7 – 23 Justinian 9:34
As Cullen walked out of the library, Ariana let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. The tension in the room lingered for a moment longer, like a phantom of the confrontation that had just passed. She turned slowly, her gaze drifting back to the empty space where he had stood only seconds before.
He believed me.
Relief washed over her, soft but fleeting. She had lied to him, or rather she had skirted the truth. She never said she wasn’t involved, she just implied that she knew less than she did. She let his report do the rest. It had been almost too easy to let the truth hide behind carefully chosen words and her steady gaze. Too easy to hurt him like that.
Ariana moved toward the fireplace, the heat of the flames brushing against her face as she sank heavily into one of the armchairs. The soft cushion did little to comfort her. She leaned forward, pressing her hands together tightly as she stared into the fire’s depths.
I can’t tell him. Not now. Maybe not ever.
The thought made her stomach churn. Cullen—who trusted her, who loved her—deserved better. She knew that. But the risk of telling him the truth… of losing him entirely… was too much to bear. And even if he could understand, the fallout would destroy them both.
“Maker, what am I doing?” she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible over the crackle of the fire.
The sound of footsteps broke her trance, and she looked up to see Isabel walking into the library. Ariana straightened instinctively, brushing her fingers quickly under her eyes as if to erase any lingering evidence of her guilt.
Isabel paused, frowning as she took in Ariana’s distant gaze. “What happened?” she asked, her tone cautious but knowing.
Ariana didn’t answer at first, her eyes dropping to the floor as she leaned back into the armchair. The silence stretched, but Isabel didn’t move. Finally, Ariana exhaled and looked up.
“Cullen received a report about the intercepted mage transport,” she said quietly. “He asked me about it—the ambush”
Isabel’s brow furrowed, her frown deepening. “And what did you tell him?”
Ariana swallowed. “I implied I wasn’t involved. That I didn’t know anything about it.”
“Ariana…” Isabel’s voice carried both warning and disappointment, and she shook her head as she crossed her arms. “Tell me you didn’t.”
“What else was I supposed to do?” Ariana shot back, her tone sharper than she intended. She pushed herself upright, her hands gripping the arms of the chair. “If I told him the truth, Isabel, do you know what that would mean? What it would do to him?” She ran a hand through her hair, her voice trembling. “He’d have no choice but to turn me in or lie for me—and he’s already so conflicted about the state of the Order.”
Isabel took a step closer, her gaze firm. “And what do you think this is doing to him now? Every time he looks at you, he’s wondering what’s real and what’s another truth you’ve twisted to protect him. How much longer before that doubt eats him alive—or worse, tears you both apart?”
“You think I don’t know what this is doing to him?” Ariana snapped, but her voice broke halfway, betraying the ache behind her frustration. “I see it every time he looks at me, Isabel. Every single time.”
Isabel’s voice softened slightly, but her frustration was still clear. “This isn’t going to end well, Ariana. You can’t keep living like this—half in one life, half in another. It’s tearing you apart, Ariana, and it’s not fair to him either. You can’t straddle both worlds forever, Ariana. One will destroy the other—and you with it. And Maker help you, you won’t survive the fallout when it happens.”
“It’s not about what life I want to lead!” Ariana stood up, her voice rising with her. Her hazel-green eyes burned with conviction as she turned to face Isabel. “It’s about what I have to do. I can’t abandon the people I’m trying to protect. You know that.”
Isabel didn’t back down. “And what about Cullen?” she asked pointedly. “You can’t have it both ways, Ariana. If you can’t tell him the truth—if you’re going to keep lying to him—then maybe you should let him go.”
The words hit Ariana like a blow, and for a moment, she couldn’t speak. She stood there, staring at Isabel, her chest rising and falling as she struggled to find her voice.
“If you’re asking me to leave him,” Ariana said finally, her voice trembling, “then I can’t. I need him, Isabel. I need him.”
The admission hung heavy in the air, as if saying the words aloud had made them more real—and more painful.
Isabel let out a long, slow breath, her hands bracing against the back of a chair as though steadying herself. Her jaw tightened, but her eyes softened briefly, just for a moment, before the steel returned. “Find your own breakfast, child—I’ve got nothing left to say. And you’d do well to get out of this house for the day.”
