Lost Figment

Tag: Redcliffe

  • Chapter 9 – Settling In

    17 Kingsway – 30 Haring 9:29

    The journey back through Redcliffe to Lake Calenhad’s docks was quiet, but not peaceful. The calm of the road couldn’t touch the restlessness building in Cullen’s chest. He stole glances at Ariana, noting the subtle shift in her posture as the northern shore came into view. The tension returned to her shoulders, her gaze sharpening as she scanned the docks ahead. She was looking for something—or someone—and he had no doubt it was her brother. He hated the thought of her constantly having to watch her back, never able to relax.

    Ariana’s voice broke the silence. “Cullen,” she said, her eyes never leaving the shore, “I need to leave. We both know I cannot linger here…”

    Her words hung in the air like a blow he hadn’t braced for, though he’d known they were coming. When she finally turned to face him, he didn’t have the strength to mask his reaction. She caught the flicker of pain in his expression, and a small, bittersweet smile curved her lips. That smile—it did something to him, something he couldn’t quite name. She looked almost… content, as though his wanting her to stay mattered to her in a way that frightened him.

    Cullen’s mind raced for a solution, any solution, though he knew none existed. What could he offer her? Safety? Stability? Those were things he could barely promise himself, let alone someone as fiercely independent as Ariana. “Where will you go?” he asked, his voice tighter than he intended.

    “Berthold should be back in West Hill in about three or four weeks,” she replied, a faint smile softening her expression. “Crestwood, maybe. That could still be an option.”

    Relief and heartache mingled within him. At least she wasn’t planning on disappearing completely—yet the thought of her wandering from one uncertain refuge to the next gnawed at him. How had she become so important to him in so short a time? In truth they’d only known each other for a little over a week. A few days before her brother found her, and this past week with his family. It didn’t make sense, and yet it felt as though she’d always been there, as though something had shifted irreversibly in his world the moment he’d first seen her.

    When they reached the docks, they avoided the busier areas, slipping into the shelter of the trees. The path they followed was familiar, leading back to the small clearing where he’d first helped her escape.

    “Be careful, please,” he said, his voice low, his hand resting on her shoulder. The words felt inadequate, but they were all he had. He didn’t trust the world she was walking back into. He didn’t trust that he’d be there the next time she needed help. And he didn’t trust himself not to follow if she called for him.

    Ariana nodded, her hand rising to cover his, the warmth of her touch grounding him even as he felt her slipping further away. He wanted to say something more, something meaningful that would convince her to stay—if not here, then close enough for him to find her. But when he opened his mouth, the words came out tangled and broken. “If… if you ever decide to leave for somewhere, to finally settle down… just…”

    He couldn’t bring himself to finish the thought. He wanted to ask her to write to him, to find a way to stay connected, to promise she’d be safe. But none of it felt like enough. He couldn’t protect her, not truly, not while she was on the run. And yet the idea of her finding a place where she could live freely—without looking over her shoulder—was the only thing he could cling to.

    Her reply came steady, a promise wrapped in the certainty of her voice. “I will not leave without telling you. And if I must go somewhere far, you will always know where to find me.”

    The weight pressing on his chest eased, though the ache remained. He exhaled slowly, the relief washing over him despite himself.

    She stepped closer then, her hand brushing against his cheek with a softness that threatened to undo him. Her lips pressed against his cheek in a kiss so light, so brief, yet it lingered all the same. “Thank you,” she whispered.

    It was the same as that night he helped her escape, and yet it felt impossibly different—more deliberate, more personal. It was a thank-you, yes, but it was something else, too.

    Before he could say anything more, she turned, her movements resolute yet unhurried, as though she was leaving behind something she didn’t want to let go of. Cullen watched her go, his heart caught in a tangle of longing and helplessness. The trees swallowed her form, and he stood there, rooted to the spot, unable to move until the last rustle of her footsteps faded into the forest.

    Only then did he let himself sink against the nearest tree, running a hand through his hair. Maker help him—she was going to break him.

    ~~~

    Ariana pushed open the door to her rented room, the faint creak of the hinges breaking the quiet of the small inn. The room was modest, with a single bed pushed against the wall and a small table near the window. She set her pack down by the foot of the bed, exhaling slowly. It was a place to rest, to lay low, but as she stood there in the silence, it felt hollow. The kind of hollow that wasn’t solved by four walls and a roof.

    The next few days passed in a blur. She explored the outskirts of Crestwood, tracing the uneven terrain to familiar spots. The ruins of Caer Bronach had become a particular comfort, its weathered stone walls speaking of stories she could only imagine. She often found herself wandering the old fortress, running her fingers along the cold stone, wondering what it would have been like to defend such a place. It grounded her, gave her something to focus on.

    But it never lasted.

    Each time she paused to catch her breath, her thoughts drifted back to Cullen. She imagined him walking beside her, his measured steps and quiet humor filling the silence. She could almost hear his voice, the low timbre of it steady and calming. The thought struck a chord so deep it startled her.

    “Maker,” she muttered aloud, the sound of her own voice startling against the stillness. “Why am I thinking about him?”

    The question lingered, unanswered, as she paced the fortress’s empty halls. It didn’t make sense. Cullen had become important to her in ways she couldn’t quite explain, and the thought unsettled her. It was unreasonable. Irrational. They had barely spent any time together. She could count the days.

    Thirteen days, she realized. Why am I counting them?

    Her chest tightened with the realization. She hadn’t even meant to keep track, but somehow, the number had carved itself into her thoughts. A part of her tried to dismiss it, to write it off as infatuation, or perhaps the lingering comfort of finding someone kind in the chaos of her life. But another part of her, the part she tried to ignore, whispered that it was something more.

    She sat on a low stone wall, her head in her hands, the memories of their last day together flooding back unbidden. The flicker of pain in his eyes when she’d told him she needed to leave. His hand on her shoulder, as if it could hold her in place. The weight of his words, filled with quiet pleading and something she hadn’t dared to name.

    Does he feel the same way? The thought struck her with the force of a gale, and she shook her head as if to dislodge it. No. That’s… ridiculous.

    And yet, it wouldn’t leave her. She thought of Frederick, her childhood friend, and how he had once confessed his feelings for her. That had made sense. They had grown up together, spent years sharing every joy and hardship. But this? She’d known Cullen for a little over a month. They’d only been in each other’s company for thirteen days. It was absurd to think that such a short time could carry so much weight.

    And yet, she thought, staring out at the horizon, here I am, wishing he were here.

    Her thoughts drifted again to her plans. Denerim had been her fallback, the place she’d intended to go if things fell apart. Varric had approved it, and she’d reasoned it was a safe enough distance to keep her ahead of Michael. But the more she thought about it, the more the plan unraveled. Denerim was too far to reliably send and receive letters from West Hill. She wouldn’t be able to keep in touch with her father or Varric without great difficulty. The idea of being so disconnected gnawed at her.

    But from Crestwood, I can reach both West Hill and Lake Calenhad easily…

    The thought settled over her like a weight, both comforting and troubling. It made sense, logistically. Staying here was practical. But as much as she told herself it was about keeping her connections intact, she couldn’t ignore the other reason tugging at her.

