightened, the faintest trace of a smile tugging at his lips. You can handle this, Ari, he thought, his resolve hardening. And I’ll handle whatever you can’t.

    Turning back to the table, he gathered the reports left behind, his mind already turning to the preparations. If this was the path they were taking, then Cullen would ensure it was a path Ariana never had to walk alone.

    ~~~

    The first week at Skyhold had offered Ariana little time to rest. Each day brought new challenges, with the shadow of Haven lingering in every task. She was thankful for the rare moments of exploration—and for the few times she managed to convince, cajole, or outright manipulate Cullen into joining her. He needed to stop working as hard as he was, but she understood why he did it. For her. He was trying to keep her safe.

    But I wish he’d understand, she thought, that I’d prefer him coming to bed every night rather than working for days on end. Skyhold had given them a second chance, but what did that mean now?

    Her thoughts scattered when Cassandra approached her, expression serious. “Walk with me,” Cassandra said without preamble, already leading the way. Ariana fell into step beside her, their boots crunching against the snow loud in the quiet tension between them.

    “They arrive daily,” Cassandra began, gesturing toward the crowd below. “From every settlement in the region. Skyhold is becoming a pilgrimage. Word of our survival spreads—and with it, the tale of the Herald who saved us.”

    Ariana frowned, glancing at the people working tirelessly to repair walls, set up tents, and haul supplies. “If word has reached these people, it’s reached Corypheus. We’ve gained walls and numbers, but this threat is far beyond what we anticipated.”

    “And yet,” Cassandra countered, her tone measured, “we know now why he came for you. What allowed you to stand against him.”

    Ariana raised her marked hand with a mirthless laugh. “He came for this. And now that it’s useless to him, he just wants me dead. He will not suffer an ‘unknowing rival.’”

    Cassandra stopped, turning to face her. “The Anchor has power, yes—but it’s not why you’re still standing here,” she said firmly.

    Ariana chuckled lightly, trying to defuse the gravity of the conversation. “Actually, it is. Without it, I’d probably be lying in a snowbank somewhere.”

    Cassandra didn’t smile but continued leading her up the stairs to a landing overlooking the courtyard. “Your decisions let us heal the sky. Your determination brought us out of Haven. You are that creature’s rival because of what you did, Ariana. And we know it. All of us.”

    As they reached the landing, Ariana’s steps slowed. Leliana stood waiting, her head bowed slightly, and in her hands was a sword. It was masterfully crafted, intricate designs etched into its blade and hilt. The pommel was set with a gleaming red gemstone, casting faint reflections onto the silver dragon coiled around the hilt.

    Recognition hit Ariana immediately, stealing her breath. “That’s…” she began, but her voice faltered.

    “It was commissioned by Divine Justinia,” Cassandra said, stepping closer. “Meant for the Inquisitor who would lead the Inquisition when the time came.”

    Ariana’s chest tightened. “And you think… that’s me?”

    Cassandra’s gaze didn’t waver. “You have been leading us since the moment you stepped out of that rift. These people follow you, not because you’re the Herald of Andraste, but because you inspire them.”

    Ariana’s gaze flicked to the crowd below. She saw Cullen, Riley, Elliott, and the Vanguard among the villagers and soldiers. Their faces carried a trust that was both humbling and terrifying. “It’s unanimous?” she asked, her voice tinged with disbelief.

    “All of these people have their lives because of you,” Cassandra said firmly. “They will follow.”

    “That wasn’t the question,” Ariana countered, unease slipping into her voice. Leadership was familiar to her, but this? This was something else entirely. An Inquisitor hadn’t existed in eight ages. Could she bear the weight of that legacy?

    “I will not lie,” Cassandra admitted, her tone softening. “Handing this power to anyone is troubling. But I have to believe this is meant to be. There would be no Inquisition without you. How it will serve, how you lead—that must be yours to decide.”

    Ariana’s heart pounded as she looked at the sword again. The blade shimmered in Leliana’s hands, and Ariana hesitated before stepping forward. Her hands trembled as she reached for it, steadying herself before taking hold.

    As she lifted the sword, its weight was both literal and symbolic. “Our concern must be the order and safety of this world, not the next,” she said softly, more to herself than anyone else. “I’m not ‘chosen.’ I have chosen.”

    “Wherever you lead us,” Cassandra said, gesturing for Ariana to approach the ledge overlooking the gathered crowd.

    Ariana turned toward the ledge, the sword in hand, and looked down at the crowd. The weight of their eyes pressed against her, and her chest tightened.

    “Commander, will they follow?” Cassandra asked, her voice carrying over the courtyard.

    “Inquisition!” Cullen shouted, his voice ringing out over the courtyard. “Will you follow?”

    A roar of approval rose in response.

    “Will you fight? Will we triumph?” Cullen continued, his words pulling more fervent cheers from the crowd. He unsheathed his sword and raised it high. “Your leader! Your Herald! Your Inquisitor!”

    The crowd erupted, their voices echoing off the stone walls. Ariana tightened her grip on the ceremonial sword, letting the sound wash over her. It wasn’t just noise—it was belief. Belief in her.

    Turning back to Cassandra, Ariana saw something she hadn’t expected—a small, rare smile. “They will follow,” Cassandra said simply.

    Ariana exhaled deeply, her voice steady. “Then let’s lead them.”

    Yet, despite the steadiness of her voice, her mind churned with doubt. She wished for the simplicity of what she knew. She knew how to be the White Wolf, the leader of the Silver Rangers. She wasn’t sure about this.

    Her gaze flicked to Cullen below, still among the crowd, sword raised high in support. The sight unsettled her. He’d known this was coming—why hadn’t he said anything?

    Did he believe in this? Did he believe in me? Or is he just resigned, like I am, to the path set before us?

    She turned back toward the cheering crowd, swallowing her unease. For now, she would let herself believe in their belief. It was enough—it had to be.

    ~~~

    As the crowd dispersed, Ariana remained rooted on the stair landing, the cheers and excitement fading into the background. Leliana and Cassandra lingered beside her, their presence grounding her in the surreal moment. She was an Inquisitor now—a leader in name, not just in practice—and the weight of it was still sinking in.

    Cassandra’s steady voice broke the quiet. “We should have done this long ago. Named you Inquisitor, I mean.”

    Leliana nodded, her sharp eyes softening as they met Ariana’s. “You’ve been leading us all along, whether you realized it or not.”

    Ariana tilted her head, doubt flickering across her face. “Cassandra… you started this. The Inquisition was your doing.” Her voice held an edge of uncertainty, as though she couldn’t reconcile how she’d ended up here instead of Cassandra.

    Cassandra shook her head firmly. “I wish I could say this was my doing, but it’s not. You’ve been the one making the hard decisions. You’ve been the one forging alliances. We followed you here.”

    Ariana chuckled lightly, trying to ease the tension in her chest. “Now you’re just flattering me.”

    “I’m not!” Cassandra insisted, sounding exasperated. “This always happens. Nobody ever takes my meaning seriously—”

    “You are being very flattering, Cassandra,” Leliana interjected with a faint smirk.

    Cassandra groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Why do I even bother?”

    Ariana burst into laughter, the sound a rare reprieve from the weight of the past week. “You should see your face right now.”

    Cassandra sighed, though there was a hint of humor in her tone. “I’m thinking less flattering things now,” she muttered before excusing herself and descending the stairs.

    Ariana watched her go, her laughter fading as the moment settled around her again. The weight of her new title pressed against her shoulders. She wanted to feel pride, to embrace the hope that came with the cheers of the people below, but instead, the doubt lingered.

    Before she could dwell on it, Josephine and Cullen approached, their smiles warm but curious. “Well, you two seemed like you were having fun,” Josephine said, her tone light.

    Ariana smirked. “Cassandra’s always fun. You just have to know how to bring it out of her.”

    Cullen chuckled softly but didn’t add anything, gesturing for them to head inside the main hall. As they made their way in, the weight of the conversation lingered on Ariana’s shoulders.

    “So, what exactly happens now?” she asked, glancing at the group.

    Leliana responded first, her voice steady. “We continue our roles as we have been. The only difference now is that the decisions are yours alone. We are here to advise and carry out your orders.”

    Ariana nodded, her lips pressing into a thin line as she ran a hand through her hair. Cullen caught the gesture, recognizing it as a tell—a habit whenever she was uncertain or deeply bothered.

    They entered the main hall, its grandeur muted by years of wear and damage. Sunlight streamed through the cracked windows, illuminating streaks of dust in the air. Despite its state, the space held an undeniable sense of potential.

    “This is where it begins,” Cullen said thoughtfully, his gaze sweeping the room.

    “It began in the courtyard,” Leliana countered. “This is where we turn that promise into action.”

    “But how?” Josephine asked, pacing slightly. “We know little about Corypheus beyond his desire for the Anchor.”

    Ariana sat on the steps leading to the throne, her fingers drumming lightly on her knees. “Could his dragon really be an Archdemon?” she asked quietly. “What would that mean?”

    “It would mean the beginning of another Blight,” Leliana answered gravely.

    Ariana exhaled sharply, a bitter smile tugging at her lips. “Didn’t need two of those in my lifetime,” she muttered.

    Josephine attempted a more optimistic angle. “We’ve seen no darkspawn other than Corypheus himself. Perhaps it’s not an Archdemon but something… different?”

    “Whatever it is, it’s dangerous,” Cullen said firmly, arms crossed. “Commanding such a creature gives Corypheus an advantage we can’t ignore.”

    Ariana leaned forward, her elbows on her knees. “We’re stumbling in the dark. Someone out there has to know something about him.”

    Before anyone could respond, the heavy doors creaked open. Varric strolled in with his usual swagger, though his expression carried a rare seriousness.

    “I know someone who can help with Corypheus,” he announced.

    Ariana froze, her sharp eyes locking onto him. Something in his tone struck a chord of recognition. “You don’t mean…” she started, her voice trailing off as realization dawned.

    Varric hesitated for a moment, a rare flicker of guilt crossing his face. “Yeah…”

    The room fell silent, the air heavy with tension. Ariana’s lips parted slightly, a mix of disbelief and anger flashing across her face. “You knew where she was?” she asked, her voice low and tight, dangerously calm. “This entire time?”

    Varric raised his hands defensively. “Not exactly. I knew how to reach her, and even then, I didn’t want to—”

    “You didn’t want to what?” Ariana interrupted, her voice rising slightly. “You didn’t want to tell me? You didn’t trust me?” Her words cut like daggers, her frustration spilling over. “I’ve been asking you about her for months, Varric. Every time I asked if you’d heard from her, you lied.”

    “I didn’t lie!” Varric shot back, though his usual bravado faltered. “I didn’t know how to bring it up. I figured it’d be better if you met her when the time was right.”

    Ariana exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair. “The time was right? You decided the time was right? After everything we’ve been through? She’s my friend, Varric! I had a right to know.”

    Varric sighed, the weight of her words pressing down on him. “Pup… I didn’t mean to keep it from you. I just… I thought it’d be easier this way.”

    “Easier for who?” Ariana snapped, her voice cracking slightly. “Because it sure as hell wasn’t easier for me.”

    The room fell into an uneasy silence. Even Leliana and Josephine, who had been silently observing, exchanged brief, uncomfortable glances. Cullen, standing beside Ariana, placed a steadying hand on her shoulder, his presence grounding her.

    “She’s here,” Varric said finally, his tone softer, almost apologetic. “She’s waiting for you on the battlements.”

    Ariana’s chest tightened, her anger ebbing into something quieter, heavier. Hawke was alive. Relief and frustration tangled in her chest, but she forced herself to exhale, nodding stiffly. “Fine,” she said, her voice clipped. “I’ll see her. But don’t think for a second this is over, Varric.”

    The dwarf offered a faint, sheepish smile. “Noted.”

    As Varric retreated, Josephine cleared her throat delicately. “Well, this is… unexpected.”

    Cullen’s hand lingered on Ariana’s shoulder for a moment longer before he stepped back. “Do you want me to come with you?” he asked quietly, his tone careful.

    Ariana shook her head, her expression softening slightly as she glanced at him. “No,” she said, her voice steadier now. “I need to do this on my own.”

    With that, she turned and made her way toward the battlements, her thoughts swirling. Relief battled with anger, hope with doubt. As the cold wind hit her face upon stepping outside, she squared her shoulders, steeling herself for the reunion.

    ~~~

    Ariana made her way to the battlements, the cold air brushing against her cheeks as she climbed the stairs. A mix of emotions churned within her—excitement to see Hawke, relief at the prospect of answers, and a faint, growing unease at Varric’s secrecy. She hadn’t seen Hawke since she and Fenris left the Ranger manor years ago, after everything had fallen apart. The thought of Hawke brought back memories of Kirkwall—of friendships forged in chaos, laughter amidst tragedy, and battles that had left their scars on all of them. But there was warmth, too, a camaraderie she hoped hadn’t faded.

    Pushing open the tower door, she froze as the familiar figure turned to face her. The grin spreading across Hawke’s face was as warm as she remembered, and Ariana felt her own lips tugging upward in response.