She paused at the door, her hand resting lightly on the frame, her back still to Ariana. “Maybe some distance will help you see what your stubborn heart refuses to.” Her voice softened slightly, her shoulders dropping. “You think you’re protecting him, but you’re not. You’re just delaying the pain, and when it comes, it’ll hit like a hammer.”
Isabel turned her head slightly, her profile catching the light from the fire. “You’ll lose him, child—and when you do, it’ll shatter you. So figure out if this fight is worth that cost, because I don’t think your heart will survive losing him. And Maker knows I won’t stand by and watch that happen.”
With that, she pushed off the doorframe and walked away, her steps slow but deliberate, leaving Ariana alone with the flickering firelight and the unbearable weight of her words.
When the sound of Isabel’s footsteps faded, Ariana sank back into the chair, her head falling into her hands. Her body felt heavy, her breaths shallow and uneven, as though the weight of her lies had finally settled in, suffocating her.
What am I doing? she thought again, her fingers tightening against the armrests. The truth sat like a stone in her chest, immovable and unrelenting.
~~~
When Cullen stepped back into the Gallows, the oppressive weight of Kirkwall’s largest fortress settled over him once again. The halls were dark, the morning light struggling to reach beyond the towering stone walls. Templars moved with brisk purpose, their footfalls echoing in the quiet.
Cullen didn’t make it far before he saw her—Meredith, standing in the center of the main hall, flanked by a squad of Templars in full armor. Her gaze locked onto him the moment he entered, her expression sharp and unreadable.
“Knight-Captain,” Meredith said, her voice ringing through the hall with practiced authority. “You left the Gallows not long after receiving the report about the Starkhaven transport.”
Cullen stopped before her, keeping his posture straight, his expression carefully neutral. “I had to leave for other reasons, unrelated to the report,” he replied evenly.
Meredith’s cold blue eyes narrowed, a flicker of skepticism crossing her face as her chin tilted slightly upward. The light from the hall glinted off the edges of her armor, accentuating the hard lines of her presence. She stepped forward, the measured weight of her movement deliberate and predatory, her gaze never leaving Cullen’s face. Her lips thinned into a sharp line, her voice soft but cutting when she finally spoke, “Unrelated, you say? Interesting timing for such an absence, Knight-Captain.” Her tone was clipped, cutting through the air like a blade. “You are aware that your duties require your full attention, are you not?”
Cullen clenched his jaw but nodded. “Of course, Knight-Commander.”
“Then perhaps you can enlighten me,” Meredith continued, stepping closer, her piercing gaze boring into his. “Do you have any additional information regarding this ambush? The attackers? The defected Templars?”
Cullen shook his head, his voice even. “Not yet, Knight-Commander. I have only the details provided in the initial report.”
Meredith studied him for a long moment, the silence thick and oppressive. Finally, she spoke. “Unacceptable. We must determine the identity of those responsible and uncover who compromised our ranks.” She straightened, her voice sharp as a blade. “You will question the remaining Templars assigned to that detail. I expect answers, Knight-Captain. Quickly.”
“Understood,” Cullen said, his fists clenching subtly at his sides.
“Maybe you should bring Lady Trevelyan in for questioning as well.” Meredith said as eyes appeared to search for a reaction from him, anything she could use.
Cullen’s jaw tightened immediately, the sharp line of his posture betraying his anger. His fists curled at his sides, barely restrained by the need to keep himself in check. He swallowed hard, forcing his tone to remain even. “Lady Trevelyan? Why would she have anything to do with this?” Cullen said
“It appears that she was traveling while this occured. Convenient timing, wouldn’t you say?” Meredith added
Cullen’s breath caught for a fraction of a second, his mind racing. Meredith was watching Ariana, waiting for a slip—an excuse to drag her into this mess. His heart clenched at the thought, the familiar ache of protectiveness flaring into sharp-edged anger. How far would Meredith go to prove a point? Meredith had to be having Ariana followed—watched, scrutinized—waiting for the smallest misstep to justify her suspicions. It explained how Meredith always seemed ready with her accusations, her veiled threats.
“She has openly questioned the Order, maybe she has decided to do more…” Meredith’s tone was icy and calculating and certainly accusatory.