    It was only a couple of days’ journey to the Circle Tower. Back to Cullen.

    Ariana closed her eyes, leaning against the cool stone wall. She wasn’t ready to admit what that meant, not yet. For now, she would stay in Crestwood, convincing herself it was the logical choice. But deep down, she knew better. This wasn’t about practicality. It was about him.

    I need to go back, she thought, the realization settling over her like a quiet truth. I need to see him. To figure this out.

    With a steadying breath, she stood and made her way back toward the inn. The room she’d rented would serve as a home for now. But her heart wasn’t in Crestwood. Not really. And sooner or later, she would follow it back to the lake.

    ~~~

    Cullen sat at the same corner table where he had first met her. The Spoiled Princess was quiet this evening, the low murmur of conversation and the clink of mugs providing a familiar backdrop. This table had become something of a refuge for him, a place where he could think. Or, more often, hope. Somehow, sitting here made him feel closer to her, as though staying in this spot might bring her back.

    Yet part of him told himself he shouldn’t hope. It would be better for her to stay away, to find a place where she could truly be safe, where she wouldn’t have to look over her shoulder every moment of every day. A place where she could rebuild her life, far from danger and chaos. That was what she deserved.

    But the thought of her finding that safety—of her leaving—would break him. He couldn’t deny it. The realization unsettled him. He barely knew her. They had spent only a handful of days together, and yet she had become more important to him than almost anyone else he had ever known, aside from his own family.

    The night before they left Honnleath, his mother had pulled him aside after everyone had gone to bed. She had a way of seeing through him, of knowing the thoughts he wasn’t ready to admit even to himself.

    “Hang on to what you’ve found with her,” she had said, her voice low but firm.

    Cullen had shaken his head, smiling faintly. “She’s just a friend, Mother. She’s passing through. That’s all.”

    But his mother had given him that knowing smile, the one that had always unnerved him growing up. The one that said he was fooling himself.

    “She needs someone to care for her as much as you do, my boy,” she had said. “She has lost everything. And yet, I can see it in the way you look at each other. You both have found your home.”

    At the time, Cullen had thought it absurd. A passing connection couldn’t possibly mean so much. But her words had stayed with him, echoing in his mind at the most unexpected moments.

    Now, as he sat at the table, his thoughts drifted back to Ariana. He imagined her somewhere out there, traveling the winding roads, her steps careful and her eyes always scanning for danger. The idea that she might be alone, without anyone to lean on, filled him with a quiet ache he couldn’t shake.

    The creak of the inn’s door broke him from his thoughts. He glanced up, expecting another traveler or merchant. Instead, a cloaked figure stepped inside, pausing to glance around the room. Cullen’s heart skipped as recognition struck him. It was her.

    Gilbert, the tavernkeeper, noticed her too and motioned toward Cullen with a subtle nod. Her gaze followed, and when her eyes met his, a smile spread across her face. Relief washed over him, sharp and overwhelming. He hadn’t realized just how much he’d needed to see her until this moment.

    As she began walking toward him, her movements sure and unhurried, Cullen’s chest tightened. His pulse quickened, each beat echoing in his ears. She was here. She had come back. And as her smile grew, his mother’s words surfaced again, unbidden but undeniable.

    You both have found your home.

    Ariana reached the table and lowered her hood, her hair catching the faint glow of the tavern’s lamps.

    “You’re still here,” she said with a teasing smile as she pulled out the chair across from him. “Should I be flattered?”

    Cullen managed a smile, his pulse still steadying. “Maybe I just like this table.”

    “Of course you do,” she replied lightly, sitting down.

    For a moment, they simply looked at each other, the silence filled with unspoken relief. Then Cullen leaned forward, his voice soft but curious. “How was your week?”

    Ariana hesitated briefly, then began recounting her travels. She spoke of Crestwood, of its quiet hills and the ruins of Caer Bronach that had captured her attention. There was a wistful quality to her voice as she described wandering the fortress, imagining the battles it had once withstood. But there was something else, too—a flicker of hesitation, as though she wasn’t telling him everything.

    “And you?” she asked, turning the question back to him. “What’s been keeping you busy at the Circle?”

    He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “The usual. Reports, patrols, ensuring the apprentices don’t accidentally set something on fire.” His tone was light, but there was a weariness beneath it that Ariana didn’t miss.

    “It doesn’t sound like you’ve had much rest,” she said, concern flickering in her eyes.

    Cullen shrugged. “It comes with the duty.”

    “And how long do you plan to keep carrying it all on your own?” she asked softly, her gaze steady.

    The question caught him off guard, and he looked away, the corner of his mouth twitching into a faint smile. “I’ll manage.”

    They fell into a rhythm after that, the conversation weaving between stories of her travels and anecdotes from his work. Hours passed without either of them noticing. The tavern slowly emptied, the patrons filtering out one by one until only the two of them remained. Gilbert, ever the silent observer, let them stay, tending quietly to his duties without interrupting.

    She tilted her head, her expression softening. “I… I’m glad I came back.”

    His chest tightened at her words, but he kept his tone light. “So am I.”

    The conversation slowed as the night deepened, the quiet hum of the tavern wrapping around them like a cocoon. For the first time in days, Cullen felt at ease, as though the world outside could wait just a little longer. Ariana’s presence, her laughter, her quiet determination—it was enough to make him believe that maybe, just maybe, his mother had been right.

    ~~~

    As the days passed, Gilbert, the tavernkeep, had become an unexpected ally in their arrangement, discreetly helping Ariana and Cullen exchange notes to coordinate their meetings. Gilbert seemed endlessly entertained by the two of them, watching the young “friends” with a knowing grin every time they insisted on their strictly platonic relationship. Yet neither Cullen nor Ariana could deny how much those meetings meant to them.

    In one of their many conversations, Cullen happened to ask about her past birthdays. Ariana, without much thought, mentioned in passing that her birthday was only a couple of weeks away—5 Harvestmere. She’d be turning seventeen. He took note of it, and while his face remained calm, his mind was already spinning with ideas. She’d spoken so casually about it, as though it were an afterthought, but the admission lingered in his thoughts long after their conversation had ended.

    He wanted to make her birthday memorable. She deserved a moment of celebration, something to remind her that she was more than just a girl on the run. But what could he give her? Her life was still so unsettled, and every gift he thought of seemed fleeting or impractical. No, not a gift, he decided. What she really needs is time to relax, to feel like herself.

    With a quiet grin, he hatched a plan. He would take the day off and spend it entirely with her, creating a celebration neither of them would forget.

    In the meantime, they settled into a sort of rhythm. Ariana would spend two or three days near the lake, then travel back to Crestwood to rest for a few days before returning. Cullen, on his end, found ways to manage his responsibilities at the Circle while ensuring he could see her as often as possible. He mentioned to her that he’d have a few extra shifts but would be free for a day after the 4th. It was a casual excuse, a bit of misdirection to ensure she wouldn’t suspect anything. Ariana, distracted by her own routine, agreed without much thought and carried on with her back-and-forth journeys.

    When the night of the 4th arrived, Cullen stood at the bar of The Spoiled Princess, carefully folding a note. He handed it to Gilbert, his expression firm but warm. “Make sure she gets this as soon as she comes in,” he instructed.