    “Hawke, it’s good to see you,” Ariana said warmly, closing the distance to give her a hug. The embrace was firm and grounding, a brief moment of familiarity in an otherwise unrelenting storm.

    “It’s been a long time… Inquisitor,” Hawke teased, the playful tone softened by genuine warmth.

    Ariana chuckled, shaking her head. “It has… Champion,” she replied, mimicking the exaggerated weight Hawke put on the title.

    Hawke laughed, leaning her elbows on the stone wall. “Quite the view. Reminds me of looking out my balcony in Kirkwall. I loved it at first. But after a while, all I could see were the people out there, depending on me.”

    “It’s all I can see now,” Ariana admitted, her voice softening. The weight of the Inquisition was still settling on her shoulders, and Hawke’s words resonated deeply. She thought of the villagers, the soldiers, and the Rangers who had followed her here. Their lives were intertwined with hers now, for better or worse.

    “Hawke, I figured you might have some friendly advice about Corypheus. You and I did fight him, after all,” Varric interjected, his voice breaking through the moment as he approached them.

    Ariana blinked, the words cutting through her thoughts like a blade. You and I… Her brow furrowed slightly as she turned to Varric, her mind catching on the phrasing. Varric knew about Corypheus all along. He hadn’t just heard about it—he had been there.

    She arched an eyebrow at him, her tone sharper than before. “When exactly did this happen? And why is this the first I’m hearing of it?”

    Hawke winced slightly, offering a sheepish smile. “It was after the Qunari uprising. Riley had just arrived in Kirkwall, and you were busy expanding the Rangers. Honestly, we weren’t trying to keep it from you. I think… well, there were just always other fires to put out.”

    Ariana’s jaw tightened as she processed the information. She glanced at Varric, her gaze hardening briefly. You kept this from me. Why? But she let it go for the moment, refocusing on Hawke. “So, what can you tell me about him?”

    “You’ve already dropped half a mountain on the bastard. I’m sure anything I can tell you pales in comparison,” Hawke replied with a chuckle.

    “Tried to drop half a mountain, to be exact,” Ariana said dryly. “I buried Haven, and his Archdemon flew him to safety.” The frustration lingered in her voice, the failure still fresh in her mind. “What happened when you fought him? Who is he?”

    “Fought and killed,” Hawke began, leaning back against the battlements. “The Grey Wardens were holding him, and somehow he used his connection to the darkspawn to influence them.”

    Ariana blinked, her shock evident. “He can influence Grey Wardens?”

    “Corypheus got into their heads,” Varric added, though he hesitated as Ariana turned her gaze to him.

    She raised an eyebrow higher, her tone sharper. “So, you were there, Varric?” Her voice was calm, but the cutting edge was unmistakable. “That must be nice—knowing things about Corypheus and sharing them… eventually.”

    Varric raised his hands defensively. “Easy, pup. It’s not like I’ve been sitting on this plan for years. I thought about it after Haven.”

    Her chest tightened, frustration simmering beneath the surface. After Haven? When lives were lost, and I was nearly getting killed in an avalanche? She exhaled through her nose, turning her attention back to Hawke. “So, if the Wardens have disappeared, they could have fallen under his control again.”

    “That’s a possibility,” Hawke said gravely. “And it’s not one we can ignore.”

    “Wonderful,” Ariana muttered, her tone bitter. “The Venatori, the red Templars, an archdemon, and now potentially the Wardens? This is shaping up to be just fantastic.”

    “I’ve got a friend in the Wardens,” Hawke offered. “Stroud. He mentioned corruption in their ranks the last time we spoke. Since then… nothing.”

    Ariana frowned, her mind racing as she tried to piece together the scattered fragments of information. “Why didn’t I see anything about this in the future?” She murmured, trying to think through all the events she heard about.

    “See?” Hawke’s voice cut through her thoughts, her brow furrowed in confusion.

    “Walk with me,” Ariana said, cutting off Varric before he could being explaining with a raised hand. Her irritation bubbled to the surface again as she turned to Hawke. “It’s a long story.”

    As Hawke fell into step beside her, Varric called after them, his voice light but laced with guilt. “Is now really the time for stories?”

    Ariana glanced over her shoulder, her expression sharp. “Generally, whenever you know information that might be relevant, the right time for stories is as soon as possible,” she shot back, her pointed jab landing squarely on him.

    Hawke raised an eyebrow, amused but silent as they walked. Ariana didn’t glance back again, though her frustration lingered, a knot in her chest that hadn’t been there before. She had trusted Varric implicitly, and while she could forgive his secrecy, the sting of betrayal wasn’t so easily dismissed.

    As they reached the far end of the battlements, she glanced at Hawke, forcing herself to focus. This wasn’t about Varric—not right now. This was about the fight ahead. I’ll deal with Varric later, she thought, her resolve hardening as she began recounting the dark future she had seen. Hawke listened closely, her expression growing more serious with every word, yet having Hawke here gave her a measure of hope.

  • Chapter 73 – A Renewed Purpose

    24 Bloomingtide 9:41

    Cullen carried Ariana through the snow, the weight of her limp body far less heavy than the storm of emotions surging within him. Relief, fear, and disbelief warred for dominance as he looked down at her pale face, her dark hair streaked with frost and matted with snow. Her breathing was shallow, each faint exhale a fragile thread tethering her to life.

    Riley caught up to him, her boots crunching through the snow as she matched his pace. Her gaze fixed on Ariana, and her lips trembled as she pressed a trembling hand to Ariana’s forehead. “She’s so cold… but she’s alive,” Riley murmured, her voice cracking under the weight of her relief. She cupped Ariana’s face, her thumb brushing over her cheek, before leaning her forehead gently against hers. “Maker forgive me, but I swear I’m going to kill you when you wake up,” she whispered, her tone a fragile mix of affection and frustration.

    Pulling back, Riley looked up at Cullen with tears glistening in her eyes, a faint, shaky smile breaking through her disbelief. “I told you she’d make it.”

    Cullen let out a small, breathless laugh, though the sound was laced with tension and frayed nerves. “That you did, Lieutenant. Thank you.” His voice softened as his gaze returned to Ariana, his expression raw. “Let’s get her to the healers. She’s hurt… I think her ribs are broken. She flinched when I picked her up.”

    Riley nodded, falling into step beside him. “She’ll pull through. She has to.” Her words carried a fierce determination, but the fear beneath them was unmistakable.

    The camp was a hive of frantic activity, its flickering fires casting warm halos against the swirling remnants of the storm. Soldiers and villagers moved with purpose, their breaths visible in the cold air. Cullen barely registered the chaos, his focus singular. A Ranger pointed them toward a larger tent where Grand Enchanter Fiona and Mother Giselle waited, their calm, steady presence grounding amidst the whirlwind.

    “Lay her down, Commander,” Fiona instructed, motioning to a cot. Her voice was gentle but carried an authority that brooked no argument.

    Cullen knelt carefully, lowering Ariana onto the cot as though she were made of glass. His hands lingered on her briefly before he forced himself to pull away, his heart pounding. “She was holding her side,” he said, his voice tight with worry. “Her ribs—she’s been in pain for hours. Maybe longer.”

    Fiona nodded, her hands already moving to assess Ariana’s injuries. “It’s possible her ribs are broken, but I won’t know the extent until I’ve examined her thoroughly. Whatever she’s endured, Commander, she’s strong. To make it this far… it’s remarkable.”

    Cullen’s jaw tightened as he reached for Ariana’s hand, his thumb brushing lightly against her icy skin. His voice was barely audible. “She’s stronger than anyone I’ve ever known.”

    Fiona paused briefly to glance up at him, her expression softening. “Commander, I know it’s hard, but you must let me work. Trust me—she’s in good hands. My best healers are on their way. We’ll take care of her.”

    Her words struck him like a blow, the truth of them clear. He swallowed hard and nodded, his fingers releasing Ariana’s hand reluctantly. “Please… keep me informed,” he managed, his voice tight with restrained emotion.

    “I will,” Fiona said gently. “You have my word. Now go. She needs warmth, rest, and healing—and so do you. She’ll need you when she wakes.”

    Cullen stepped out of the tent, the cold air biting at his skin, but he barely felt it. His eyes lifted to the mountains looming beyond the camp, the remnants of the storm swirling around their peaks. For the first time since Ariana had made the decision to recruit the mages, he felt truly grateful. Without their presence, their healers, her chances…

    No, he thought. I can’t think like that. She will survive this.

    He reached into his pocket, his gloved hand closing around the ring she had entrusted to him. Its weight was small, but the promise it carried felt infinite. He held it tightly, his resolve hardening with each beat of his heart.

    If you can survive this, Ariana… I swear to you, I’ll never let you go again. Whatever else we need to face, whatever we need to say… You’re mine. And I’ll make sure the world knows it. That you know it.

    The faint warmth of the fires flickered in the distance, but Cullen’s focus remained on the ring and the thought of her eyes opening again. Please, Maker. Just bring her back.

    ~~~

    The camp had settled into a tense rhythm as the night dragged on. Cullen sat outside Ariana’s tent, his shoulders hunched against the cold as he stared into the darkness beyond the campfires. The weight of responsibility pressed heavily on him, but it was nothing compared to the storm of emotions churning inside. For now, all he could do was wait.

    The ring in his gloved hand felt heavier than it should, its edges biting into his palm as he turned it over and over. He had carried her through the snow, watched Fiona work to stabilize her, and now, with Ariana’s life hanging by a thread, all that remained was hope. The thought of losing her again, after all they had endured, was almost unbearable.

    Riley approached quietly, her steps muffled by the snow. Her arms were full of blankets, and her expression was a mix of exhaustion and cautious hope. She set the blankets down beside him before speaking.

    “You should rest, Cullen,” she said softly. “It’s going to be a long day tomorrow.”

    “I can’t,” he replied, his voice low, his gaze fixed on the distant mountains. “Not while she’s still like this.”

    “She’s tough,” Riley said, her tone firm with conviction. “She’ll pull through.”

    Cullen shook his head, the guilt in his chest twisting tighter. “It wasn’t just her choice, Riley. I gave the orders. I told the soldiers to load the trebuchet, knowing what it meant.” His voice tightened. “I helped her stay behind.”

    Riley stepped closer, her tone steady but resolute. “She would’ve stayed either way. You know as well as I do—when she decides something, there’s no stopping her.”

    His fingers closed around the ring, the familiar weight grounding him. “And somehow, she survived. Again.” His gaze remained distant, his voice raw. “She believes in me—believes I’m someone worth following. But what if I’m not? What if I let her down?”

    Riley hesitated, the usual confidence in her demeanor softening for a moment. She glanced at the healer’s tent, her expression flickering with something unspoken before she looked back at him. “Cullen, do you know why I follow her? Why all of the Vanguard do?”

    He shook his head, his brow furrowing. “Because she’s strong,” he guessed, though his tone lacked conviction.

    “It’s more than that,” Riley said quietly, her voice almost reverent. “She never lets fear win. Even when she has every reason to. That’s what makes her strong, yes, but it’s also why she inspires us. She’s not just our leader, Cullen—she’s our hope. And right now, she’s placed that hope in you.”

    Cullen frowned, the weight of her words sinking in. Before he could respond, Riley pressed on, her tone firm.

    “If Wolf believes in you, then the Rangers will stand with you. No matter what you decide, no matter where this fight takes us. You’re one of the few people she trusts to protect her—and we trust her without question. That means we’ll trust you too.”

    The breath Cullen hadn’t realized he was holding left him in a slow exhale. Riley’s words were both a reassurance and a challenge, their weight settling heavily on his shoulders. He nodded slowly, though his voice was tight with emotion when he spoke. “Thank you, Riley.”

    She offered a faint, encouraging smile, her usual sharp edge returning as she added, “So don’t screw it up, Commander. She’s counting on you—and so are we.”

    Before Cullen could respond, Cassandra’s voice broke through the moment. “Cullen, we need you at the strategy meeting.”

    He hesitated, his gaze lingering on the tent where Ariana lay. Riley touched his arm briefly, her voice low.

    “She’s still here, Cullen. That’s what matters. And she’s going to be fine. I know it.”

    Her words were firm, but Cullen could see the flicker of doubt she was hiding. He nodded slowly, rising to his feet. “Thank you,” he said quietly, though the words felt insufficient.

    The strategy tent was dimly lit, the makeshift table cluttered with maps and reports, their edges curling from exposure to the cold. Leliana and Josephine were already deep in discussion, their voices low but urgent. Cassandra stood nearby, her posture rigid as she waited for Cullen to join them.

    “Any updates?” Leliana asked as Cullen entered.

    “Fiona says she’s stable,” he replied, taking a seat. “But she needs time. That’s all we can give her for now.”

    “And Haven?” Josephine asked, her voice laced with quiet despair.

    “Buried,” Cullen said bluntly. “There’s nothing left.”

    Leliana leaned over the map, tracing a narrow route to the west with her gloved finger. “The avalanche bought us time, but not much. Corypheus’s forces won’t stop just because they’ve been delayed.”

    “Then we move,” Cassandra said sharply. “We can’t afford to stay exposed here.”