Cullen knew he needed to be smart about this, he couldn’t risk a confrontation. Meredith would simply find someone else to drag Ariana in, someone who would willingly do her bidding “Would you like us to gather a list of all Hightown nobility who has been traveling this past week who may be involved? We probably should consider interrogating the Champion of Kirkwall as well…” His tone bordered on sarcasm but remained just polite enough not to sound openly defiant.
Meredith’s expression shifted, her mouth tightening as a flicker of anger crossed her features. For a brief moment, Cullen thought she might reprimand him, but instead, her gaze darted sharply to the gathered Templars as if silently reminding them of their place.
“That won’t be necessary, Knight-Captain,” Meredith said curtly, her voice colder than before. “You may be correct—it is likely Lady Trevelyan is nothing more than some dilettante spending her father’s money and speaking of matters she doesn’t understand.” she said, visibly annoyed at his defiance.
“But Cullen,” Meredith added, her tone dropping to something almost accusatory. “See that your focus remains where it should. The Order cannot afford distractions.”
Distractions?
“Of course, Knight-Commander,” Cullen replied tightly, though every thought in him wanted to say so much more.
Cullen, of course, knew exactly who she meant by that. The accusation lingered like a bitter taste on his tongue, a pointed barb aimed as much at him as it was at Ariana. Meredith’s relentless targeting of her felt less like suspicion and more like an attack—a deliberate reminder that she saw Cullen’s loyalties as tenuous.
His jaw clenched at the thought, frustration knotting in his chest. Maker, how many times must she bring Ariana into this? He forced himself to remain still, his face betraying nothing, though his thoughts churned like a storm. He would not give Meredith the satisfaction of seeing him waver.
Meredith lingered for a moment longer, as if daring him to defy her, before turning sharply on her heel. The squad of Templars fell into step behind her, the echo of their armored boots trailing into the distance.
Cullen exhaled slowly, his shoulders tense as the weight of her words settled on him. He turned toward the hall leading to his office, his thoughts a tangle of frustration, worry, and doubt.
Maker help him—he wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep this balance from breaking entirely.
~~~
Ariana changed into a simple training outfit and quickly made her way to Lowtown. The early summer morning was already warm, the air carrying the faint scent of the sea. It was too early to visit Varric, she reasoned, so she headed to the warehouse instead. A few rounds with Linnea or Lamberto should help her clear her mind. Or maybe, she could take over training some of the recruits.
Quietly, she stepped into the warehouse. The sounds of recruits sparring and Lamberto loudly critiquing everything they were doing wrong echoed through the space. “Wolf!” Lamberto turned to her with a wide grin as she entered. “You up for showing these recruits how it’s done?”
“Oh, Maker… and what exactly am I showing them?” Ariana chuckled, rolling out her shoulders as she walked toward him.
The murmurs from the gathered recruits were unmistakable. They seemed new—faces she wasn’t sure she had met before. Everything from awe that she was the White Wolf to quiet disbelief that someone like her could carry the title filled the air. She smirked to herself. There was something about being underestimated that always drove her to prove herself.
“You know… parry, dodge, block… the basics,” Lamberto joked.
“Aren’t the basics your job?” Ariana teased, swinging the training swords in lazy arcs as she walked to the center of the room. “Or do you want me to prove how easy it is to break them?”
Lamberto laughed, tossing his own sword from hand to hand. “Bold words, Wolf. Let’s see if you’ve still got it.”
“Still got it?” Ariana raised an eyebrow. “Watch and learn, recruits. This is what happens when you don’t dodge fast enough.”
Ariana walked over to grab a couple of training swords, taking two for herself and tossing one to Lamberto. “I’m certainly not challenging them,” she said with a smirk. “I think observing might be more useful.”
“Observing? Is that how you were trained—” Lamberto’s words trailed off, his expression faltering as he realized his mistake.
Memories of Krieger—his arms correcting her stance, his voice smooth but unsettling—flooded her mind. Keep this up, and you’ll be unstoppable his voice cut through her thoughts. Ariana kept her smile steady, refusing to let her expression betray her. She knew Lamberto hadn’t meant anything by it.