    Gilbert raised an eyebrow, glancing at the folded paper. “You’re not planning on waiting for her tonight?”

    Cullen shook his head, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Not tonight. I have something to take care of before morning.”

    The tavernkeep’s knowing grin returned, but he didn’t press further. He tucked the note away in a safe spot and nodded. “She’ll get it. You’ve got my word.”

    As Cullen left the tavern, the cool evening air brushing against his face, he allowed himself a brief moment to reflect. Tomorrow wasn’t just about her birthday. It was about giving her something that felt real, something to anchor her in a world that so often felt like it was slipping away. And maybe, in doing so, it would give him something real, too.

    Tomorrow will be perfect, he thought. It had to be.

    ~~~

    Later that evening, Ariana pushed open the door of The Spoiled Princess, stepping into the familiar warmth of the tavern. Her eyes instinctively scanned the room, looking for a familiar face among the patrons. Her heart sank slightly when she didn’t see him. Cullen wasn’t here.

    She exhaled softly, trying to quell the disappointment that crept into her chest. It was foolish, she told herself. He couldn’t always be here waiting for her. He had his duties, his life at the Circle. And yet, she couldn’t help but wish he was sitting at their usual table, offering that steady smile that seemed to ground her in ways she didn’t quite understand.

    Before she could dwell on it further, Gilbert’s voice called out from the bar. “Ariana!”

    She turned toward him, and her brow furrowed slightly at the grin plastered across his face. His eyes twinkled with a mischief she’d grown accustomed to, and she tilted her head in curiosity as he waved her over.

    “What?” she asked as she approached, already wary of whatever teasing remark he might have prepared.

    Instead of speaking, Gilbert reached beneath the counter and pulled out a folded note. His grin widened as he handed it to her, the air of smug satisfaction unmistakable. Ariana raised an eyebrow, taking the note from him cautiously.

    “What’s that look about?” she asked, folding her arms and fixing him with a playful glare.

    Gilbert shrugged, feigning innocence. “Just read it, lass. I’m only the messenger here.”

    Her suspicion deepened, but curiosity quickly won out. She unfolded the note carefully, her heart quickening as she recognized the handwriting:

    Ari,

    Meet me by the ruins at dawn tomorrow. Bring whatever you might need for the day—and perhaps be ready for anything.

    I’ll be waiting.

    —Cullen

    The moment she read Cullen’s words, a slow smile crept onto her face. She could hear his voice in the phrase be ready for anything, and the mixture of anticipation and excitement it stirred within her was impossible to ignore.

    As she folded the note and tucked it away, realization dawned on her. Tomorrow. He remembered my birthday. That’s why he had the day off, why he’d been so insistent about being free after the 4th.

    Her chest tightened, a warm, unfamiliar feeling rising within her. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had gone out of their way to make her feel celebrated, to show that she mattered. The thought that Cullen had not only remembered but planned something for her made her heart race in a way she couldn’t quite name.

    Gilbert’s voice broke through her thoughts. “Good news, then?” he asked, though his grin suggested he already knew the answer.

    Ariana shot him a look but couldn’t suppress her smile. “Maybe.”

    He chuckled, leaning on the counter. “Well, you’d best get some rest. You’ll need it if you’re to be ‘ready for anything.’”

    She rolled her eyes but laughed softly. “Thanks, Gilbert.”

    As she left the bar and climbed the stairs to her room, her thoughts were already spinning with possibilities. She didn’t know what Cullen had planned, but the promise of the day ahead filled her with a sense of excitement she hadn’t felt in years.

    Dawn cannot come soon enough, she thought, lying back on the bed with a small, secret smile. For the first time in a long time, she let herself look forward to tomorrow.

    ~~~

    Cullen stood near the ruins, the early morning light casting a soft, golden glow over the ancient stone. He adjusted the straps of his pack for what felt like the hundredth time, pacing slightly as he glanced toward the path. His heart raced in anticipation, the quiet morning amplifying the sound of every beat. He’d planned this day carefully, every detail meant to bring her some measure of joy, but now, with the moment upon him, doubt began to creep in.

    What if she doesn’t enjoy it? What if I’ve misread this entirely?

    The thought gnawed at him, but before it could take root, the sound of footsteps reached his ears. He turned, catching sight of her approaching figure, and the doubts melted away. She was here. She had come.

    Ariana stepped into the clearing, her eyes scanning the ruins with quiet curiosity. Cullen watched her, unable to suppress the small smile tugging at his lips. She moved with such a natural grace, yet there was a guardedness to her, a careful way she carried herself as though always preparing for the worst. He wanted, more than anything, to give her a day where she didn’t have to look over her shoulder.

    As she stepped further into the ruins, her brow furrowed slightly. Looking for me, he realized, and a mischievous idea struck him. Silently, he closed the distance between them. Before she could notice, his arms wrapped around her from behind, pulling her close. She gasped, but her tension eased immediately as he said, his voice low and teasing, “Caught you again, my lady. You must be slipping around me.”

    Her laughter was like sunlight breaking through clouds, warm and bright. “I would not be so confident, Ser Cullen,” she shot back, slipping from his grasp with an agility that left him impressed. Spinning to face him, her eyes sparkled with playful defiance.

    Cullen grinned, his chest tightening at the sight of her. Without a word, he bent down to retrieve the wooden training swords he’d hidden earlier, tossing one her way. She caught it effortlessly, and the way she twirled it with practiced ease only deepened his admiration.

    “Careful now,” she said, smirking. “I have no intention of going easy on you.”

    He couldn’t hold back a laugh. “I’d be disappointed if you did.”

    The sparring match that followed was exhilarating for both of them, though Cullen quickly realized she was better trained than he had expected. Ariana moved with sharp precision, her strikes calculated and swift, forcing Cullen to stay on his guard. He could see the marks of hard-earned experience in the way she shifted her weight, anticipating his movements.

    Yet, for all her skill, Cullen had years of disciplined training on his side. He parried her first flurry of attacks with practiced ease, stepping lightly out of reach before countering with a measured strike that she barely blocked in time.

    “You’re faster than I expected,” he remarked, his voice laced with genuine admiration.

    Ariana smirked, feinting left before striking low. “I’ve had good teachers.”

    “And you’ve listened well,” Cullen said as he parried her strike and pressed forward, forcing her to retreat a few steps.

    The match continued, their movements a fluid exchange of attack and defense. Ariana landed a solid blow against his side during one round, earning a genuine laugh from Cullen as he rubbed the spot. “Alright,” he admitted, “that was well done.”

    But as the rounds progressed, Cullen’s superior training began to show. He anticipated her feints more often than not, countering with strikes that she struggled to deflect. Even so, she never stopped pressing him, her determination shining through every swing of her blade.

    By the time they paused for breath, Cullen had claimed more victories than she had, though he was careful not to gloat. Instead, he looked at her with an expression of quiet admiration. “You’re relentless,” he said, his tone filled with respect. “Most of the recruits I’ve trained with would’ve yielded long before now.”

    Ariana grinned, leaning on the wooden sword as she caught her breath. “None of them were me.”

    Cullen chuckled, shaking his head. “Fair point.”