    “Move where?” Josephine countered, her arms crossed. “We’ve lost too many supplies. The villagers are exhausted. Another march could break them.”

    “Then we stay and fortify,” Cassandra argued. “This pass is defensible—narrow enough to hold.”

    “With what soldiers?” Leliana interjected. “Half of them can barely stand, and the rest are frostbitten. We’d never withstand a prolonged assault.”

    “The Rangers will hold the pass,” Riley cut in, her voice steady as she entered the tent. “So long as Wolf is here, we’ll hold it to the last man.”

    Cassandra turned to her, skepticism in her tone. “Even the Rangers must be near their limit.”

    Riley smirked faintly, her confidence unwavering. “You don’t know us, Seeker. We’re tired, but we don’t give up. Not when she’s still fighting.”

    The argument continued, voices rising and falling as they debated every detail. Cullen leaned against the table, his fingers pressing into the wood. The tension was suffocating, the indecision maddening. His thoughts drifted back to Ariana, lying motionless in the healer’s tent.

    You’re the leader Thedas needs right now. Her words echoed in his mind, a quiet but insistent reminder. He clenched his fists, willing himself to believe it.

    “We need a plan,” Cullen said abruptly, his voice cutting through the noise. “Not another argument. The soldiers need orders. The villagers need direction. Staying here is not an option.”

    “And going east is?” Cassandra asked, her tone challenging.

    “It’s the only viable choice,” Cullen replied firmly. “The valley is low enough to shield us from the worst of the weather, and it gives us room to regroup and scout for resources.”

    The group fell silent, the weight of the decision settling over them. Leliana studied Cullen for a long moment before nodding. “We’ll send scouts ahead. If the valley is clear, we move.”

    Cullen nodded, though his thoughts remained heavy. As the others returned to planning, his gaze drifted once more to the healer’s tent. If I can’t believe in myself, then I’ll believe in her belief. I won’t let her down.

    Maker, give me strength—to be the man she believes I am.

    ~~~

    The voices outside were a constant, muffled by the thick canvas of the tent but unmistakable in their tension. Ariana blinked against the dim light, her vision hazy as she tried to make sense of her surroundings. Her body felt heavy, every ache and bruise screaming in protest as she shifted on the cot. The smell of herbs and faint traces of burning wood filled her nose, grounding her in the present.

    “Ah, you’re awake,” Mother Giselle’s gentle voice broke through the fog. She approached, her hands clasped tightly before her. Relief softened her features, though worry lingered in her eyes. “You shouldn’t try to move just yet. Your body needs time.”

    Ariana ignored the admonition, gritting her teeth as she pushed herself upright. Every breath was sharp and shallow, her ribs protesting the movement. “The arguing,” she croaked, her voice raspy and low. “It’s been going on for hours.”

    Giselle knelt beside her, dipping a cloth into a bowl of cool water. “The leaders have yet to reach an accord. Tensions run high, as does the uncertainty. It is… a difficult time.”

    Ariana exhaled slowly, wincing at the sharp pull in her chest. “It’s always a difficult time,” she muttered, pressing her palm against her forehead. “Don’t they realize there’s no time for this? Not now.”

    “They realize, but even the wisest minds falter when direction seems impossible to find,” Giselle said gently, handing Ariana the damp cloth. “They feel the weight of their choices as heavily as you do.”

    Ariana pressed the cloth to her face, the coolness soothing against her skin but doing little for the fire simmering inside her. She thought of Haven—the people they’d lost, the camp buried beneath snow and ash. The endless arguing felt like a betrayal to those who had sacrificed so much.

    She let the cloth fall into her lap, her gaze distant. “I thought Cullen would be the one to lead us,” she murmured. “I’ve seen him on the battlefield. He doesn’t hesitate. He knows exactly what to do.” Her tone softened, tinged with frustration. “But here…”

    Giselle tilted her head, her expression contemplative. “The Commander is certainly capable of commanding troops and making quick decisions. His soldiers trust him. But leading the Inquisition? It is not a burden he has accepted.”

    Ariana watched her for a moment, thinking through her words. She was right, of course. She admired Cullen. She had watched the way he didn’t hesitate to make a decision when Haven was under attack. There was never any second-guessing; taking control seemed as natural as breathing for him. But then, she had also watched the debates in the war room, and she had lived with him in Kirkwall. He hated politics, he hated managing personalities and diplomacy. Though he was an expert at finding diplomatic compromises, she still believed he could lead the Inquisition. But if she had to guess, he didn’t want to. Maybe she would need to push him, to make him realize he could do this. 

    If only Cullen saw himself the way I do—unflinching in battle, unyielding in his convictions. But he doesn’t want this, not the way they need someone to want it.

    Ariana frowned, her fingers absently tracing the edge of the blanket. “He doesn’t want it,” she admitted quietly. “But I believe he could do it. He could lead this.”

    Giselle gave her a measured look. “Perhaps he could. But would he?”

    The question lingered in the air, unanswered.

    “Do we even know where Corypheus is?” Ariana asked, her frustration mounting.

    “We are not entirely sure where we are,” Giselle admitted, her voice heavy. “That may be why, despite the numbers he still commands, there is no sign of him. That, or you are believed dead. Or without Haven, we are thought helpless. Or…” She paused, frowning. “Or he girds for another attack. I cannot claim to know the mind of that creature, only his effect on us.”

    Ariana sighed, her shoulders sagging. “So, we’re blind and scattered. That’s reassuring.”

    Giselle hesitated but nodded. Her gaze softened as she studied Ariana. “Our leaders struggle because of what we survivors witnessed. We saw our defender stand… and fall. And now, we have seen her return.”

    Ariana frowned, standing up before responding. “I didn’t die, Mother Giselle. Barely escaped, maybe. But I didn’t die.”

    “Of course, and the dead cannot return from across the Veil,” Giselle replied, her tone calm, almost soothing. “But the people know what they saw. Or perhaps, what they needed to see. The Maker works both in the moment and in how it is remembered. Can we truly know the heavens are not with us?”

    Ariana shook her head slowly, her fingers brushing against the mark on her hand as it flickered faintly. “I don’t believe in miracles, Mother Giselle. I believe in fate, maybe. That it wasn’t my time. But a miracle?” Her voice softened, though a bitter edge lingered. “No. I survived because I had no other choice.” Because I had orders the thought made her smile faintly.

    “And yet you are here,” Giselle said softly. “Whether by fate or by sheer will, you endured. That alone gives people hope.”

    Hope. The word lingered in Ariana’s mind, tangled with the weight of Haven’s destruction and the lives now at stake. “Hope isn’t enough to fight Corypheus,” she said after a long pause, her voice low but steady. “We can’t beat him with prayers and stories. We need plans. Action.”

    Giselle studied her, her gaze unwavering. “Plans need strength to anchor them. And you, Herald, are stronger than you realize.”

    Ariana gave a short laugh, bitter and sharp. “I’m just trying to keep everyone alive.”

    “And they see that,” Giselle said softly. “They follow you, even if you do not see yourself as their leader.”

    “I’m not their leader,” Ariana replied, her voice hard. “I’m the White Wolf. My Rangers know who I am. Out here, we protect those who can’t protect themselves. That’s it. This isn’t what I do. I don’t have to worry about political alliances or borders. I don’t have to spend my time courting nobles. We help people, we take on simple jobs that are defined. Even helping to rebuild Ferelden was a series of known tasks. The Inquisition? I don’t know what to do with that.”

    “And yet, you are more,” Giselle insisted. “You give them hope.”

    Ariana fell silent, the words weighing heavily on her. She never set out to inspire hope. But that was what the White Wolf had done for Ferelden. If she needed to do it again, she would.

    Giselle placed a hand on her shoulder, her touch warm and steady. “Leadership is rarely sought, but it is often found in those who bear the weight without realizing they carry it.” she smiled as if trying to reassure her “You should get some rest.”

    The sound of raised voices outside snapped her focus. She forced herself to her feet, ignoring Giselle’s protests. Pain rippled through her ribs, but she steadied herself against the post.

    “I’ll rest when they stop arguing,” Ariana replied. Her voice was quiet but resolute. “This has to stop.”

    She stepped outside, the cold air biting at her skin, waking her fully. The camp was alive with activity, fires flickering against the backdrop of the night. The murmur of voices and the distant crackle of tension hung heavy in the air.

    Ariana scanned the camp, her eyes narrowing as she spotted the tent where the arguing persisted. She straightened, each step sharp and deliberate as she approached.

    The Inquisition needed leadership, and if its leaders couldn’t rise to the occasion, then someone would have to remind them what they were fighting for.

    She might not be the leader they were looking for, but the White Wolf had never needed permission to do what was right.

    ~~~

    The argument continued to spiral, voices overlapping as frustration spilled into the open air.

    “What would you have me tell them?” Cullen demanded, his tone sharper than usual. “This isn’t what we asked them to do!”

    Cassandra squared her shoulders, her voice firm. “We cannot simply ignore this! We must find a way!”

    Cullen turned to her, his brow furrowing deeper, frustration tightening his features. Guilt flickered beneath his words as he added, “We need a consensus, or we’ll tear ourselves apart before we can even move forward!”

    “Please, we must use reason!” Josephine interjected, her tone placating but strained. “Without the infrastructure of the Inquisition, we’re hobbled!”

    “That can’t come from nowhere!” Cullen retorted, throwing up his hands.

    Leliana’s voice cut through, sharp and unyielding. “She didn’t say it could!”

    “Enough!” Cassandra snapped, her patience wearing thin. “This is getting us nowhere!”

    “Well, we’re agreed on that much!” Cullen shot back.

    “Could you all stop bickering and make a decision?” Ariana’s voice cut through the chaos like a blade.

    The group froze, turning to face her. They hadn’t noticed her approach, and the sight of her standing there—worn but resolute—rendered them momentarily speechless. Her gaze swept over them, sharp and unyielding, as if daring anyone to argue.

    “You’re awake,” Cullen said, relief and something deeper flashing across his face, though his tone remained steady. For a brief moment, his guarded composure seemed to crack, his eyes tracing her as if to reassure himself that she was really there.

    Ariana felt her heart skip a beat at the sight of him. Relief, guilt, and frustration swirled inside her, but she pushed it all down, focusing on the task at hand. “Didn’t have a choice,” she replied, her voice sharper than she intended. Crossing her arms despite the sharp protest from her ribs, she added, “I could hear you halfway across the camp. Do you honestly think this is helping anyone?”

    Cassandra’s expression softened slightly, though her posture remained tense. “You should be resting.”

    “And you should be leading, but here we are.” Ariana countered, her tone sharp as she turned her attention to Riley, standing off to the side of the table. “Riley, please tell me you haven’t just been sitting here watching this.”

    Riley scoffed, her arms crossed as she stepped forward. “Of course not. Who do you take me for, Wolf? Who do you think has been keeping this camp together while this lot argued and you slept?”

    The leaders all turned to Riley, their expressions a mix of surprise and embarrassment. It was as though they hadn’t noticed her presence until now.

    Ariana chuckled softly, shaking her head. “I imagine they weren’t ready for that, were they?”

    Riley grinned, her tone light but pointed. “Not even close. I’ve been running this camp since the avalanche, Wolf. Someone had to.”

    “You sure you’re up for this?” Riley added with a smirk. “You look like you just fought an avalanche. Oh, wait…”

    Ariana rolled her eyes, though a faint smirk crossed her lips. “What have you got for me?”

    Riley approached the makeshift table, gesturing at the maps. “We’ve scavenged enough food and firewood for a couple of days. Found a fresh water source and have been collecting snow. Isabel’s sorted the remaining supplies from Haven, and I’ve got scouting parties charting all potential paths. So far, nothing concrete.”

    “You have scouting parties and didn’t report to us?” Leliana interjected, her tone sharp.

    Riley shot Leliana a glare, but Ariana cut in before the exchange could escalate. “She doesn’t have anything concrete yet, and honestly, I don’t blame her for not prioritizing more of this petty back-and-forth.”

    The group exchanged uneasy glances, their expressions flickering between offense and regret.

    “Any other options? Does anyone have another plan?” Ariana asked, her tone pointed.

    Josephine stepped forward, her voice calmer now. “We’re trying to determine that, Herald. But with so much lost…”

    Ariana exhaled slowly, her patience thinning. “Then decide,” she interrupted. “This isn’t the time for endless debates. Pick a path and commit to it, or we’ll lose whatever unity we have left.”

    Her words landed heavily in the tense silence, a stark reminder of the stakes they faced. Cassandra was the first to respond, her nod sharp and deliberate. “You’re right. We need to move forward.”

    Ariana gave a curt nod, her gaze sweeping over the group. “Good. Now, what’s the plan?”

    Before anyone could answer, a calm, familiar voice interrupted. “Herald, if I may have a moment of your time?”

    Ariana turned to see Solas approaching, his expression serene yet unreadable. She sighed, motioning toward the leadership. “Think about a plan, preferably without arguing. I’ll be back.”