“Sometimes,” she replied lightly, brushing off the moment. “But you’re the one doing the hands-on work here.” Her smirk returned as she added, “I think from me they only need to see me kick their instructor’s ass. It’ll make them feel better.”
The gathered recruits chuckled at her comment, their tension easing slightly.
Ariana’s boots barely made a sound as she moved into position, her every step deliberate. She twirled one of the training swords with an easy grace, the blade a blur of polished wood under the dim light. She could feel the eyes of the recruits on her, their whispers fading into silence as they watched the White Wolf take her stance.
“Well, now you’ve done it,” Lamberto said as he lunged toward her without further warning.
Ariana easily sidestepped his attack, raising one of her training swords to parry his follow-up strike. The sparring session began in earnest, each move deliberate and calculated. She gave him room at first, allowing Lamberto to demonstrate his own skill, making it seem like the fight was more even than it truly was. She dodged and blocked with fluid grace, countering his strikes with precision that drew murmurs of approval from the recruits.
Eventually, Ariana’s figured the recruits had seen enough. She shifted gears, her movements faster and sharper, each parry and counter more decisive. In a flurry of strikes, she disarmed Lamberto, twisted his arm behind his back, and forced him to his knees.
“I yield,” Lamberto grunted, signaling his surrender.
Ariana stepped back, lowering her training sword as she offered him a hand to help him up. “I think that covered everything,” she said with a mock bow. “Unless anyone thinks I missed something. Then we could do it again…”
The recruits burst into cheers, their earlier skepticism replaced with certainty. The murmurs shifted; now, they were sure she was who they’d heard about.
“No. No. That… won’t be necessary, Wolf,” Lamberto said as he stretched his arms. “Don’t you have work to do somewhere else?” he added, waving her off good-naturedly.
“I’m always available for another demonstration,” Ariana quipped, making her way toward the office.
“Wolf,” Linnea greeted her, looking up from a stack of papers as Ariana stepped in. “You embarrassing Lamberto out there?”
“I tried not to,” The teasing warmth in Ariana’s voice faded as she stepped into the office, her expression sharpening. “We need to talk,” she said, her tone low but firm. The camaraderie from the sparring match lingered in the air, but it dissolved as Linnea’s gaze turned serious.
Linnea tilted her head, her expression growing more serious. “What’s going on?”
Ariana leaned against the desk, crossing her arms. “The transport we intercepted? Two Templars helped us and have now joined the Rangers,” she said, watching Linnea’s reaction carefully. “They’ll head to the manor after they see the mages we rescued safely to Markham.”
“What? They… helped you?” Linnea’s tone was filled with surprise. “And they left the Templar Order?”
“That’s not everything,” Ariana continued. “It seems there’s a mage-templar group within the Gallows plotting against Meredith. They want to turn the Gallows back into a regular Circle instead of the prison it is now. The group is still young, but from what the Templars told me, they don’t seek chaos. They just want Meredith gone and the abuses to stop.”
Linnea sank back into her chair, her expression thoughtful. “Do you think it could be a trap?”
Ariana glanced around the room, her gaze lingering on the maps, boards, and reports that covered every surface. She leaned back against the desk again, weighing her words. “Trap? No. Possibly risky? Yes,” she admitted. “If they don’t handle things right, it could make things worse and destabilize everything sooner. But if they’re genuine and we can coordinate with them… maybe it could help turn the tide.”
Linnea leaned forward, her fingers steepled as she rested her elbows on the desk. “Helping them would mean putting ourselves directly in their crosshairs if things go wrong. Meredith’s not the sort to let an uprising pass quietly.” She shook her head, frowning. “Do we even know how many are involved?”
“Not yet,” Ariana admitted. “The Templars who joined us are our only connection so far. If we’re careful, we can find out more without drawing too much attention.”
Linnea sighed. “Careful isn’t something the Gallows is known for. If Meredith gets wind of this, even a rumor, it’ll turn into a bloodbath. You know that.”
“I do,” Ariana said firmly. “Which is why we need to tread carefully. But think about it, Linnea. If this group succeeds… if we can help them… it’s not just Meredith who falls. It’s the foundation of her tyranny.”
Linnea’s gaze hardened, her lips pressing into a thin line. After a moment, she nodded. “Alright. But we need more information before we do anything. If we move too soon, we’ll be walking into disaster.”