    The tension between them eased into something lighter as they stood there, both winded but smiling. The admiration in Cullen’s gaze lingered, though he kept his thoughts to himself. She had surprised him today, not just with her skill but with the way she approached each round—with determination and an unshakable confidence that he couldn’t help but admire.

    Around mid-morning, Cullen set down a blanket near the edge of the lake, the morning sun dancing across the water, and invited her to sit. “A victory feast,” he teased, as he unpacked a spread of fruit, bread, and cheeses he’d prepared, pouring them each a drink.

    She laughed, the sound filling the space between them. “You’re far too good at this.”

    “At what?”

    “Making me forget everything else,” she said softly, her gaze meeting his. The vulnerability in her words struck him, and he felt a surge of determination to give her a day worth remembering.

    As they ate, their conversation flowed easily. She told him about her travels, her fascination with ruins like these, and the stories they seemed to hold. He listened intently, asking questions that brought out her enthusiasm. Her laughter came more freely as the morning stretched into afternoon.

    Finally, he leaned over to his bag, pulling out the books he’d carefully chosen. “These are for you,” he said, his voice soft but steady.

    Her eyes widened as she took the first volume, her fingers reverent as they traced the worn leather binding. “Cullen… I can’t believe you found these.”

    “I remembered what you said,” he replied. “About the constellations, the Evanuris, and… well, I thought these might interest you.”

    She flipped through the pages, her excitement palpable. When she found the constellation Visus on the cover of one, her breath hitched. “You remembered,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

    He smiled, warmth spreading through him. “Every word.”

    Watching her dive into the books, her curiosity and intelligence on full display, was mesmerizing. She read passages aloud, sparking conversations about myths and legends. When the book on the Evanuris mentioned Fen’Harel, she couldn’t resist exploring the ruins again, searching for symbols that matched the text. Cullen followed, content to watch her in her element, her energy infectious.

    By sunset, they had returned to the lakeside. Cullen spread out another blanket, the sky above them shifting into shades of violet and gold. They pointed out constellations as the stars emerged, laughing as they invented their own. The quiet joy of the day settled over them, a warmth that lingered as twilight deepened.

    Lying side by side, Ariana traced the constellation Visus in the sky. Her gaze shifted to him, her eyes bright with meaning. He didn’t ask what she was thinking; he didn’t need to.

    As the night stretched on, their laughter softened, replaced by the quiet hum of the lake and the gentle glow of moonlight. Cullen felt her head rest against his shoulder, her hand curling gently in his. The steady rhythm of her breathing matched his own, and for the first time in a long while, the world felt still.

    This, he thought as he gazed at the stars above, is what home feels like.

    ~~~

    The path from Lake Calenhad to West Hill was familiar to Ariana now, the winding roads and scattered groves offering a mix of solitude and reflection. The early morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of damp earth and wildflowers as she adjusted her pack and set a steady pace. Her thoughts, however, were far from the road ahead.

    Her birthday had been… perfect. For all the grand celebrations she’d endured in Ostwick, the extravagant dinners and formal affairs that had felt more like performances than moments of joy, this was the first time she truly felt seen. Cullen had given her something no one else ever had: a sense of safety, of being valued not for who she was supposed to be but for who she was.

    The way he had remembered everything—from her fascination with constellations to the stories she had shared in passing—left her heart full and her mind spinning. There had been no lavish gifts, but the thoughtfulness in his actions had been worth more than all the silks and jewels she’d been showered with in her past.

    She could still feel the weight of his shoulder beneath her head, the steady rise and fall of his breathing as they drifted off to sleep under the stars. The safety she had felt in that moment was unlike anything she had ever known. With Frederick, her best friend since childhood, there had been countless times they had fallen asleep together after a long day of exploring or simply lounging beneath the trees. But it had never felt like this. This was different—deeper, more intimate in a way she couldn’t quite articulate.

    Cullen’s presence felt like a shield she hadn’t realized she’d needed. She’d always been the one to protect herself, to stay on guard, but with him, it was as if she could finally let go. And that terrified her as much as it thrilled her.

    The thought of how Varric would take her decision to remain in Crestwood loomed over her as she approached a fork in the road. She planned to send word to him from West Hill, explaining that Denerim was too far, Lothering too conspicuous. Crestwood offered the right balance of anonymity and proximity. But deep down, she knew the truth wasn’t so practical. She was staying for Cullen.

    Varric would see through her reasoning immediately. He always did. His letters had been filled with warnings and well-meaning jabs, urging her to stay cautious. After all, Michael finding her and attempting to drag her back to Ostwick had been a near disaster. She knew he’d argue that staying close to the Circle was too great a risk, but the thought of leaving now… she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

    As the sun climbed higher, Ariana’s trek was interrupted by a distant shout. She froze, her hand instinctively moving to the hilt of her dagger. The road ahead curved sharply, obscured by dense trees, but the unmistakable sound of voices carried through the stillness. Bandits.

    Her pulse quickened as she scanned her surroundings. The trees to her left provided cover, and she slipped into their shadows, moving with practiced quiet. From her vantage point, she spotted a group of three men blocking the road, their weapons drawn and their demeanor threatening. A merchant’s cart was halted before them, its owner pleading while one of the bandits rifled through a sack of goods.

    Not my fight, she told herself, crouching lower behind a thicket. But even as the thought formed, her instincts screamed otherwise. The merchant’s desperation was evident, his voice trembling as he tried to reason with the men. Ariana’s grip tightened on her dagger.

    Instead of rushing in, she took a moment to assess the situation. The bandits looked disorganized, their movements clumsy and inexperienced. Two of them stood close together near the cart, while the third, the one rifling through the merchant’s goods, was slightly apart from the others. Nearby, a small cluster of loose stones sat on the edge of the path.

    An idea formed. She picked up one of the stones and hurled it into the underbrush on the opposite side of the road. The sound of rustling leaves and a dull thud caught the bandits’ attention.

    “What was that?” one of them asked, turning toward the noise.

    “Probably nothing,” another grunted, but his grip on his sword tightened.

    “Go check it out,” the first one ordered the third, the one near the cart.

    As the third bandit moved toward the sound, Ariana slipped closer to the road. Staying low, she waited until he was just out of sight of the others before striking. A quick, silent blow to the back of his head with the hilt of her dagger sent him crumpling to the ground. She dragged him into the shadows before returning her attention to the remaining two.

    The bandits by the cart were arguing now, their focus split between the merchant and the imagined threat in the woods. Ariana picked up another stone and tossed it further down the road, creating another distraction. This time, both bandits turned their backs to the cart, their attention fully on the noise.

    Taking advantage of their distraction, Ariana moved swiftly. She darted toward the nearest bandit, her dagger slicing through the strap of his scabbard to disarm him before delivering a precise kick to the back of his knee. He fell with a grunt, and before the other could react, Ariana had her blade at his throat.

    “Drop it,” she said evenly, her voice low and commanding.

    The remaining bandit hesitated, his eyes darting between her and his weapon. Finally, he let it fall to the ground, raising his hands in surrender.

    “Take your friend and go,” she ordered, her tone sharp. “And if I see you on this road again, you won’t be walking away.”