    She hesitated at the edge of the tent, casting a look back over her shoulder. “Riley, if they start arguing again, separate them. I don’t care how. Just make sure I don’t hear another word unless I’m standing on this crate.”

    Riley smirked, saluting playfully. “By your order, Wolf.”

    Ariana turned and followed Solas, leaving the leadership to grapple with the decisions they had long delayed. As she walked away, she allowed herself a small, fleeting smile at Riley’s unwavering confidence—proof that even in the chaos, some things remained certain.

    ~~~

    Ariana followed Solas to the edge of the camp, away from the fires and the noise of arguing voices. The blizzard had finally eased, leaving a sharp chill in the air that bit at her exposed skin. Her breaths came shallow, each one a reminder of her battered ribs, but she pushed through the discomfort. Solas walked ahead, his steps deliberate, his hands clasped behind his back. He stopped near a cluster of frost-covered rocks, his gaze fixed on the horizon, though Ariana suspected he was looking far beyond it.

    “You asked Corypheus what he was,” Solas began, his voice measured and calm, “and I suspect he gave you a rather unhelpful answer.”

    Ariana crossed her arms, the movement stiff but grounding. “You could say that. Something about being Tevinter and seeing the throne of the gods.” She hesitated, the memory of Corypheus’s orb flashing in her mind. “Then there was that orb…” Her voice trailed off as a realization dawned. “You know what it is, don’t you?”

    Solas turned his gaze to her, his expression unreadable. “The orb Corypheus carried, the power he used to open the Breach—it is Elvhen,” he said, the words heavy with meaning.

    “Elvhen?” Ariana echoed, the curiosity in her tone tempered by a flicker of wariness. She had learned to tread carefully around ancient magic, particularly when it came to Solas.

    He inclined his head, his voice low and steady. “Artifacts of my people. Foci, used to channel immense magical power. Such tools are not meant to be handled lightly, let alone by someone who does not understand their purpose. Corypheus’s use of the orb—” Solas paused, his expression darkening, “—likely caused the explosion that destroyed the Conclave. That he survived such recklessness… is troubling.”

    Ariana frowned, the weight of his words settling over her. “You’re saying the Conclave was destroyed because Corypheus didn’t know what he was doing?”

    “That, or he cared little for the consequences,” Solas replied. “The magic of Tevinter was built on the bones of the Elvhenan. It is crude, a shadow of what once was. He wields a power he cannot comprehend.”

    Her fingers brushed against the mark on her hand, its faint glow casting shadows on the snow. “And yet here I am. Alive because of that power.”

    “Perhaps,” Solas said, his tone softer now. “Or perhaps the mark chose you. There is meaning in that, though it may not yet be clear.”

    Ariana studied him, her instincts prickling. “You seem to know a lot about this, Solas. About Corypheus, the orb, and the Breach. How?”

    He met her gaze evenly, his expression as calm as ever. “The Fade holds many memories, Herald. I have walked its paths and glimpsed echoes of the past. I recognize what Corypheus carries because it is part of that past—my people’s past.”

    She exhaled, shaking her head. “I don’t have time to dwell on ancient history or what Corypheus thinks he’s entitled to. Right now, we’re barely standing. Whatever that orb is, whatever its origin, we’ll deal with it when we’re not freezing to death.”

    A faint smile touched Solas’s lips. “Pragmatic as always. And yet, pragmatism must be balanced with foresight. To ignore the threat Corypheus poses would be unwise.”

    “I’m not ignoring it,” Ariana countered, her tone firm. “I’m prioritizing. If the Inquisition collapses, there won’t be anyone left to stop him.”

    Solas inclined his head in acknowledgment. “A fair point. Which is why I sought you out. There is a place to the north—long abandoned, but waiting for a force to claim it. It is defensible, well-situated, and capable of sustaining what remains of the Inquisition. There, you could rebuild. Regrow.”

    Ariana blinked, caught off guard by the certainty in his voice. “And you know this because…?”

    Solas’s gaze drifted to the distant mountains, his expression distant. “Because I have walked many paths, Herald. Some of which others have long forgotten.”

    She considered his words, weighing them carefully. Despite the frustration she often felt in his presence, she couldn’t deny the value of his knowledge. “Thank you, Solas,” she said finally, her voice sincere. “For everything.”

    Solas inclined his head, his enigmatic expression giving away little. “I trust you will see the wisdom in what I have shared.”

    Ariana nodded once before turning back toward the camp. As she walked away, the faint glow of her mark flickered against the snow, its light steady despite the storm within her.

    Solas remained where he stood, his thoughts churning. By attacking the Inquisition, Corypheus has changed it. Changed her.

    His gaze lingered on the retreating figure of the Herald—the White Wolf, as her Rangers called her. She was unlike anyone he had encountered in centuries. Pragmatic, yes, but also deeply compassionate. She questioned without judgment, challenged without cruelty. And then there was the mark—an anomaly even he had not anticipated.

    “Perhaps there is hope after all,” he murmured to himself, turning back toward the fires. The Inquisition was fractured, but the pieces were beginning to align. Whether the world knew it or not, its fate was now entwined with hers.

    ~~~

    As Ariana reached the heart of the camp, the quiet buzz of activity surrounded her, muted by the exhaustion that clung to every movement. A sharp voice broke through the stillness, piercing and full of emotion. “Ari!”

    She turned just in time to see a small figure racing toward her. Emma flung herself into Ariana’s arms before she could brace herself, and the force of the hug sent a jolt of pain through her ribs. Ariana gritted her teeth but wrapped her arms around the girl, picking her up and holding her close despite the sharp ache radiating through her body. “Hey, cub,” she murmured softly, her voice steady. “What’s this for? You alright?”

    Emma didn’t answer right away, her little arms tightening around Ariana’s neck. “I thought you were gone,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Everyone was saying…” Her words faltered, her face buried against Ariana’s shoulder. “I was so scared.”

    Ariana’s heart clenched as she held Emma close. She adjusted her grip slightly, her ribs protesting, but she ignored the pain. “I’m not going anywhere, cub,” she said firmly. “See? I’m right here.”

    Emma hesitated, her lip quivering. “I… I talked to Cullen. About… about what I said before. About you. I…” Her voice cracked slightly, and she buried her face into Ariana’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Ari. I was mean, and it wasn’t fair. I know it’s not your fault. I don’t blame you. Cullen said it was his fault.”

    Ariana’s chest tightened further, though she quickly shifted to comfort Emma. She pulled her closer, resting her chin lightly atop Emma’s head. “Hey, listen to me,” she said, her tone low and reassuring. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for. I know it’s been hard, and I know I wasn’t always there to explain. But you didn’t do anything wrong, Emma. None of this is your fault, okay?”

    Emma sniffled, her voice breaking. “But… but I—”

    “No,” Ariana interrupted gently but firmly. “You don’t need to feel guilty for how you felt. It’s alright to be upset. It’s alright to ask questions. You’re brave, cub, braver than most people twice your size. And I’ll always love you, no matter what.”

    Emma sniffled again, a small smile breaking through her tears as she nodded. “I love you too, Ari.”

    Before Ariana could respond, a familiar voice called out from behind her. “Emma,” Cullen said, his tone warm but laced with concern as he approached. “There you are.”

    Emma glanced back at him, then turned to Ariana again, her arms tightening around her. Cullen placed his hand lightly on Emma’s back. “You should let Ari rest,” he said gently. “She’s been through a lot.”

    Emma hesitated, glancing between them. “But she’s okay, right?”

    Ariana nodded, giving her a reassuring smile. “I’m okay, cub. You don’t have to worry about me.”

    Cullen reached out, scooping Emma up into his arms with practiced ease. “Alright, let’s get you back to Isabel. She’s probably wondering where you ran off to.”

    Ariana gave him a grateful smile, adjusting her stance to hide the pain in her ribs.

    As Cullen straightened, Emma rested her head against his shoulder but cast one last look at Ariana. “Did you tell her yet?” she asked, her voice quiet but insistent.

    Cullen froze for the briefest of moments, his expression caught between surprise and something unreadable. “Tell her what?” he asked, though his voice lacked its usual confidence.

    Emma tilted her head, her gaze unwavering. “That you still love her.”

    Ariana blinked, caught off guard by the bluntness of Emma’s question. Cullen’s jaw tightened, and a faint flush crept up his neck, but he managed to keep his tone steady as he said, “I did. Now let’s go find your mom.”

    Emma sighed dramatically, her exasperation lightening the moment. “Really? Are you sure? You promise you did?”

    Ariana chuckled softly, unable to prevent the warmth that spread through her as memories of the night she returned from Redcliffe surfaced in her mind.

    Cullen glanced at Ariana, his expression softening despite his lingering embarrassment. “I promise,” he said gently.

    Ariana watched them go, as she leaned against a nearby tent post, her breathing measured as she tried to ease the lingering pain from catching Emma.

    She caught sight of Cullen returning from where he’d left Emma with Isabel, and as he approached, she straightened, already anticipating what was coming.

    Cullen didn’t waste any time. He stopped in front of her and gently took her arm, guiding her out of view of the campfire and any prying eyes. His expression was firm, but his eyes brimmed with worry. “You should be resting. They’re broken again, aren’t they?” he asked quietly, though he already knew the answer.

    Ariana sighed, rolling her shoulders back in a futile attempt to shrug it off. “One or two. Or three… It’s not important,” she replied lightly.

    “Ari.” His tone stopped her. It wasn’t just concern—it was frustration, pain, and something deeper, rawer. “It is important.”

    She hesitated, her eyes narrowing slightly, but Cullen pressed on. “Don’t tell me it’s not. I was there the last time you broke ribs. During the Qunari uprising, when you also nearly bled out while saying you were fine,” he said, his voice hard but edged with worry. “You were in bed for weeks, Ari. Weeks. You almost died.”

    Her lips parted as if to argue, but she couldn’t. He was right. She remembered that time all too well—how she had spent nearly a week in his quarters in the Gallows, waking each time to find him by her side. She remembered the weight of his worry etched into his face.

    “It’s not the same,” she muttered, though the conviction in her voice faltered. “I escaped an avalanche this time with only some broken rib–“

    “No, it’s worse,” he countered, his hands tightening slightly on her shoulders. “I helped you almost get killed this time.” He took a deep breath, his voice softening. “Ari, I can’t do this again. I can’t lose you.”

    He stepped closer, his hands settling on her shoulders as if grounding himself as much as her. “I couldn’t protect you,” he said, his voice low now. “Not in Haven, not in Kirkwall—Maker, not even when we were young during the Blight. And I’m tired of it. You’re always in danger, always bearing the brunt of everything, and I… I can’t do anything about it.”

    Her expression softened at his words, the tension in her shoulders easing as she reached up, resting her hand against his cheek. “Cullen,” she said gently, her voice steady. “I’m here. I’m alive. And yes, I have some broken ribs, but I’ve survived worse. I told you before: fate and I have an understanding.” She paused, her gaze softening further. “But if it’s any comfort, I wouldn’t mind if next time you could intercept Emma before she jumps on me.”

    Cullen’s lips twitched into a reluctant smile, though his eyes still carried the weight of his worry. “If it’ll keep you from breaking anything else, I’ll intercept her every time.”

    Without a word, he slid an arm around her waist, pulling her closer. She didn’t resist, letting the warmth of his presence soothe the lingering ache in her chest that had nothing to do with her ribs. For a moment, they stood there, the noise of the camp fading into the background.

    “I’ll always be here,” Cullen murmured, his forehead resting gently against hers. “No matter what.”

    “I know,” she whispered, her voice steady despite the storm of emotions she felt. “And so will I.”

    She held his gaze for a brief moment, letting herself find comfort in his arms. “So… I hear you have something to tell me?” she teased.

    Cullen chuckled, shaking his head. “I do. More than Emma knows.”

    Ariana tilted her head slightly, searching his eyes. Before she could question him further, he gently took her left hand, pulling off her glove. From his pocket, he pulled out the ring—her ring.

    “Marry me.” His tone was more a statement than a question, steady and unshakable.

    Ariana’s breath caught as she looked down at the ring, then back at him. She wasn’t sure if this was the time, but she couldn’t help the smile that came without a thought. The memory of the first time he proposed replaying in her mind.  As he held her gaze, he slid the ring back onto her finger, and there was a quiet promise that this time there would be nothing that could keep him from her. She was his path, and he would choose her always.

    Ariana looked down at her hand, now adorned with the familiar ring. “Yes,” she whispered, her voice steady but filled with emotion. “Always, yes.”

    Cullen wrapped both his arms around her waist now, tightening his hold on her briefly, as if committing the moment to memory. Without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him, her lips meeting his with a force that carried the weight of everything she hadn’t been able to say these past few years.

    The world fell away as Ariana melted into the kiss, and Cullen’s hands found the small of her back, pulling her closer. The pain in her ribs was forgotten, the kiss deepening into a mixture of love, relief, and renewed promises.

    When they finally parted, Ariana rested her forehead against his, her breathing uneven, though she smiled softly. “I love you,” she said simply, her voice steady despite her racing heart.

    Cullen’s eyes softened, his hands still at her waist. “And I love you,” he murmured, his voice raw but certain. “I always have.”