Ariana straightened. “Agreed. I’ve asked Hawke to do some digging. The Templars that defected gave me a name, Ser Thrask, and apparently Hawke has worked with him before. She’ll let us know what she finds.”
“Understood,” Linnea said, though her expression remained tense. After a moment, she added, “And Wolf? Be careful. If Meredith catches even a whisper of this, we might not have the chance to regroup.”
Ariana gave a small, determined smile. “I’ll be careful. We all will. But right now that mage-templar group is at the highest risk. And let’s make sure no one hears about this from us.”
Ariana ran a hand over the edge of the desk, her thoughts momentarily distant. “We’ve seen what happens when fear controls Kirkwall,” she said softly. “This time, we’ll make sure hope has a chance to fight back.”
~~~
After reviewing all current operations with Linnea and stopping to talk with some of the new recruits, Ariana made her way to the Hanged Man. The sun was beginning its descent, casting long shadows across Lowtown as she wound her way through the familiar streets. She pushed open the heavy door of the tavern, the warm, lively hum of voices and clinking mugs washing over her as she stepped inside.
Varric was in his usual corner, leaning back in his chair with a drink in hand, Bianca resting on the table beside him. He looked up as she approached, his ever-present smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Pup! You’re out early… or late. Depends on how you’re counting.”
Ariana slid into the seat across from him, offering a faint smile. “Isabel kicked me out of the house.”
Varric raised an eyebrow. “Kicked you out? Must have been some morning.”
“She’s… upset,” Ariana admitted, running a hand through her hair. “About Cullen. About the lies. She said I need to decide which life I want to lead.”
Varric’s expression softened slightly, though his tone remained light. “Sounds like Isabel’s getting tired of playing middle ground. Can’t say I blame her.”
Ariana leaned back in her chair, her arms crossing. “She’s probably right, but I can’t tell him, Varric. It would destroy everything. He’d have to choose between me and his duty. It’s not fair to put him in that position.”
Varric nodded slowly, swirling his drink. “You’re not wrong, Pup. The last thing Curly needs is more weight on his shoulders. Maker knows he’s carrying enough as it is.” He took a sip, his gaze steady on her. “But Isabel’s not wrong either. This? The lies, the secrets? It’s all going to boil over eventually. And when it does, everyone’s going to get burned.”
Ariana’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t argue. The truth of his words settled heavily on her shoulders.
Varric’s smirk returned, though it lacked its usual bite. “Well, if anyone can walk that tightrope, it’s you. Just don’t look down.”
They talked and drank for hours, the conversation ranging from potential strategies to shared stories of past misadventures. By the time Ariana stood to leave, the tavern was buzzing with evening activity, the air thick with laughter and the smell of ale.
As she stepped out of the Hanged Man, she almost collided with Michael, who was making his way toward the estate.
“Ariana,” he greeted, his tone subdued. His arm was already out for her to take, a familiar gesture that she accepted without hesitation.
“You look tired,” she said, studying his face. There was something more than exhaustion in his expression—a darkness, a weight.
“Not here,” Michael said quietly, glancing around the dimly lit street.
Ariana nodded, falling silent as they walked the rest of the way to the estate. Once inside, they joined Isabel and Emma for a quiet dinner, though Michael’s unease was palpable. Afterward, the two of them retreated to the courtyard, the cool breeze carrying the scent of the sea.
As they entered the courtyard, Ariana felt a flicker of relief. Despite the day’s turmoil, Michael’s steady presence was grounding, like a reminder that not everything in her life was on the verge of unraveling.
Michael sat stiffly, his hands clasped tightly in front of him, the tension in his shoulders visible even in the dim light. His jaw worked as though he was grinding his thoughts into silence, but his eyes betrayed the storm within. “The Gallows is… it’s a dark place, Ariana.”
Ariana watched him carefully, her brow furrowing. “What happened?”
“It’s not one thing,” Michael admitted. “It’s everything. The way the mages look at me… like I’m the enemy. Even when I try to be kind, they don’t trust me. It’s like they’re waiting for me to trap them. And the punishments… they’re so far beyond what’s reasonable. Minor infractions get…” He shook his head, his hands tightening into fists. “They’re terrified, Ariana. And I can’t blame them.”