    The bandit scrambled to comply, helping his companion to his feet before they stumbled into the trees, leaving the merchant’s cart untouched.

    Ariana exhaled, the tension in her body easing as she turned to the merchant. “You should go,” she said, her tone softer now. “Quickly.”

    The merchant nodded fervently, gathering his goods and urging his horse forward. As the cart disappeared down the road, Ariana lingered for a moment, ensuring the bandits didn’t return. Satisfied, she slipped back into the trees and continued her journey, her pulse still racing.

    By the time she reached West Hill, the sun was beginning to set, casting the village in warm hues of orange and gold. She made her way to the inn, the familiar hum of voices and clinking glasses greeting her as she stepped inside. Settling at a quiet corner table, she pulled out a sheet of parchment and began to write.

    Varric,

    I’ve decided to stay in Crestwood for now. It’s quiet, out of the way, and close enough to West Hill for me to send word regularly. Denerim is too far, and Lothering… well, it’s not the right fit. This feels like the right choice.

    I know you’ll have thoughts, as always. But trust me on this. I’ll keep my head down and stay safe. Besides, I’m not ready to leave just yet.

    She hesitated, the pen hovering over the parchment. What else could she say without revealing too much? With a small sigh, she added a simple closing line.

    Thank you for everything.

    -Ariana

    ~~~

    As usual, Ariana met Cullen by the Elven ruins, their unofficial meeting place. It had become a haven of sorts—a quiet, secluded spot where they could escape the world’s expectations and simply exist. Ariana leaned against a weathered stone, her arms crossed as she gazed at the shimmering lake below.

    “Something on your mind?” Cullen asked, though his tone carried more than curiosity. There was an edge of concern as he watched her.

    “Just thinking,” she replied, her voice tinged with thoughtfulness. “For all the running I’ve done, all the uncertainty… I wouldn’t trade these days for anything.” She tilted her head back against the stone, closing her eyes briefly.

    Cullen’s expression softened, but her quiet tone lingered with him. “I’m glad,” he said sincerely, though his gaze searched her face. After a pause, he ventured, “You deserve moments like this.”

    She opened her eyes, her lips curving into a faint smile. “And you’ve been a big part of that. I’m not sure what I would have done without you.” Her voice grew quieter, a vulnerability slipping through that made his chest tighten.

    The warmth of her words struck him, but so did the unspoken weight behind them. Clearing his throat, Cullen shifted slightly. “Is that all that’s on your mind?” he pressed gently. “You’ve seemed quiet since you got back. Did something happen in West Hill?”

    Ariana hesitated, her gaze flicking to the lake. “There was… a small altercation on the road,” she admitted. “A merchant was being harassed by some bandits. Three of them. They weren’t very organized, but it still…”

    Cullen’s shoulders stiffened, his expression sharpening. “Are you telling me you took on three bandits?”

    “I had the element of surprise,” she replied quickly, trying to downplay it. “I used the terrain to my advantage, caused a few distractions. It wasn’t as reckless as it sounds.”

    But Cullen’s jaw tightened, and his arms crossed over his chest as he processed her words. “Ari, you’re skilled, but that’s dangerous,” he said, his voice low with tension. “What if something had gone wrong?”

    Her expression didn’t waver, though her voice softened. “I couldn’t just leave him,” she said simply. “He was defenseless. I had to do something.”

    Cullen exhaled sharply, the sound weighted with frustration and worry. He looked at her, his eyes holding both admiration and a growing determination. “I’ve been thinking,” he said after a long pause, his tone steadier now. “Would you be interested in becoming my sparring partner? Training, I mean.”

    Ariana blinked, her surprise evident. “You want to train me?”

    He nodded, though his expression remained serious. “You’re skilled, but from what I’ve seen, there’s room to refine your technique. Templars are trained to fight all kinds of opponents, but… most of my sparring partners aren’t as fast as you. It would be good practice for both of us.”

    Ariana’s initial surprise gave way to a grin. “So, you’re saying you need me to keep you sharp?”

    Cullen allowed a faint smile, shaking his head. “Something like that,” he admitted. Then his expression grew more intent. “But more importantly, I want to know you can keep yourself safe. You’ve done well so far, but if there’s anything I can teach you… it would give me some peace of mind.”

    Her grin softened into something warmer, and she tilted her head slightly. “You mean how to avoid getting caught by Templars again?” she teased lightly before her tone turned sincere. “I’d like that, Cullen. Really. I can’t think of a better teacher.”

    Her words caught him off guard, but he managed to nod, feeling the knot of worry in his chest ease slightly. “Then we’ll start tomorrow,” he said firmly.

    Their first session took place the next morning in a quiet clearing near the ruins. Cullen had brought wooden training swords and a few supplies, arranging them methodically while Ariana watched nearby. Her excitement was palpable, her movements filled with determination.

    “Where would you like to start?” she asked, her tone eager.

    “With your stance,” he replied, motioning for her to stand before him. “It’s the foundation of everything. Even the best strikes fail if your balance is off.”

    She adjusted her feet, mimicking the stance she’d been taught by her father, refined by Varric. Cullen circled her, his sharp gaze analyzing every detail. Gently, he nudged her left foot outward with his boot.

    Ariana was enjoying this side of Cullen. The well-trained, devoted Templar. The man who had spent years honing his skills. He was focused and skilled.

    “Better,” he said, his voice encouraging. “Now, let’s see your guard.”

    Ariana raised the wooden blade, her grip firm. Cullen stepped closer, adjusting her posture with careful precision. His touch lingered briefly on her arm as he guided it into position. “Good,” he said. “Keep your movements tight. Wide swings leave you vulnerable.”

    She couldn’t ignore the way her heart fluttered at his proximity. There was something about his focus, his quiet confidence, that made her feel both at ease and electrified. More than once, their eyes met as he adjusted her form, and she quickly turned her attention back to the training, hoping he didn’t notice her distraction.

    They spent the better part of an hour running through drills, Cullen correcting her form and offering pointers. Despite the structured nature of the session, their banter lightened the mood.

    “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” she teased after dodging one of his strikes with surprising agility.

    “I’ll admit, it’s nice to have a challenge,” he replied, a grin tugging at his lips. “But don’t get too confident. We’re just getting started.”

    As the weeks passed, their sparring sessions became a regular part of Ariana’s visits. Cullen’s training pushed her limits, refining her technique and teaching her to anticipate attacks more effectively. He admired her quick learning and tenacity, though he was careful not to push her too hard.

    For Ariana, the sessions were more than just a chance to improve. She trusted Cullen, not just with her safety but with the vulnerabilities that came with learning. His patience and encouragement meant more to her than she could express, and each session deepened the bond they shared.

    One afternoon, after an especially intense bout that ended with her flat on her back, Cullen extended a hand to help her up. She took it, breathless but smiling. “You’re relentless,” she said, shaking her head. “Do you know that?”

    “I could say the same about you,” he replied, pulling her to her feet. “But that’s a good thing. You’re stronger than you think.”

    Her smile lingered, her chest tightening at the sincerity in his voice. “Thank you, Cullen. For this. For everything.”

    He nodded, his expression softening. “Always.”