    Unbeknownst to them, a small group had gathered nearby, curiosity piqued by the hushed tones and subdued expressions. As the kiss lingered, a single cheer broke the quiet. Then another. And another. Slowly, what sounded like the entire camp erupted into applause, whistles, and shouts of celebration, breaking the spell between them.

    Ariana froze, her eyes wide, looking around briefly before burying her face in Cullen’s chest with a groan. “Well… that’s… I don’t think that proposal will qualify as a rumor,” she muttered, her voice muffled.

    Cullen chuckled, the sound rich and warm, as he rested his chin lightly on the top of her head. “No,” he agreed, his tone laced with humor. “I don’t think it will.”

    From the corner of her eye, Ariana caught sight of Varric standing with Riley and Dorian, all grinning far too wide for her comfort. Riley even raised a hand to salute her.

    Next to them, Isabel carried Emma, who was cheering excitedly. “You told her!”

    Cullen laughed, more genuinely than he had in a long time.

    Ariana groaned again, the warmth in her cheeks growing unbearable. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

    “Oh, absolutely,” Cullen replied, a rare playful glint in his eyes as he glanced down at her. “And I don’t care who knows, Ari.”

    “You’re the Commander of the Inquisition,” she muttered, still hiding her face. “I’m certain all of southern Thedas will know by week’s end, so I hope you mean that.” Despite herself, though, she couldn’t help but laugh softly, the sound blending with the cheers of the camp around them.

    “The Commander of the Inquisition marrying the Herald of Andraste…” Cullen sighed, already imagining the fallout. But despite the thought, he didn’t care. “It seems fitting,” he chuckled.

    If nothing else, this certainly made people forget the arguing of the last few hours. Now, the energy of the camp was buzzing with lightness and laughter—a stark contrast to the grim tension that had lingered since they fled Haven. For the first time since the Breach appeared, the Inquisition felt unified. Even if it came at her expense, Ariana thought wryly, perhaps this was exactly what they all needed.

    ~~~

    Ariana and Cullen returned to the makeshift table where the Inquisition leadership had gathered. The tension from earlier had mostly dissipated, though it lingered faintly in the furrowed brows and crossed arms of those present. Ariana wasted no time explaining Solas’s suggestion, describing the fortress he had mentioned as a potential haven. Her explanation was peppered with the ongoing teasing and commentary from Josephine and Leliana, much to Cassandra’s mounting annoyance.

    “I would appreciate it,” Cassandra interjected pointedly, her tone clipped, “if we could focus on the matter at hand.”

    Leliana’s lips twitched into a sly smile. “I thought the matter at hand was quite literally on her hand.”

    Cassandra’s glare could have melted steel, but Riley didn’t miss the opportunity to chime in. “Oh, come on, Seeker. I think we’re all a little curious. That was quite the camp spectacle. And no one ever witnessed the first proposal, it was very private.”

    Josephine raised a hand to her lips, feigning thoughtfulness. “Perhaps we should debate the logistics of a proper celebration?”

    Cassandra sighed audibly, rubbing her temple as though physically pained by the teasing. “Can we please focus?”

    “Of course, Seeker,” Josephine replied smoothly, though the faintest hint of a smile tugged at her lips.

    Solas approached the group, rolling out a map to display the approximate location of the fortress. He tapped a slender finger against a section of unmarked mountains. “Here,” he said, his tone calm yet confident. “Nothing on your maps indicates a settlement or structure, but I assure you, it is there. It has simply been… forgotten.”

    “Conveniently forgotten,” Leliana murmured, her sharp gaze fixed on the map. “But if it exists, it may be our best chance.”

    Ariana nodded, her focus shifting to Riley, who had joined them. She pointed to the area Solas indicated. “Riley, I need scouts dispatched immediately. Explore every possible path to this location and find the safest route. We’re not risking lives unnecessarily.”

    Riley gave a quick nod, her expression resolute. “On it, Wolf. I’ll organize the Rangers and coordinate with Leliana’s scouts.”

    As Riley strode off, already barking orders to nearby Rangers, the discussion shifted to logistics. Supplies, weather conditions, and the condition of the refugees all came under scrutiny. Cullen gestured toward Isabel, who stood near a cluster of crates with a clipboard in hand, already directing a small group of volunteers.

    “Isabel,” Ariana called, making her way over to her. Cullen followed, his expression steady but intent. “We need to talk logistics. You’ve already got a handle on the supplies?”

    Isabel looked up, her blonde hair falling slightly from its braid as she adjusted her grip on the clipboard. “I’ve started organizing what’s left,” she replied. “It’s not pretty, but it’s something. We’ve got enough rations for three days if we stretch it, maybe four if we’re clever.”

    “Then clever it is,” Cullen said firmly, crossing his arms. “We need rationing priorities. Children and anyone who can’t move quickly get what they need first. Everyone else will need to make do with less.”

    Isabel nodded, jotting something down. “That’s already in the works. I’ve got people splitting the food evenly for now, but I’ll adjust the portions as you’ve said. Water’s trickier, though—we’re relying on fresh snow and a small stream nearby. I’ve got some Rangers and soldiers rotating shifts to bring it in, but it’s slow.”

    Ariana frowned, leaning over the list in Isabel’s hands. “Can we set up any sort of waystation along the path?” she asked. “Somewhere we can leave supplies to lighten the load?”

    Isabel tapped her quill against the clipboard thoughtfully. “Maybe. If Riley’s scouts find a solid route, I can organize drop points along the way. We’d need enough hands to carry the supplies back and forth without slowing everyone else down.”

    “I’ll assign soldiers to assist with that,” Cullen said quickly, his tone decisive. “Focus on speed and efficiency—we can’t afford to waste time or resources. And we’ll need forward teams to clear the path. Any signs of instability in the terrain, we reroute immediately.”

    Their voices overlapped briefly, neither seeming to mind as their ideas wove together seamlessly. Orders were given, adjusted, and refined without a single argument. Soldiers and Rangers alike moved with renewed purpose, their trust in the pair evident in the way they followed every instruction without question.

    Leliana leaned closer to Cassandra, her sharp eyes observing the interaction. “They work well together,” she remarked quietly.

    “Too well,” Cassandra muttered, though there was no real edge to her words. “It’s almost infuriating.”

    “Almost,” Josephine added with a smile, her gaze flicking to Ariana and Cullen. “But you have to admit, it’s effective.”

    Between the two of them, the camp transformed. Supplies were inventoried, scouting parties dispatched, and routes debated with precision and efficiency. The arguments from earlier felt like a distant memory as the leadership united under the shared goal of survival.

    Ariana and Cullen’s dynamic was impossible to ignore. They complemented each other so naturally that even the most skeptical of onlookers had to admit the strength of their partnership. Where one spoke, the other listened. Where one led, the other supported. Together, they commanded the respect and trust of soldiers, Rangers, and villagers alike.

    As the last orders were given and the camp settled into action, Cullen glanced at Ariana. “We’ll get them there,” he said quietly, his tone carrying an unshakable conviction.

    Ariana met his gaze, her expression softening for a moment. “I know,” she replied simply. “We always do.”

    For the first time since the Breach appeared, the Inquisition felt not only like a cause but like a force to be reckoned with—a family bound by more than survival. They were ready to face whatever came next, together.

  • Chapter 72 – In Your Heart Shall Burn

    23 – 24 Bloomingtide 9:41

    The weight of the moment pressed down on Ariana as Cullen stepped forward, taking command with his usual precision. Yet, she didn’t miss the way his jaw tightened, the way his fingers flexed briefly against the hilt of his sword before settling into their usual unyielding grip. It wasn’t just battle readiness—it was concern.

    For her.

    “What’s happening?” Cassandra demanded, her tone clipped but steady as she approached.

    “One watchguard reporting,” Cullen replied, his gaze locked on the darkened path ahead. “It’s a massive force, the bulk of it moving over the mountain.”

    “Under what banner?” Josephine’s voice rang out as she joined them, breathless from her sprint.

    “None,” Cullen answered curtly, his focus unbroken.

    “None?” Josephine repeated, faltering.

    Riley arrived next, her presence a burst of energy as she clasped Ariana’s shoulder. “Wolf! Reports are strange. We’ve lost contact with some scouts, but they—”

    “They what, Riley?” Ariana pressed, her tone sharper than she intended.

    “They’re saying what’s coming doesn’t look… human,” Riley finished, her words hanging heavy in the air as those around her exchanged uneasy glances.

    Before anyone could respond, a loud pounding echoed from the gates. A young, trembling voice called out from the other side, “I can’t come in unless you open!”

    Ariana stepped forward immediately, her voice cutting through the hesitation of the nearest soldier. “Open them!”

    The gates creaked open, revealing a wiry boy in an oversized hat, his pale face stark against the shadows.

    Before Ariana could speak, a creature lunged from the darkness. The boy moved with inhuman speed, dispatching it effortlessly. The beast collapsed at his feet before anyone had even processed the attack.

    “I’m Cole,” the boy said quietly, his voice both eerie and sincere. “I came to warn you. To help. People are coming to hurt you. You probably already know.”

    The group stared at him, stunned, as his unsettling presence seemed to warp the air around him.

    “The Elder One is very angry,” Cole continued, his pale eyes locking onto Ariana. “You took his mages. The red templars went to him. And he knows you.”

    Ariana’s stomach turned. The Elder One. He knows me.

    Her gaze darted to Cullen, seeking his steadying presence. “Cullen!” she called, her voice sharper than she intended. “Give me a plan! Anything!”

    Cullen’s response was immediate, though the tension in his frame betrayed the pressure he felt. “Haven is no fortress. If we are to withstand this monster, we must control the battle.”

    His words carried weight, grounding the chaos around them. “Get out there and hit that force. Use everything you can!”

    Ariana blinked at him, her mind racing as she processed his words. “Are you sure you’re not getting too comfortable sending me into mortal danger?” she quipped, a faint smirk tugging at her lips.

    Cullen’s jaw tightened, his frustration evident. “Ariana, this is not the time—”

    Riley cut in, smirking despite the tension. “Oh, Commander, you’d better get used to that. She thrives on it.”

    “I am well aware,” Cullen said sharply, his tone clipped as he turned his full focus back to Ariana. “Just—be careful.”

    Her smirk softened, something more genuine flickering in her expression. “I will. I promise.”

    Turning back to the Rangers, Ariana barked orders with practiced efficiency. “Riley, get all warriors and rogues inside Haven to defend in case we fail. Mages and rangers will stand with the Inquisition mages. Shoot everything you can from a distance. And you…” she paused, locking eyes with Riley. “I need you with me.”

    Riley grinned, her sword already drawn. “By your order, Wolf.”

    Valentina and Linnea moved to carry out her commands, leaving Ariana and Riley standing side by side.

    “I’m with you,” Riley said, her grin sharp. “Let’s show these bastards what happens when they come for the White Wolf, shall we?”

    Ariana’s faint smirk returned. “Let’s do it.”

    She turned toward Cullen one last time, catching the tension in his posture, the quiet fear he carried just under the surface. “I’ll survive this,” she said, her voice low, more to herself than anyone else. “I have to.”

    Cullen’s gaze held hers for a moment longer before he nodded. “See that you do.”

    With that, Ariana stepped into the fray, the air around her charged with the anticipation of battle. The celebration was forgotten, the festive glow extinguished by the chaos ahead.

    For Haven. For the Inquisition. For Cullen.

    And for a tomorrow I’m not ready to give up on.

    ~~~

    The battle was chaos. Fire and smoke filled the air, and Haven’s outskirts had become a war zone. Ariana led groups of soldiers through the shattered village, rallying them with sharp orders while following Cullen’s plans. Two massive trebuchets stood as their last hope to trigger an avalanche and cut off the advancing enemy forces.

    The first trebuchet launched, its heavy payload crashing into the mountainside. A thunderous rumble followed as rocks tumbled down, burying part of the enemy force. When the second trebuchet fired, the avalanche roared again, burying even more. For a fleeting moment, cheers echoed across Haven.

    But the victory was short-lived. A deafening roar ripped through the air as fire rained down from above, obliterating the second trebuchet. Ariana’s stomach twisted as the silhouette of a massive dragon soared overhead, its fiery breath lighting the mountainside ablaze.

    “Retreat! Everyone, to the Chantry! Go!” Cullen’s voice cut through the chaos.

    As soldiers and villagers scrambled toward safety, Ariana’s heart sank at the sight of those left behind. Smoke, debris, and shadows obscured the edges of Haven. “Riley!” Ariana shouted, spotting her lieutenant nearby.

    Riley jogged over, her sword already drawn. “Wolf! What’s the plan?”

    “Split up,” Ariana ordered, her voice steady despite the chaos. “Find anyone left on this side of the village. Make sure no one’s left behind.”

    “You got it.” Riley clasped her shoulder firmly. “Watch yourself.”

    Ariana nodded, her expression hardening as Riley moved off with a group of Rangers. She took a breath, her knuckles whitening around the hilts of her daggers. Let’s move.