Ariana’s heart ached at his words. She reached out, placing a hand on his arm. “You’re in a difficult position, Michael. But you can help, even if it’s in small ways. Keep being kind. Show them that not all Templars are like the rest. If you see minor infractions, maybe you can… overlook them. Protect them from worse punishments.”
Michael looked at her, his jaw tight. “You make it sound so easy.”
“It’s not,” Ariana said softly. “But it’s something. And if you can earn their trust, even a little, it could make a difference.”
Michael nodded slowly, though his frustration was still evident. “I’ll try. But it’s hard, Ariana. Every day, it feels like I’m walking a fine line. And I don’t know how long I can keep it up.”
Ariana studied him, her expression thoughtful. She could see the cracks forming in his convictions, the doubt that lingered in his eyes. “Sometimes,” she said quietly, “it’s the ones walking the fine line who have the clearest view of both sides.”
As the wind carried the scent of salt and distant waves, Ariana leaned back in her chair, watching Michael. He had been the dutiful Templar, the one who followed the rules without question. But now, he was changing, whether he realized it or not. And though the path ahead was uncertain, for the first time, she allowed herself to believe he might walk it with her.
But not yet. She needed to watch, to wait. For now, she would let him find his own way.
~~~
It had been a couple of weeks since Ariana intercepted the mage transport. The soft light of dawn filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. Ariana sat at the desk by the window, one foot tucked up on the chair, her arms loosely wrapped around her knee as she gazed out at the quiet morning. Cullen’s shirt hung loosely on her frame, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows, the fabric carrying the faint, comforting scent of him.
Her thoughts swirled as she absently traced patterns on the edge of the desk, the weight of recent weeks pressing heavily on her. The wooden desk littered with correspondence and reports. Her head tilted slightly as she read through a letter, the corners of her lips pulled tight in concentration.
A knock at the door broke her concentration. “Come in,” she called, straightening slightly in her chair, setting down the letter.
The door opened to reveal Cullen, his armor catching the soft light as he stepped inside. His serious expression softened as his eyes fell on her, and for a brief moment, a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
“You’re up early,” he said, his gaze flicking briefly to the shirt she wore.
“So are you,” she replied with a small smile, lowering her foot and turning to face him fully. “Though I suppose that’s not unusual.”
Cullen crossed the room, setting a folded report on the desk. “I need your opinion on something,” he said, his tone quieter than usual.
Ariana arched an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. “What’s troubling you?”
He hesitated, his gaze flicking to the window before meeting hers again. “It’s about the Gallows,” he admitted, his voice low. “Specifically, how punishments are being handled for minor infractions.”
Ariana’s expression sobered as she gestured for him to sit. “Go on,” she said, leaning forward slightly, her arms resting on the desk.
Cullen settled into the chair across from her, his fingers brushing over the edges of the report. “I’ve received several reports detailing extended solitary confinement, denial of meals, even physical punishments for minor offenses. It’s… excessive. But I need to know if I’m overreacting.”
Ariana unfolded the report, her hazel-green eyes scanning the lines of text. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she read, her fingers tightening slightly around the paper. “You’re not overreacting,” she said firmly. “This isn’t discipline—it’s cruelty.”
Cullen exhaled, his shoulders slumping slightly. “That’s what I thought. But how do I address it without challenging Meredith directly? She’ll see any attempt at change as defiance.”
Ariana set the report down, her gaze steady. “You can’t change Meredith overnight, Cullen. But you can start by protecting those under your command. Redirect punishments, reassign tasks—anything to mitigate the damage.”
Cullen nodded slowly, his brow furrowed in thought. “Reassignments could work. If I frame it as improving efficiency, she might not question it immediately.”
“I know Michael would probably love the chance to be in a position to help the mages.” Ariana said “He hates being feared.”
“You’ve spoken to Michael?” Cullen asked, his brow furrowing slightly. “I didn’t realize he felt that way.”
“I have, he’s… disillusioned,” Ariana replied, her tone softening. “He’s trying, Cullen. But he’s struggling. He believes in the ideals of the Order, but what he sees every day in the Gallows… it’s wearing him down. He hates the fear he inspires, and he hates feeling like he’s part of the problem.”