    ~~~

    Over the next few months, Ariana settled into a steady rhythm, her life in Ferelden moving at a pace both comforting and precarious. She spent two or three days in Crestwood, keeping a low profile, before making her way to Lake Calenhad to be close to Cullen. Each month, she set aside a week for a journey to West Hill, sending and receiving packages and letters.

    Varric’s business dealings in Ferelden increased steadily, and in true Varric fashion, he “hired” her for small tasks, offering a plausible cover for his continued help. Of course, he maintained the charade that it was purely business, though Ariana saw right through him. He never could fool her, but she appreciated the gesture nonetheless.

    Through Varric, she corresponded with her father, using Isabel, who had helped her flee Ostwick, as an intermediary. Isabel’s unassuming role provided the perfect cover; no one would suspect her involvement in anything beyond household matters. Ariana’s father’s letters brought comfort, a reminder of the life she’d left behind, and while she was careful not to mention Cullen by name, she was more candid about her experiences in Ferelden. She feared her father would see Cullen as a reckless infatuation, a young girl in over her head with a Templar she barely knew. In truth, she was not even sure what to call what lay between them—friendship, companionship, something unspoken yet deeper than either wanted to acknowledge.

    Her letters to Varric, however, were laced with humor, dropping hints about a “certain handsome Templar.” She emphasized it was nothing serious, that she was well aware of her situation and wasn’t throwing herself headlong into romance. Still, she kept Cullen’s name private, knowing Varric too well; he would mobilize his network to investigate and likely try to talk her out of it, reasoning she could never afford such risks. Perhaps he would be right. But as weeks turned to months, she found nothing could dissuade her from seeing Cullen again and again.

    As for Ariana and Cullen, they settled into their own unspoken routine, a quiet understanding that grew in the spaces between words. While neither openly moved beyond the boundaries of friendship, there was an unmistakable closeness. The occasional soft kiss on the cheek or gentle touch of her hand in his spoke of a bond far deeper than mere companionship. Yet, nothing more ever passed between them, and their nights stargazing remained the one place they could simply exist, wrapped in each other’s arms under the expanse of stars, finding comfort and peace in that silent, shared connection.

  • Chapter 8 – An Unexpected Family

    9 – 14 Kingsway 9:29

    They secured passage on a boat quickly, to Ariana’s relief. She didn’t want to linger at the docks any longer than necessary. Even though Cullen assured her that Michael would be tied up with assigned duties for the day, she couldn’t shake her unease. The idea of being caught now, after the quiet, heartfelt moments they’d shared—their laughter, the way he’d said her name, Maker—was unbearable. The last thing she wanted was to lose him or be forced to run again.

    As the boat drifted southward across the still waters of Lake Calenhad, Cullen seemed more at ease than she’d ever seen him. The tension that usually marked his posture softened, replaced by a quiet curiosity. His questions grew more personal, his curiosity about her life in Ostwick bubbling over. He asked what exactly she was running from, and how she had come to be here. He leaned back, his hands resting casually on the edges of the boat as he glanced at her. “So,” he said with a small grin, “is Ryss even your real name?.”

    Ariana chuckled, a playful gleam in her eye “Fine. Let me introduce myself properly.” Straightening her posture and adopting an exaggeratedly formal tone, she said, “Lady Ariana Ryss Trevelyan, youngest daughter of Bann Charles Trevelyan of Ostwick…” Her voice trailed off as she broke into laughter, unable to maintain the facade.

    Cullen laughed along with her, though the words lingered in his mind. Trevelyan. A noble house, one with significant ties to the Chantry. He remembered Greagoir’s words about her family. He couldn’t shake the feeling of intimidation. She wasn’t just anyone—she was nobility, someone raised in a world of titles, balls, and expectations. And here he was, a Templar from a modest farming family, with no claim to status or wealth. Maybe I was right, he thought, his smile faltering for just a moment. Someone like her deserves more than someone like me could give her. Yet the way she looked at him, her eyes warm and inviting, stirred a hope he struggled to suppress.

    Their journey continued, and for the first time, Ariana felt the weight of secrecy lift. She told him everything. She spoke of the ambush at the party, her mother’s relentless obsession with status, the engagement to Frederick, and her reasons for fleeing.

    At the mention of her engagement to Frederick, Cullen’s expression tightened imperceptibly. She didn’t seem to notice, lost in her own recounting. But inside, a hint of jealousy stirred. He reminded himself that she had rejected that life, that she had chosen freedom over duty. Yet the thought of her being tied to another man, of her belonging to a world where she’d be caged by expectations, left an ache he couldn’t quite ignore.

    He shifted slightly, his gaze falling to the water as she continued. The idea of Ariana in another man’s arms, as someone else’s wife, twisted something deep within him. He hated the thought of her being stripped of her independence, of that light in her eyes being dimmed by obligation. But alongside his jealousy was an even stronger feeling—admiration. She had fought for her freedom, risked everything to carve her own path. And she had trusted him enough to share that with him.

    When she finished, silence settled between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Cullen glanced back at her, watching as the sunlight danced across her features. He wanted to tell her how incredible he thought she was, how much he admired her strength and courage. But the words caught in his throat, trapped by doubt and a fear of overstepping.

    Instead, he said softly, “You’ve been through so much… and yet you’re still standing. That’s no small thing.”

    She turned to him, her smile soft but genuine. “And yet,” she said, her tone teasing, “I seem to have a habit of getting myself into trouble.”

    Cullen chuckled, shaking his head. “Well, if trouble comes looking for you, at least you’ll have someone watching your back.”

    Ariana’s heart fluttered at his words, the quiet sincerity in his voice leaving her momentarily speechless. She looked out over the water, unsure if he realized the effect he had on her. She wasn’t sure where this connection between them might lead, but for now, she was content to let the journey carry them forward.

    ~~~

    By the time nightfall came, the boat reached the shores of Redcliffe, its silhouette striking against the dusky sky. The village was nestled against the rocky cliffs that gave it its name, the towering red stones almost glowing in the fading sunlight. A castle loomed above on the bluffs, its dark outline a reminder of the land’s history. Below, the village lights twinkled warmly, smoke curling from chimneys as residents went about their evening routines. The tranquil waters of the lake reflected the orange and pink hues of the sunset, creating a scene so picturesque that Ariana paused for a moment to take it all in.

    “It’s beautiful,” she murmured, her voice tinged with awe.

    Cullen smiled, his gaze shifting from the view to her. “It has its charm. Wait until you see Honnleath, though. It’s simpler, quieter.”

    They disembarked and made their way into the village, the cobbled streets uneven beneath their boots. Despite the late hour, the streets were still lively with merchants packing up their wares and villagers finishing their chores. The air smelled of wood smoke, baked goods, and the faint tang of the lake. They found a modest inn near the center of the village, its wooden sign swinging gently in the breeze, depicting a hound curled by a fire.

    Inside, the inn was warm and welcoming, the hearth blazing and casting golden light across the room. The innkeeper greeted them with a cheerful smile, showing them to a small but clean room with two beds and a shared nightstand between them. Once they’d stowed their belongings, they made their way downstairs for dinner.