    Near the tavern, Ariana spotted Flissa pinned under a pile of debris as flames licked dangerously close. “Hold on, Flissa!” she yelled, rushing over.

    With the help of a soldier, she heaved the debris aside, her muscles straining. They pulled Flissa free just as the flames consumed the spot where she had been trapped.

    Flissa coughed violently, her face streaked with soot. “Thank you,” she managed hoarsely.

    “Get to the Chantry. Go now!” Ariana urged.

    Further down, the air was thick with smoke, and the clash of steel rang out like thunder. Near Adan’s workshop, Ariana spotted the alchemist and Minaeve, cornered by three templars. They fought desperately with whatever they could grab—Adan brandished a broken staff, and Minaeve clutched a jagged piece of metal—but it was clear they were outmatched.

    Ariana sprinted toward them, her daggers already drawn. Focus, the voice echoed in her mind, sharp and unyielding. You don’t fight to survive. You fight to win.

    Her boots pounded against the snow as she closed the distance, and the templars turned, their attention snapping to her. Ariana didn’t hesitate. Her blades became extensions of her will, each strike a calculated motion. She darted between them, her body moving like water.

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

    One templar swung wildly, and Ariana sidestepped with precision, her dagger plunging into the gap between his breastplate and helmet. As he fell, she pivoted, parrying another’s overhead strike with her second blade. She ducked low, slicing through his leg and dropping him to his knees. Her dagger flashed again, this time slitting his throat before he could cry out.

    The final templar hesitated, his weapon raised. Her lip curled as she saw the flicker of doubt in his eyes. Hesitation is death. The voice in her mind was cold and cutting, the specter of Krieger’s lessons driving her every move.

    She rushed him before he could recover, feinting left before her dagger struck home. The templar crumpled, blood seeping into the snow, and Ariana didn’t spare him a second glance.

    Adan and Minaeve stared at her, their faces pale but alive. Ariana knelt beside them, her breathing heavy. “Are you alright?” she asked, her voice steady despite the adrenaline roaring in her veins.

    Adan grimaced, clutching his arm. “Bruised, not broken,” he grunted.

    Minaeve winced as she shifted, her leg bloodied. “We’ll make it,” she said, though her voice wavered.

    Ariana’s gaze darted to their injuries, her mind calculating. “Not without help,” she said firmly. She waved over a nearby soldier, her tone sharp and commanding. “Help them to the Chantry. Now.”

    As the soldier moved to assist, Ariana scanned the area for more threats. Her muscles ached, her body battered, but she couldn’t afford to stop. The fight isn’t over until you make it so. The voice lingered, a cruel echo of her past.

    She clenched her fists around her daggers, the worn hilts grounding her. You fight to win. Always.

    As she pressed further, Ariana’s focus sharpened. Her blades cut down another templar as they reached the main path leading to the Chantry. The dragon roared again overhead, its wings stirring the air and spreading ash like snow. Ariana gritted her teeth, pushing herself forward.

    When Ariana finally reached the Chantry, the heavy doors were already closing, the soldiers shouting for reinforcements to hold the barricades. She slipped inside, guiding Minaeve and Adan to safety. Villagers huddled in groups, their faces pale and wide-eyed.

    The tremors from the dragon’s passes shook the ground beneath her feet, but Ariana forced herself to stand steady. She scanned the crowd and exhaled in relief when she spotted Riley guiding another group inside. For now, they had done all they could.

    Ariana leaned heavily against the wall, wiping soot and blood from her face. The dragon’s roar echoed through the mountains, and the sound of the barricades groaning under pressure was a harsh reminder: Haven wasn’t safe.

    Not yet.

    ~~~

    Inside the Chantry, Chancellor Roderick stood at the center of the chaos, directing villagers to safety. His movements were labored, his face pale with pain. He suddenly staggered, and Cole was there in an instant, steadying him.

    “He’s hurt,” Cole said, his tone quiet but certain. “He held off a templar to save some villagers. He’s dying.”

    Before Ariana could process Cole’s words, she heard hurried footsteps. Riley and Cullen approached, their expressions urgent. Cullen reached her first, grabbing her arm and turning her toward him.

    “Are you alright?” he asked, his eyes scanning her for injuries.

    “I’m fine,” she replied quickly.

    “Are you sure?” His voice softened, but his gaze was intense. “When I got here and you weren’t—”

    “I’m fine,” she repeated firmly, though her expression betrayed a flicker of something unspoken. “What’s happening?”

    Cullen took a steadying breath and recomposed himself. “Ariana, our position is not good. That dragon stole back any time you might have earned us.”

    Cole, still at Roderick’s side, interjected, “I’ve seen an Archdemon. I was in the Fade, but it looked like that.”

    “I don’t care what it looks like,” Cullen snapped, his tone hard. “It has cut a path for that army. They’ll kill everyone in Haven!”

    “The Elder One doesn’t care about the village,” Cole added, his voice distant, strange. “He only wants the Herald.”

    Ariana’s breath caught for a moment, but her voice remained steady. “If it will save these people, he can have me.”

    “No!” Riley’s voice cut through the air, sharp and immediate. “Are you out of your damned mind, Wolf? That is not an option.”

    Cole shook his head, his otherworldly calm unshaken. “It won’t. He wants to kill you. No one else matters, but he’ll crush them, kill them anyway. I don’t like him.”

    Riley threw up her hands, exasperation clear. “You don’t like…? What does that even—”

    Cullen cut her off, his tone grim. “There are no tactics to make this survivable. The only thing that slowed them was the avalanche. We could turn the remaining trebuchets, cause one last slide.”

    Ariana’s brow furrowed in disbelief. “You mean to bury Haven?”

    “We’re dying, but we can decide how. Many don’t get that choice,” Cullen said, his voice tight with resolve.

    Riley rounded on him. “This is madness! ‘Fight to the death’ is not a plan! Wolf, tell me you’re not considering this.”

    Before Ariana could respond, Cole glanced at Roderick. “He can help.”

    Roderick struggled to his feet, leaning heavily on Cole for support. “There is a path,” he began, his voice faint. “You wouldn’t know it unless you’d made the summer pilgrimage. As I have.”

    “What are you talking about, Roderick?” Ariana asked, stepping closer, her tone insistent.

    “It was whim that I walked the path,” he said, his voice growing steadier. “I did not mean to start—it was overgrown. But now, with so many in the Conclave dead, to be the only one who remembers. If this memory can save us…” He paused, meeting her gaze. “You could be more. The Inquisition could be more.”

    Ariana’s thoughts raced. She forced herself to breathe, to think. Finally, she nodded, her voice steady. “Riley, Cullen—get the people out. Follow Chancellor Roderick and get everyone to safety.”

    “And when the mountain falls? What about you?” Cullen’s voice sharpened, his concern unmistakable.

    Ariana cast her gaze downward briefly, her voice steady but firm. “Don’t have time to think about that now. Go!”

    “No, Wolf,” Riley said angrily, stepping closer and grabbing Ariana’s arm. “I won’t allow it. You go.”

    “Riley, that won’t work,” Ariana insisted, her voice rising with urgency. “He’s here for me. I need to keep him focused on me while you all get to safety. Now go—that’s an order.”

    Riley’s jaw tightened, her reluctance clear in every line of her face. She searched Ariana’s gaze, looking for a way to argue. Finally, she straightened, her voice strained. “By your order, Wolf,” she said reluctantly, saluting.

    “Inquisition!” Cullen called. “Follow Chancellor Roderick through the Chantry! Move!”

    Cole helped Roderick toward the passage, but the Chancellor paused before leaving. “Herald… if you are meant for this, if the Inquisition is meant for this, I pray for you.”

    “Ready to do this, pup?” Varric asked, stepping next to her with Bianca in hand.

    “No, Varric. Go. Get these people to safety,” Ariana pleaded, her voice betraying some of her fear.

    Varric shifted his weight and adopted his usual confident stance. “I’m staying, Pup. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

    “Absolutely not. Hawke would kill me if I let you die here,” Ariana replied, somewhat teasingly yet afraid.

    “And Hawke would kill me if I let you go alone, so…” Varric quipped, shrugging his shoulder to imply she had no choice.

    Ariana smiled and shook her head, knowing she would never convince Varric to leave her. For that, she was more grateful than she could ever say.

    Cullen stepped forward, his voice commanding as he pointed toward a group of soldiers. “They’ll load the trebuchets. We need to keep the Elder One’s attention until the Inquisition is above the tree line. If they are to have a chance—if you we are to have a chance—let that thing hear you.”

    “We? Cullen, you need to go with them. You need to survive this.” she said, stepping closer. “The Inquisition needs you. Thedas needs you.”

    “No,” he said firmly. “The Inquisition needs you.

    She shook her head, her voice soft but resolute. “You’re wrong. It’s you, Cullen. You’re the one they’ll follow. You’re the leader Thedas needs right now. And when I think about everything I’ve fought for… everything I’ve survived, it’s you. You inspire me, Cullen. Now you have to do the same for them.”

    Ariana’s hand trembled slightly as she reached for her ring. Her fingers brushed against the cool metal, and for a moment, she hesitated. The weight of it was far greater than its size—a symbol of promises made, of dreams whispered in moments stolen between battles and chaos.

    This isn’t giving up, she told herself, her throat tightening as she slid the ring from her finger. This is ensuring it survives, that it means something beyond today.

    The metal caught the faint light of the Chantry’s flickering torches, a glint of silver against the dark storm of thoughts in her mind. It wasn’t just a ring; it was the life they had planned together, the hope she’d clung to through all the uncertainty. Giving it up felt like severing a lifeline, like leaving behind a piece of herself.

    But she couldn’t falter. Not now.

    She turned to Cullen, holding the ring out to him, her voice soft but steady. “Take this,” she whispered. “Keep it safe. Keep us safe.”

    “I can’t,” he said hoarsely, his voice breaking. “Ariana, I can’t lose you.”

    She smiled faintly, though tears shimmered in her eyes. “You won’t. I’ll always be with you. And you’ll win this fight. You’re the best of us.”

    His hand hovered over hers for a moment before he reluctantly closed his fingers around the ring. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything—his throat was too tight—but the anguish in his eyes spoke volumes.

    She offered a faint, reassuring smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Goodbye, Cullen.”

    She turned to leave, but his hand caught her wrist. Before she could react, he pulled her back toward him, one arm wrapping around her waist, the other cradling the side of her neck. He kissed her, desperate and fierce, as if trying to convey everything he feared might be left unsaid.

    Ariana threw her arms around him as she kissed him back, equally resolute. When they finally pulled apart, she rested her forehead against his, her voice barely above a whisper. “I love you. I have always loved you. I always will.”

    Cullen pulled her close, his voice trembling as he tried to summon the strength he needed. “Survive this,” he said, his tone softening just enough to mirror their shared moment from before. “That’s an order.”

    Her lips curved faintly at the echo of his earlier words, a fleeting moment of solace in the storm raging around them. Though her tears threatened to betray her, her voice remained steady. “By your order, Commander.”

    The words hung between them, heavy with unspoken fears and unyielding hope. Cullen’s fingers lingered on hers for a moment longer before she stepped back, unsheathing her daggers. She turned and ran from the Chantry, the heavy doors closing behind her with a resounding finality that felt like the last beat of her heart.

    ~~~

    As she exited the Chantry, Ariana and Varric were immediately greeted by a group of red templars. “Come and get me then! I’m here!” she shouted, her voice cutting through the chaos. Anger fueled her, but beneath it, there was a strange sense of lightness—a clarity. If this is the end, at least Cullen knows the truth.

    “You’re yelling at templars now?” Varric called out, cocking Bianca. “Next, you’ll be inviting them to tea.”

    “Maybe that would distract them,” Ariana shot back, her daggers flashing as she darted into the fray.

    Her body moved instinctively, every strike precise, every dodge calculated.

    Don’t think, Ariana. Act.

    The thought came unbidden, almost natural. She sidestepped a templar’s overhead swing, her dagger plunging into his side. A second templar lunged, and she twisted, her blade catching him under the chin.

    “Remind me to stay on your good side,” Varric quipped, taking a shot that brought another templar to his knees.

    “Don’t you always,” Ariana replied, her voice tight but with a hint of a smile. Cullen would roll his eyes if he heard us. Maker, I hope he gets the chance.

    They pressed forward, the chaos of the battle surrounding them. Haven’s supply caches proved invaluable, allowing Ariana to quickly mix grenades and gather potions as they moved through the burning village.

    “I’ve seen better celebrations,” Varric said as they ducked behind cover to catch their breath. “This one’s a little heavy on the fire and death.”

    “I’ll make sure the next one has more cake and wine,” Ariana replied dryly, tossing a grenade into an approaching group of templars. The explosion lit up the area, sending fragments of red lyrium scattering.

    “You’re spoiling me now,” Varric said with a grin.

    The banter lightened the weight of the moment, but as they moved closer to the trebuchet, the air grew heavier with smoke, ash, and heat. Ariana’s breaths came faster, though her resolve never wavered. Every step felt heavier than the last, as if each one took her further from everything she fought to protect. But what else could she do? The only way to save Haven was to gamble everything.