Cullen’s expression grew heavier as he considered her words. “Michael’s frustration doesn’t surprise me,” he said after a moment, his voice quieter. “He’s always been more idealistic. But if even he’s questioning things, that says more about the state of the Gallows than anything else.”
His gaze dropped to the desk, and his hands clasped tightly in front of him. “But even then, I hate how powerless it feels. I’m supposed to lead, to protect. And yet, every day, it feels like I’m just watching it all get worse.”
“You’re not alone in this, Cullen,” Ariana said, her voice steady but filled with warmth. “You’re doing more than most, even if it doesn’t always feel like it.”
He offered her a faint smile, the tension in his posture easing slightly. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “It helps to talk about it. To have someone I trust.”
“You’ll always have me,” Ariana replied, her smile soft but resolute.
Cullen stood, tucking the report back into his pouch. “I’ll think on what you’ve said. And I’ll speak with Michael.”
Ariana rose as well, walking with him to the door. As he reached for the handle, he paused, glancing back at her. “You look good in my shirt,” he said, his voice carrying a touch of warmth and teasing.
Ariana chuckled, her eyes sparkling. “I told you I was keeping it.”
Cullen shook his head, a small, genuine smile breaking through his earlier seriousness. “I’ll see you later.”
As the door closed behind him, Ariana returned to her desk, her fingers brushing over the stack of papers. For the first time that morning, the weight on her chest felt a little lighter.
One day at a time, she reminded herself, her gaze drifting to the skyline beyond the window. One day at a time.
~~~
Cullen’s boots echoed against the stone floor of the Gallows as he approached Knight-Commander Meredith’s office. The oppressive air of the fortress seemed heavier than usual, the weight of the intercepted transport incident lingering like a specter. Cullen had spent weeks trying to piece together the fragments of information surrounding the attack, but answers were few and far between.
Meredith was already waiting for him, her posture rigid and commanding as always. Her sharp eyes locked onto him the moment he entered the room, and the squad of Templars stationed outside made it clear this was not a casual meeting.
“Knight-Captain,” Meredith began, her voice as cold and precise as a blade. “It has been several weeks since the intercepted transport. I trust you’ve made progress in uncovering who was behind it.”
Cullen stood at attention, his tone measured. “I questioned all Templars involved in the transport, Knight-Commander. Unfortunately, none had any further information to provide. They were as surprised as anyone by the attack and the defection of their comrades.”
Meredith’s brow furrowed, her lips pressing into a thin line. “And the defectors? What did you learn of their motivations?”
“From what I could gather, it appears the two defectors chose that moment to leave rather than planning the attack themselves,” Cullen explained. “The ambush seems to have been perpetrated by an unknown group. The Templars involved indicated that it was not an orchestrated betrayal from within the Order but an external intervention. The defectors took advantage of the chaos to escape.”
Meredith’s eyes narrowed, and she began to pace slowly behind her desk. “So, you are telling me we now have rogue Templars among the populace and an unidentified group with the audacity to attack our transport. Who do you suspect orchestrated this?”
Cullen hesitated, carefully choosing his words. “It may be related to one of the mages who were freed during the attack. However, neither of the mages in question has known family or close friends in the area that we could question. Their backgrounds provide no immediate leads.”
Meredith stopped pacing, her gaze piercing. “And you have no other theories? No insight into who these attackers might be?”
Cullen’s jaw tightened. “Not at this time, Knight-Commander. My men and I continue to investigate, but the attackers were skilled and left no identifying traces behind. They knew what they were doing.”
Meredith’s expression hardened further, if such a thing were possible. “This is unacceptable, Knight-Captain. An attack on the Order cannot go unanswered. The fact that you have yet to produce results reflects poorly on us all. I suggest you redouble your efforts.”
“Understood,” Cullen replied, his voice steady despite the growing tension in the room.
Meredith’s tone turned icy as she added, “And I trust there will be no more unsanctioned absences on your part while this matter remains unresolved. Your duties are clear.”
Cullen stiffened, the veiled accusation cutting deeper than he expected. “Of course, Knight-Commander. My focus remains on the Order.”