    The common room was lively but not overly crowded, the hum of conversation and occasional laughter creating a cozy atmosphere. They found a table near the hearth, where Cullen ordered a hearty stew, fresh bread, and mugs of ale for them both.

    As they ate, their conversation turned easily to their respective lives.

    Ariana shared more about her time in Kirkwall, her stories colored with humor and intrigue. She spoke of her adventures and the people she’d met, careful not to delve too deeply into Varric’s affairs or name him outright. Instead, she focused on the friendships she’d forged and how they had helped her navigate a city as chaotic as Kirkwall.

    Cullen listened intently, his expression warm as he absorbed her tales. “Kirkwall sounds… overwhelming,” he admitted with a chuckle. “I don’t know if I could handle a place like that.”

    She smiled. “It’s not for everyone. It took me a while to adjust, but once I did, it felt like home. Well, as much as anywhere can feel like home when you’re running.”

    He nodded, his gaze thoughtful. “It sounds like you found people who cared about you there. That’s rare.”

    In turn, Cullen spoke about what awaited her in Honnleath, his voice softening with fondness. He described the village as small and unassuming, nestled among rolling hills and sprawling farmland. “It’s peaceful,” he said, his tone almost wistful. “The kind of place where nothing really changes, and everyone knows each other.”

    He went on to talk about his siblings, especially his older sister, Mia. “She’ll probably be the one asking all the questions,” he warned with a teasing smile. “She’s relentless when it comes to details, so… brace yourself.”

    Ariana laughed, her curiosity piqued. “And your other siblings?”

    “Branson, my younger brother—he’s the practical one. Always busy, always helping out around the farm. And then there’s Rosalie, the youngest. She’s got more energy than anyone I’ve ever met.” His expression softened as he spoke, a rare glimpse of vulnerability that made her heart ache a little.

    “You must miss them,” she said gently.

    “I do,” he admitted. “I don’t write as often as I should, and Mia never lets me forget it. She’ll probably have a lecture ready as soon as I walk through the door.”

    Ariana smiled, finding comfort in the way he spoke about his family. It was clear that, despite the distance and the demands of his duties, they were still a source of strength for him.

    As their conversation wound down, the innkeeper brought over a plate of honey cakes as a complimentary treat. They shared the dessert, their laughter and easy banter filling the space between them. For a moment, it felt as though the weight of their respective worlds had lifted, leaving only the simple joy of each other’s company.

    By the time they returned to their room, the village had quieted, the only sounds the occasional murmur of voices from the common room below and the distant call of an owl. As Ariana settled into bed, her thoughts lingered on Cullen’s stories, the warmth in his voice, and the way he looked at her when he thought she wasn’t paying attention. She fell asleep with a smile, feeling, for the first time in a long while, that she wasn’t running alone.

    ~~~

    They set out at dawn, the rising sun painting the horizon in hues of gold and pink as they began their journey. Two days of travel lay ahead, and the rhythm of their steps fell into an easy cadence. Conversation ebbed and flowed between them, punctuated by stretches of comfortable silence. Ariana marveled at how natural it felt to be around Cullen. She didn’t feel the need to perform or prove anything. She could just be herself.

    By evening, they found a clearing to make camp, the open space framed by tall pines and the soft glow of the setting sun. Cullen busied himself building a fire, the steady scrape of flint and steel filling the air. Ariana sat nearby, unpacking her belongings, though her movements were absentminded. Her thoughts drifted to his stories about Mia—his fiercely protective sister. She imagined the questions Mia might ask, the way she might see right through Ariana’s carefully guarded exterior.

    But it wasn’t just Mia that troubled her. Ariana couldn’t shake the guilt gnawing at her, the weight of the danger she brought with her. Mercenaries, hired by the Duke of Markham, were actively searching for her. If they tracked her here… Cullen had a family that loved and depended on him. What right did she have to jeopardize that?

    Am I selfish for staying? she wondered, her fingers mindlessly smoothing and folding her blanket.

    The fire sparked to life, its warm glow spreading across the clearing, but Ariana didn’t notice. She was too lost in her thoughts, her mind a tangle of fear and self-recrimination.

    Cullen had been watching her for a while, his task finished. He noticed the way her eyes seemed distant, her movements slower, as if she were caught in some invisible struggle. He recognized that look—the heavy weight of worry dragging someone down. He couldn’t stand to see it in her.

    “Ariana?” he called softly, his voice breaking through the haze of her thoughts.

    Her head snapped up, startled. “What? Oh… yes, sorry,” she stammered, blinking as if waking from a dream. “Did you ask me something?”

    Cullen moved closer, his worry deepening. “You seemed… far away,” he said gently, kneeling down beside her. “Do you want to talk about it?”

    The question, so simple yet so sincere, brought a lump to her throat. Before she could stop herself, tears welled in her eyes, spilling over and streaking down her cheeks. She didn’t even know what she was crying over—whether it was the exhaustion of the journey, the constant fear of being caught, or the overwhelming relief of having someone who cared enough to ask.

    “Ariana—what’s wrong?” Cullen’s voice was filled with alarm, and before she could answer, he pulled her into his arms, wrapping her in a protective embrace. She buried her face against his shoulder, letting his warmth and steady presence soothe her.

    “I’m sorry,” she whispered between shaky breaths. “I don’t even know why… I just—” Her voice cracked, and she pulled back slightly, wiping at her cheeks. “I’m worried, Cullen. About all of this. About your family. About what I might be dragging you into.”

    Cullen’s brow furrowed as he listened, his hands resting gently on her shoulders. “What do you mean?” he asked, his tone steady, encouraging her to continue.

    “I’m being hunted,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “There are mercenaries looking for me—hired by the Duke of Markham. I don’t know what they’re capable of, how far they’d go. If they find me, if they follow me to your family…” Her words came in a torrent, the weight of her fears pouring out all at once. “I shouldn’t have come with you. It’s not fair to you or your family.”

    Cullen reached for her hands, his grip firm but gentle, grounding her. “Ariana, listen to me,” he said, his voice calm but resolute. “You’re not dragging me into anything I can’t handle. You do remember I’m a Templar, right? I’m trained for this—for protecting people, for standing up to anyone who threatens them.”

    “But your family…” she began, her voice filled with worry.

    “My family can take care of themselves,” he interrupted, his expression softening. “And I won’t let anything happen to them. Or to you.”

    Ariana searched his face, her eyes glistening with doubt. “How can you be so sure?”

    “Because I’m here,” he said simply, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “And I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe. You’re not alone anymore.”

    His words washed over her, soothing her frayed nerves. She let out a shaky breath, a small, grateful smile tugging at her lips. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

    They sat there in silence for a while, the fire crackling softly beside them. Without thinking, Ariana leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder. Cullen held her, realizing only then the faint, comforting scent of cinnamon in her hair. It was a simple detail, but it stirred something unexpectedly gentle in him. Bringing one hand up, he cradled her head, letting his fingers brush over her hair.

    In that moment, nothing else mattered—not the mercenaries, not the uncertainty of tomorrow. For now, Ariana was safe. And Cullen, holding her close, felt a quiet determination settle in his chest. Whatever challenges lay ahead, he would face them—because she was worth it. Because she was his.