    The final trebuchet loomed ahead, already loaded but needing to be turned to face the mountain. Ariana’s hands worked quickly, her fingers deftly adjusting the massive structure, all the while glancing over her shoulder for any sign of approaching enemies.

    “You’ve got this, right?” Varric asked, his tone only half-joking as he looked at the glowing Breach in the distance.

    “Go back to the Chantry,” Ariana said firmly. “Now.”

    Varric hesitated, his gaze flicking between her and the trebuchet. “Not exactly a fan of leaving you here alone, kid.”

    “I’ll be fine,” she insisted, her voice steady. “They need you back there more than I do. Go.”

    Varric gave her one last look before nodding. “Fine. Just don’t do anything stupid.”

    “Like triggering an avalanche, you mean? Never,” she said with a faint smile, already turning her focus back to the trebuchet.

    As Varric disappeared into the smoke, Ariana’s world narrowed to the task at hand. Her movements were quick, precise, each adjustment bringing the trebuchet closer to firing position. She barely registered the roar of the dragon overhead until it was nearly upon her.

    The air exploded with heat and fire as the dragon’s breath engulfed the area, scorching everything around her. The shockwave from the blast sent her sprawling to the ground. As she struggled to her feet, flames crackled around her, and through the heat and smoke, a figure emerged.

    “Enough!” the figure bellowed, its voice resonating with unnatural power. With a flick of his hand, a blast of energy struck her, forcing her back. “Pretender. You toy with forces beyond your ken. No more.”

     This is it, she thought, her breath hitching as the figure approached. Every fiber of her being screamed at her to run, to fight, but something about him felt insurmountable. What is he?

    “What are you? Why are you doing this? What do you want?” she demanded, forcing her voice to steady.

    “Mortals beg for truth they cannot have. It is beyond what you are, what I was. Know me. Know what you have pretended to be. Exalt the Elder One! The will that is Corypheus! You will kneel.”

    The words hit her harder than any physical blow. This is the one who has been hunting me. The one who has taken everything from us. Her hand clenched around the hilt of her dagger. “I will never yield to you. I will never kneel,” she shot back, her voice filled with defiance.

    “You will resist,” Corypheus said, his tone almost amused. “You will always resist. It matters not.”

    He raised a strange orb, its surface pulsing with a sickly red glow. The mark on Ariana’s hand flared in response, sending waves of searing pain through her arm. She clutched it, barely managing to stay upright.

    “It is your fault, ‘Herald,’” Corypheus sneered. “You interrupted a ritual years in the planning, and instead of dying, you stole its purpose. I do not know how you survived, but what marks you as ‘touched,’ what you flail at rifts, I crafted to assault the very heavens.”

    The pain drove Ariana to her knees, her breath ragged as she fought to maintain control. The world around her blurred, her vision narrowing to the orb and the mark that now pulsed in unison.

    “And you used the Anchor to undo my work! The gall!” Corypheus continued, his voice filled with fury.

    He strode toward her, gripping her left arm and lifting her as though she weighed nothing. His grip was like iron, and his words dripped with malice.

    “I once breached the Fade in the name of another, to serve the Old Gods of the empire in person,” he said, his tone almost contemplative. “I found only chaos and corruption. Dead whispers. For a thousand years I was confused. No more. I have gathered the will to return under no name but my own, to champion withered Tevinter and correct this blighted world. Beg that I succeed, for I have seen the throne of the gods, and it was empty.”

    With a snarl, he hurled her against the trebuchet. Ariana’s body slammed into the wooden structure, the impact rattling her bones. Gritting her teeth, she scrambled to her feet, her hand brushing against a discarded sword. She picked it up, readying herself.

    Cullen believes in me. The Rangers believe in me. And I have to believe in myself.

    Corypheus sighed, his tone bored. “The Anchor is permanent. You have spoiled it with your stumbling. So be it. I will begin again, find another way to give this world the nation—and god—it requires.”

    From the corner of her eye, Ariana caught sight of a flare in the distance. The signal. The villagers were above the treeline. Relief surged through her when she spotted the signal flare in the distance. They’re safe. They made it.

    “And you,” he spat, raising a hand to signal his dragon, “I will not suffer even an unknowing rival. You must die.”

    As Corypheus’s tirade continued, Ariana’s focus sharpened. She dropped the sword she had picked up, stepping back toward the trebuchet lever. Her voice cut through his rant, calm and defiant. “Your arrogance blinds you. Good to know. If I’m dying… it’s not today!”

    With a swift motion, she kicked the lever. The trebuchet fired, its massive boulder slamming into the mountainside and triggering a massive avalanche. Snow and rock thundered down, engulfing the battlefield. Corypheus’s dragon wrapped its wings around him, carrying him away as the world collapsed around them.

    Ariana turned, spotting a gap in the ground—a hidden structure partially buried in the snow. Without hesitation, she leaped toward it, crashing through a wooden cover just as the avalanche consumed everything above. Darkness swallowed her as she fell.

    ~~~

    The chill of the ice beneath her armor was what finally roused Ariana. She opened her eyes slowly, her vision swimming as the world around her came into focus. Above her, the ceiling of a natural cavern loomed, the jagged edges of rock glistening faintly in the dim light emanating from her mark.

    The pain hit all at once when she tried to move—a sharp, unrelenting ache in her side that made her gasp. Broken ribs. Probably more than one. She gritted her teeth, pressing a hand to her side as she pushed herself up to sit. Every breath was shallow, the pain clawing at her chest.

    Her mark pulsed brighter than usual, the green glow casting eerie shadows on the cavern walls. She stared at it, frowning. Well, at least I’m not completely in the dark. Convenient, she thought bitterly, letting out a soft, wry chuckle that immediately made her ribs protest. The sound surprised her, almost absurd in the eerie stillness. Only I would laugh at a time like this. Cullen would be so mad at me right now.

    “This wasn’t one of my better ideas,” she muttered under her breath, her voice echoing faintly in the cavern. “But at least I’m alive… so far.”

    Her legs were stiff, her body bruised from the fall, but Ariana managed to stand. The movement sent another wave of sharp pain through her side, nearly knocking her back down. She leaned against the icy wall for support, biting back a curse.

    How long have I been here? she wondered, her thoughts hazy. Minutes? Hours? Days? The thought of everyone assuming she was dead sent a sharp pang through her chest—not from fear, but frustration. If they thought she was gone, would they give up on the fight? Would Cullen…?

    Her jaw tightened. No. He wouldn’t. He’ll rally them. He’ll survive. He has to.

    Straightening as best she could, Ariana limped forward into the tunnel, the green glow of her mark lighting her way. Each step sent shocks of pain through her body, but she pressed on, her determination outweighing the agony. One step at a time, she told herself. Just keep moving.

    The cavern seemed endless, the cold biting at her skin and seeping into her bones. Every shadow seemed to shift, every sound echoed unnervingly. Yet she kept going, her focus narrowing to the rhythm of her steps and the flickering light of her mark.

    She was so focused on moving forward that the attack took her by surprise. A demon lunged from the shadows, its form twisting unnaturally as it snarled. Ariana reached for her daggers but grasped at empty space. The realization hit her like a blow. I lost them. In Haven.

    Don’t think, Ariana. Act.

    The voice in her mind was clear, commanding, instinctive. She threw herself to the side, narrowly avoiding the demon’s strike. Her body twisted, her movements sharper, faster than they should have been given her injuries. Her instincts took over, guided by years of training—and by his voice.

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

    The demon lunged again, and her mark flared. A wave of energy exploded outward, forcing the creature back. Ariana staggered, her arm burning as the mark glowed brighter. Her vision swam, but she raised her hand, instincts screaming for control.

    The air crackled and shifted. A rift tore open before her, its sickly green light illuminating the cavern. The demon shrieked, its form twisting as it was pulled into the void. The rift sealed itself with a final burst of light, leaving Ariana alone in the sudden stillness.

    Her breath came in ragged gasps as she lowered her hand, staring at the now-empty space where the rift had been. Her mark throbbed painfully, the glow dimming slightly. “What the hell was that?” she murmured, her voice shaky. “Well, at least it worked.”

    And I’m still alive. That’s what matters.

    The light of her mark illuminated a narrow passage ahead, and she followed it, her steps slower but no less determined. The pain in her body was a constant companion, but she pushed it aside. *Focus. One step closer to Cullen. *

    Eventually, she saw it: a faint glimmer of light in the distance. Her heart leapt at the sight, hope surging through her battered frame. She quickened her pace, ignoring the sharp protests from her ribs and leg.

    The light grew brighter as she approached, and finally, she stepped out into the open. The cold hit her like a wall, the howling wind tearing at her coat and stinging her skin. Snow swirled around her, obscuring her vision, but she was outside. She was free.

    Her relief was short-lived. The blizzard raged around her, the landscape a blur of white and gray. The cold seeped through her armor, biting into her flesh and making her shiver uncontrollably.

    “Oh… a blizzard. Of course. Why not?” she muttered, her voice barely audible over the wind.

    She scanned her surroundings, searching for any sign of the Inquisition. The snow was deep, the trail she’d followed barely visible. But there were signs—trampled snow, broken branches. They had come this way. She just had to follow.

    Her thoughts drifted to Cullen, the memory of his voice a tether. She pictured his face, his warmth, the way his eyes softened when they met hers. He’s waiting for me. He has my ring. I’ll follow that star one more time.

    The thought gave her strength, her resolve hardening. She wasn’t ready to give up. Not yet. Not when there was still so much to fight for.

    She stumbled, her leg giving out beneath her. The snow cushioned her fall, but the cold seeped into her bones, making her limbs feel heavy and unresponsive. She forced herself up, her body trembling from the effort.

    “Come on,” she muttered through clenched teeth. “Just a little further.”

    Her vision blurred, her thoughts growing hazy, but she kept moving. One step at a time, one breath at a time. She wasn’t going to stop. She wasn’t going to die here.

    By your order, Commander.

    ~~~

    Riley stood amidst a cluster of Rangers, her sharp eyes scanning the icy expanse beyond their makeshift camp. The air was biting, her breath visible in the frigid morning as she addressed her team with urgency. The sharp wind cut through even the thickest cloaks, but Riley barely noticed. Her focus was fixed on the search.

    “Valentina, Linnea, Lamberto,” she began, her voice firm and steady despite the turmoil in her chest. “We’re splitting into scouting parties. I want every path that could lead back to Haven mapped and searched. We’re looking for survivors, supplies, and any sign of Wolf.”

    Valentina, her brown hair dusted with frost, nodded with conviction. “We’ll take the southern ridge. It’s narrow, but if anyone managed to escape, they might have taken that route.”

    Linnea adjusted her heavy cloak, her expression thoughtful. “I’ll take my team northward. There’s an old hunting trail up there. If she’s alive, she might have tried to get higher ground.”

    Lamberto, the oldest of the group, crossed his arms and spoke gruffly. “I’ll circle back toward the lower paths. If there are any stragglers or wounded, that’s where they’ll be.”

    Riley nodded, her expression set. “Good. Make sure every team is prepared for the cold and carry flares. If you find anything—anything at all—you signal immediately. And mark hazards. We can’t afford to lose anyone else.”

    Valentina hesitated, her green eyes meeting Riley’s. “And what about you? Where will you be?”

    Riley’s gaze hardened, though her voice was calm. “I’ll be coordinating from here and joining any search party that finds a lead. Wolf’s out there, and we’re going to bring her back.”

    The Rangers dispersed swiftly, their movements practiced and efficient. Riley remained, her thoughts racing as she considered their options. Haven had been a massacre, but she refused to believe Ariana was gone. She survived the Blight. She survived Krieger. She survived Kirkwall. She’s alive. Riley clung to that certainty like a lifeline, her faith in Ariana’s resilience unshakable.

    The sound of boots crunching in the snow drew her attention. Cullen approached, his expression a mix of weariness and determination. The snow clung to his shoulders, and the shadows under his eyes spoke of his despair. Despite her own exhaustion, Riley straightened her posture, her voice steady as she greeted him.

    “Organizing the search,” she said simply, anticipating his question. “We need to find her.”

    Cullen’s brow furrowed, his concern evident. “The chances…” He trailed off, his golden eyes scanning the distant peaks. “Riley, we barely got out ourselves. Haven is…” He hesitated, as though saying the words would make them more real.

    Riley’s expression didn’t waver. “She’s alive,” she said firmly, her voice cutting through the chill. “I refuse to believe otherwise. Wolf doesn’t go down without a fight.”

    Cullen’s lips pressed into a thin line, his shoulders tensing. “And if she isn’t?” he asked quietly, the words heavy with guilt.

    “I know it,” Riley replied, her tone unwavering. “But I also know she’s injured, freezing, and likely pushing herself harder than she should. She needs us. She needs me. And I’ll be damned if I let her down.”

    She hesitated for a moment, her voice dropping slightly. “You weren’t there during the Blight, Commander. I watched her stand against a horde of darkspawn the day we saved her. I saw her pull people from the ruins of villages, clear battlefields, survive—” Riley stopped short, her lips pressing into a thin line, the unspoken word lingering between them.