Meredith studied him for a moment longer before nodding curtly. “See that it does. Dismissed.”
Cullen turned and left the office, his mind churning as he replayed the conversation. The unknown group, the defectors, the mages freed in the attack—none of it aligned neatly. The more he thought about it, the more he realized how tenuous the situation was becoming. As he stepped back into the open air of the Gallows courtyard, the oppressive weight of Meredith’s scrutiny followed him, a constant reminder of how fine a line he was walking.
~~~
Meredith waited until the echo of Cullen’s boots faded into silence before moving. Her posture remained rigid, her gloved fingers clasped tightly behind her back. The shadows of the Gallows flickered against the stone walls as the torches outside guttered in the wind. She stared at the heavy door, her sharp blue eyes narrowing in thought.
He’s slipping.
The thought festered like a wound. Cullen, once her most promising Knight-Captain, was no longer the man she had painstakingly molded. His resolve had softened, his loyalty fractured, all because of her. Ariana Trevelyan.
Meredith exhaled sharply through her nose, the sound almost imperceptible in the stillness of the chamber. A noblewoman with no place meddling in the affairs of Kirkwall’s Order. Yet, somehow, Ariana had wormed her way into Cullen’s life, into his mind. Meredith saw the hesitation in his gaze, the cracks in his once-iron will. He was mine to shape, and now…
Her lips pressed into a thin line as she turned away from the door, pacing behind her desk. She could not afford distractions—not now, with tensions between mages and Templars growing more volatile by the day. Cullen was supposed to be her right hand, her mirror, the one who would carry her vision forward. Instead, he was drifting, and Ariana was the root cause.
Meredith stopped abruptly, her gaze sharpening as an idea crystallized. If Ariana’s presence was a distraction, it must be removed.
“Knight-Lieutenant Aldric,” she called sharply.
The door opened almost immediately, and a young Templar stepped inside, his posture stiff with discipline. His armor clinked faintly as he saluted. “Yes, Knight-Commander?”
Meredith studied him for a moment, her piercing gaze unrelenting. Young. Ambitious. Eager to prove himself. He would do.
“I have a task for you,” she said, her voice crisp and cold. “One that requires discretion and absolute loyalty.”
The Knight-Lieutenant’s brow furrowed slightly, but he nodded. “Of course, Knight-Commander. What are your orders?”
“You are to conduct a thorough investigation into Ariana Trevelyan,” Meredith said, her tone leaving no room for questioning. “I want to know every detail about her travel to Starkhaven around the time of the intercepted transport. Who she met with, why she went, and if there is any connection between her and the group responsible for the attack.”
The Templar hesitated, a flicker of unease crossing his face. “Ariana Trevelyan? The noblewoman?”
Meredith’s lips thinned. “Yes. Do you have an issue with the order, Knight-Lieutenant?”
“No, Knight-Commander,” he said quickly, though the slight shift in his stance betrayed his discomfort. “I simply meant… should I report my findings to Knight-Captain Cullen once the investigation is complete?”
Meredith’s eyes hardened, her tone dropping to a cold, deliberate edge. “No. Everything concerning Ariana Trevelyan is to be reported directly to me. Knight-Captain Cullen is not to be informed. Do you understand?”
The Knight-Lieutenant swallowed hard but nodded. “Understood, Knight-Commander. I will begin immediately.”
Meredith inclined her head slightly. “Good. Remember, Knight-Lieutenant, this task requires absolute discretion. Should I find that word of this investigation has spread, the consequences will be severe.”
“Yes, Knight-Commander,” the Templar replied, his voice steady despite the tension in his posture. He saluted once more before exiting the office.
As the door closed behind him, Meredith turned to the window, her hands once again clasping tightly behind her back. She gazed out over the Gallows courtyard, her expression cold and calculating.
Ariana Trevelyan was a complication—one that Meredith intended to neutralize. If there was even the faintest connection between her and the intercepted transport, Meredith would expose it. And if not, she would find another means to discredit her. Ariana’s presence in Cullen’s life was a threat to the Order’s stability, and Meredith would not allow anyone to disrupt the balance she had fought so hard to maintain.
Meredith’s gaze darkened, her mind sharpening with resolve. No one—no noble, no mage—will undermine the Order. And certainly not her.