    Cullen’s brows furrowed at the sudden pause, but he didn’t press her. Whatever she had almost said hung in the air like a shadow, and he could feel the weight of it in her tone. There was a flicker of something in his gaze—an emotion that Riley couldn’t quite place. Vulnerability? Determination? It was gone as quickly as it appeared.

    “You truly believe she can survive this?” he asked, his voice quieter.

    “I know it,” Riley replied, her tone unwavering. “But I also know she’s injured, freezing, and probably pushing herself harder than she should. She needs us. She needs me. And I’ll be damned if I let her down.”

    Cullen exhaled slowly, his gaze shifting to the snow-covered expanse beyond the camp. The distant peaks were shrouded in mist, their paths treacherous and unforgiving. Finally, he nodded, his voice low but resolute. “Then go. Find her.”

    Riley inclined her head, her resolve solidifying. “Thank you, Commander. But don’t lose yourself in this,” she added, her tone softening. “We need you here. Keep the camp together.”

    For a moment, Cullen’s expression softened, his eyes meeting hers with a flicker of trust. “If anyone can find her, it’s you,” he said, his voice steady but laced with emotion.

    Riley turned back to the Rangers, her steps purposeful as she prepared to join the search herself. Behind her, Cullen lingered at the edge of the clearing, his breath visible in the frigid air. His gaze remained fixed on the mountains, his thoughts unreadable.

    Don’t get dead, Wolf. Riley’s silent prayer echoed in her mind as she stepped into the cold, the weight of her determination a shield against the unforgiving snow.

    ~~~

    Ariana stumbled upon the remnants of a campfire, her heart giving a faint flutter of hope before reality set in. The ashes were blackened, cold, and dusted with snow. Kneeling beside the debris, her trembling fingers sifted through it, the frigid air numbing her movements. Nothing. The faint spark of possibility was extinguished as quickly as it came.

    “It’s cold… nothing,” she murmured, her voice thin against the roar of the wind. She exhaled sharply, watching her breath curl into faint clouds that dissolved into the icy air. “Lucky me.”

    Her eyes scanned the area, desperate for anything—a scrap of cloth, a hint of warmth—but there was nothing. The Inquisition had moved on, their faint traces scattered by the blizzard. Wrapping her arms around herself, she tried to summon some courage against the cold that gnawed relentlessly at her.

    The trail stretched endlessly before her, but every step felt heavier, her strength sapping with each agonizing movement. Her right leg throbbed with every shift of weight, forcing her to rely on her left, which was rapidly growing numb. The blizzard didn’t relent, its icy claws wrapping tighter around her with every gust.

    Ariana turned back to the fire’s remains, the idea of rekindling it flickering through her mind. She crouched again, her frozen hands clawing at the charred wood. It was soaked through, as useless as her own dwindling reserves. She pressed her hands together, willing warmth into them, her mark flickering faintly in response. No choice but to keep moving.

    The cold seeped deeper, through armor and skin, gnawing at the edges of her mind. Her ribs ached with every shallow breath, a cruel reminder of her fragility. Doubt crept in, quiet but insidious, whispering at the edges of her resolve.

    Is it even worth continuing?

    The thought lingered, sharp and unwelcome, but then Cullen’s face filled her mind. His voice, steady and warm, soothed the edges of her fear. She thought of the way he made her feel—safe, cherished, and challenged all at once. She pictured his hand reaching for hers, the warmth in his gaze when he looked at her, the strength he lent her simply by being. He was her anchor, her tether to hope. And her ring. Maker, her ring. She’d given it to him to keep, and now she needed it back.

    Her fingers curled against her side, pressing against the bruised ribs as if holding herself together. No. It’s worth it. For him. For all of them.

    Gritting her teeth, Ariana forced herself upright, her legs shaking beneath her weight. Every movement was agony, her body screaming for rest, but she pressed on. She stumbled, catching herself on the snow-laden ground, her breaths coming in ragged bursts.

    That’s when she heard them.

    The low growls were faint at first, carried by the wind, but they were unmistakable. Wolves. The sound sent a chill down her spine that had nothing to do with the cold. Were they hunting her? Her heart thudded painfully against her ribs, the sound reverberating in her ears.

    She let out a soft, bitter laugh, her voice barely audible over the storm. “I should’ve stayed in bed today,” she muttered, her tone dry despite the fear creeping through her.

    The growls grew louder, closer, their guttural tones slicing through the howling wind. Her hand instinctively reached for a weapon, but the dagger that should have been strapped to her thigh was gone—lost in the chaos of Haven. She was defenseless, save for her wits and the faintly glowing mark on her hand.

    Most people break under pressure. You don’t.

    The voice was clear, calm, and commanding—his voice. Krieger. The phantom presence that pushed her forward when everything seemed bleakest. Ariana hated it, hated the strength it brought, hated the shadow it cast over her soul. But she didn’t deny it. She couldn’t. Not now.

    Her breathing steadied as the words settled into her bones. She straightened slightly, the pain in her side a reminder of her limits but also of her survival. She was still standing. She was still moving. And that’s all that matters.

    She pushed forward, each step a defiance of the cold and exhaustion dragging at her limbs. The wolves’ howls echoed behind her, a grim reminder of how precarious her position was. But she didn’t look back. She couldn’t afford to. Her focus remained on the faint trail ahead, the signs that the Inquisition had passed through.

    Cullen was alive. She had to believe that. The thought of his arms around her, his steady presence beside her, was the only thing keeping her from falling apart. She couldn’t let herself falter—not when he was waiting for her. Not when she still had a promise to keep.

    One more step, she told herself. One more breath.

    The howls faded into the storm, the cold biting at her every inch. But Ariana kept moving, the memory of Cullen’s voice a lifeline against the void. She would find him. She would survive this.

    She had to.

    ~~~

    Cullen stood at the edge of the camp, his gloved hands wrapped tightly around a small, familiar object. The weight of the ring in his palm was nothing compared to the ache in his chest. He turned it over carefully, the firelight catching on the polished blue stone at its center, making it gleam like a shard of the morning sky. This was more than a ring—it was a promise, one they hadn’t been able to keep all those years ago.

    The cold wind bit at his face, carrying the last remnants of the blizzard, but Cullen hardly noticed. His attention was fixed on the jagged peaks beyond the camp, now shrouded in a pale, swirling mist. Somewhere out there, Silver Rangers were searching. They clung to the belief that Ariana, the White Wolf, was alive. That she had survived the avalanche and the cold.

    He closed his hand around the ring, the edges digging into his palm. If Riley’s right, he thought, his jaw tightening, if somehow she’s alive, I won’t waste another moment.

    Memories of Ariana consumed him as he stood in the icy stillness. He thought of Kirkwall, the shared smiles that made the oppressive city seem lighter, the stolen moments of laughter amidst their struggles. He remembered the way she used to argue with him, fiery and determined, refusing to back down even when he was certain she would. The nights they spent dreaming of something better—dreams that felt fragile but real when she was beside him.

    And then there was her voice the night she returned from Redcliffe, filled with a mix of sorrow and hope: I need you. That unspoken connection had pulled him back to her, time and time again.

    Most of all, he thought of her standing in the Chantry, her voice trembling but steady as she said the words that had been etched into his heart ever since: I have always loved you.

    The thought of losing her again—truly losing her this time—was unbearable. If the Maker granted him even one more chance, he would make it count. Cullen’s grip on the ring tightened. He would put it back on her finger, not as a memory of the life they’d once planned but as a promise for the future. He would marry her, no matter the challenges ahead. Nothing else mattered anymore. Whatever secrets she carried, whatever shadows still lingered, they would face them together. He wouldn’t let her go.

    “Commander.” Leliana’s voice broke through his reverie. Cullen slipped the ring back into his pocket and turned, his posture stiffening. The spymaster approached with measured steps, her expression calm but her eyes sharp.

    “We’ve received reports from the scouts,” she said, gesturing toward the group gathered around the map table. “They’ve identified a few potential routes through the pass to the north. It’s dangerous terrain, but it’s our best chance to find shelter and regroup.”

    Cullen followed her to the table, where Cassandra, Josephine, Riley, and Solas were deep in discussion. The hastily sketched trails on the map before them painted a grim picture—narrow paths, steep drops, and the constant threat of frostbite or ambush. He listened as Cassandra outlined the risks, as Josephine calculated the logistics of moving so many through treacherous terrain. Riley stood nearby, arms crossed, her face grim but focused.

    The tension was palpable, but before anyone could speak further, a sharp voice rang out:

    “Lieutenant! Lieutenant Riley!”

    Cullen and the others turned as a young man sprinted toward them, his breath clouding the cold air. It was Elliot, one of Riley’s most dependable scouts. His face was flushed, his eyes wide with urgency.

    “What is it?” Riley demanded, stepping forward to meet him.

    Elliot skidded to a stop, his words tumbling out in hurried gasps. “The scouts… in the pass… west. They think they saw someone.”

    Riley’s eyes narrowed. “Someone?” she repeated, her voice dangerously low. “What do you mean?”

    Elliot took a deep breath, steadying himself. “They think it’s Wolf.”

    The world seemed to stop. The muffled conversations of the camp, the distant howl of the wind—all of it faded into silence in Cullen’s ears. His chest tightened, and his legs moved before his mind could catch up. He didn’t wait for further explanation. He was already running.

    The snow crunched beneath his boots as he sprinted toward the western edge of the camp, his breath coming in sharp, visible bursts. Behind him, he heard Riley shouting, her voice sharp and commanding.

    “Commander, wait!” she yelled, her own footsteps pounding in the snow as she followed. Cullen barely registered it. His focus was entirely on the distant peaks, the faint hope burning like a fire in his chest.

    Cassandra’s armor clinked faintly as she joined the pursuit, and other Rangers moved swiftly to follow. The group’s urgency mirrored Cullen’s own, but none of them could match the desperation that drove him forward.

    His mind raced with every step, his thoughts a storm of fear and hope. He pictured her face, her stubborn smile, the light in her eyes when she teased him. The image was so vivid it hurt. Please, Maker… let it be her.

    The mist grew thicker as he neared the edge of the camp, the jagged mountains looming closer. His heart pounded, the weight of the ring in his pocket pressing against him like a reminder of everything he couldn’t lose. He pushed harder, his breath ragged, his determination unshaken.

    If it’s her… I’m never letting go.

    ~~~

    The cold wind howled through the narrow pass, whipping snow into blinding swirls around Ariana as she knelt by the remnants of a campfire. The faint glow of embers was her only solace, a fragile reminder that she wasn’t entirely lost in the wilderness. Her trembling hands hovered over the dying warmth, though they were too numb to feel much of anything. Each shallow breath sent stabbing pain through her broken ribs, but she didn’t care anymore. She had pushed beyond pain, beyond exhaustion.

    The wolves’ howls echoed closer now, threading through the storm like taunts. They had been following her for hours—or maybe it had been days. Time was meaningless in this frozen hell.

    I can’t stop here, she told herself, though her thoughts were sluggish, weighed down by the cold and despair. She clenched her fists against the numbing frost, forcing her legs to move. One step. Then another. Keep moving.

    Ariana forced herself upright, her legs trembling beneath her weight. The snow was deep, each step a battle, but she pressed on. The trail narrowed as it wound through jagged rocks and frost-laden trees. Her vision blurred with fatigue, her body screaming for rest. Then, through the haze, she saw them—lights flickering against the storm, steady and warm.

    Campfires. Tents. The Inquisition.

    A sob escaped her lips, half-formed and caught in her throat. Relief surged through her chest, but her legs gave out, sending her crumpling into the snow. She tried to crawl, her fingers clawing at the icy ground, but the effort was futile. The cold began to seep in, numbing her body further, but she no longer cared. The light was there, so close.

    The wolves’ howls were drowned out by a different sound—footsteps, voices calling out, urgent and clear. One voice rose above the others, cutting through the storm like a beacon.

    “There! It’s her!”

    That voice… Cullen?

    Strong arms enveloped her, lifting her from the icy ground with a gentleness that belied their strength. Her head lolled against a warm chest, and through her fading consciousness, she caught the faint scent of elderflower and oakmoss. Familiar. Comforting.

    “You’re safe now,” Cullen murmured, his voice low and trembling. His cheek brushed hers as he tightened his hold, shielding her from the biting wind. “I’ve got you, love. I’ve got you.”

    The sudden shift in position sent a jolt of pain through her ribs, and Ariana flinched, a small gasp escaping her lips. Cullen froze for a moment, then adjusted his grip, one arm cradling her back more securely while the other supported her legs, careful to avoid putting pressure on her injuries.

    “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice raw with guilt. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

    Ariana wanted to tell him it was fine, that it didn’t matter, but her lips barely moved. The effort to speak was too much. Instead, she let herself sink into his arms, trusting his strength, his presence.

    The world wavered around her, the lights of the camp fading into blurred halos. She felt the warmth of his embrace, heard the steadiness of his heartbeat, and realized she was safe now. In his arms.

    I made it. I kept my promise.

    The corners of her lips curved into the faintest smile as darkness claimed her.

  • 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.