    As the stars began to appear overhead, Cullen whispered, “You’re incredible, Ari. Even when it’s your life and your fate at risk you’re worried about everyone else.”

    The nickname startled her, but it brought a warmth to her chest she couldn’t deny. She tilted her head to look up at him, her smile soft and genuine. “You’re not so bad yourself,” she replied, her voice light with affection.

    The world around them faded into the background as they sat together by the fire, the night wrapping them in a cocoon of quiet intimacy. For the first time, both of them felt as though they had found something worth holding onto. Without realizing it, she drifted off, nestled into the space between his shoulder and neck, and Cullen let her rest there, feeling the warmth of her body against him.

    ~~~

    As the morning light filtered through the canopy of trees, Ariana stirred, her eyes fluttering open. For a moment, she was disoriented, the unfamiliar surroundings catching her off guard. This isn’t my bedroll, she realized, blinking as memories from the previous night began to surface. The warmth of the campfire, the steady rhythm of Cullen’s voice, and then… Ari. She smiled softly, recalling the way his voice had caressed the nickname, how it had felt like something intimate, uniquely hers.

    Pushing herself up, she glanced around the camp. Cullen was nowhere in sight, but her pack was neatly propped against a nearby log, clearly packed and ready for the day ahead. She couldn’t help but notice the care in the way it was arranged, a small detail that made her chest tighten with warmth. She wandered over to the remnants of the fire, crouching down to feel the lingering heat in the coals, her fingers stretching toward it as if to draw strength from its fading warmth.

    “Good morning, Ari,” came Cullen’s voice from behind her, steady and warm like the morning sun itself. “You’re awake. Did you sleep well?”

    She turned, startled but instantly comforted by his presence. Meeting his gaze, she found herself momentarily caught by the way he looked at her—gentle, attentive, as though she were the only thing in his world at that moment. Her lips curved into a smile, and she let out a soft breath. “I did,” she said, her voice carrying a warmth that mirrored his. “Thank you, Cullen… again.”

    His expression softened, and he nodded as if satisfied by her response. “Good. If you’re ready, we should get moving.” He hesitated for a moment, his gaze lingering on her as though reluctant to break the quiet serenity of the morning. “If all goes well, we’ll make it to Honnleath by dinnertime.”

    They fell into step beside each other as they resumed their journey, the rhythm of their strides synchronizing with an effortless ease. Conversation came naturally, interspersed with comfortable silences that felt as meaningful as the words they shared.

    They talked of many things—her love of astronomy, the way the night sky had always called to her. Ariana recounted how, as a child, she would lie in the grass, staring up at the constellations, imagining the stories they held. She spoke of her father’s tales, a blend of truth and whimsy, and how she used to trace the patterns of the stars with her finger, pretending they were guiding her.

    “So, the Visus constellation,” Cullen said, his curiosity piqued. “You’re saying a twinkling star told you to ‘run’?” His tone was teasing, but the kindness in his eyes tempered it.

    “Yes,” she replied, laughing softly. “It sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it? But that night, it felt like guidance. I needed a sign, something to give me courage, and it was as if the stars themselves answered.”

    Cullen glanced upward, his gaze following hers to the faint outlines of constellations barely visible in the daytime sky. “I don’t think it sounds ridiculous at all,” he said, his voice thoughtful. “Sometimes, we all need a sign to remind us we’re on the right path.”

    His words lingered between them, a quiet reassurance that made her smile.

    The hours passed quickly as they walked, their conversation weaving a tapestry of shared stories and gentle laughter. As the light began to fade, the silhouette of Honnleath appeared on the horizon, nestled against the rolling hills like a storybook village.

    Cullen slowed his pace as they approached, a mix of excitement and nervousness flickering in his expression. “Ready?” he asked, glancing at her. “It’s Saturday night, so my family should all be there.”

    Ariana’s gaze fell on the cozy stone cottage he pointed out, its thatched roof framed by ivy that crept up the walls. Warm light spilled from the windows, casting a welcoming glow over the tidy garden. She felt her breath hitch as a knot of nerves tightened in her chest. “Your whole family…” she murmured, almost to herself. “Well, that doesn’t sound intimidating at all.”

    Cullen’s laugh broke the tension, the sound rich and warm, cutting through her apprehension. It pulled a smile from her despite herself, and she turned to him, her nerves easing under the weight of his reassuring presence.

    “You’ll be fine, Ari,” he said, his voice steady and confident. He rested a hand on her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Trust me. They’re going to love you.”

    She let out a soft laugh, shaking her head at his confidence. “You seem very sure of that,” she said, a teasing note in her voice.

    “I am,” he replied simply, his gaze holding hers. And in that moment, she believed him.

    With a deep breath, Ariana squared her shoulders and nodded. Together, they made their way toward the cottage, the warmth of its light and the promise of what lay ahead filling the air between them.

    ~~~

    As Cullen stepped through the doorway, the familiar warmth of his parents’ home wrapped around him like a comforting blanket. The rich aroma of baking bread filled the air, mingling with the faint scent of herbs and the soft hum of voices coming from the kitchen. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed it until now—the cozy simplicity, the unspoken love woven into every detail of the home. Before he could fully take in the scene, his mother spotted him.

    “Cullen!” Marion’s voice was full of joy as she hurried over, pulling him into a tight embrace. “You’re finally here! Mia told us you might make it, but I wasn’t about to believe it until I saw you with my own eyes. It’s so good to see you.”

    “Good to see you too, Mother,” Cullen said, his tone softening as he returned the hug. “I’m sorry it’s been so long.”

    Ariana lingered in the doorway, her pack still slung over her shoulder, unsure if she should step in or wait for an invitation. She watched the scene unfold, a smile tugging at her lips. There was something achingly pure about the way Marion held Cullen, about the way the family rose from their seats to greet him. It was so different from what she had known growing up, where even familial affection had to be carefully measured, never displayed in front of guests. This was open, unreserved, and unapologetic.

    Mia was the next to greet Cullen, her arms wrapping around him in a fierce hug. “Took you long enough,” she teased, pulling back to look at him with a mock scowl. “I was starting to think you’d forgotten your way home.”

    Rosalie and Branson followed, their greetings full of laughter and warmth, their voices chiming in as they joked about how Cullen still owed them a game of cards. Ariana watched it all, her heart twisting slightly as she realized how different family could be.

    It wasn’t long before Mia’s sharp gaze flicked toward the doorway, landing on Ariana. Her eyebrows arched slightly, her expression shifting to one of curiosity and intrigue. “Well, well,” Mia said, folding her arms. “And who might this be?” Her tone carried a playful lilt, but her eyes were already assessing the unexpected guest.

    Cullen glanced over his shoulder, suddenly remembering Ariana’s presence. He gave her a small, apologetic smile before gesturing for her to step inside. “Everyone,” he said, his tone steady despite the faint blush creeping up his neck, “this is Ariana. She’s… a friend I met while traveling.”

    Mia tilted her head, her smirk deepening as she looked between Cullen and Ariana. “A ‘friend,’ you say? You mean she’s not one of your Templar comrades?”

    Cullen sighed. “No, Mia. Not everyone I know is a Templar.”

    Ariana took a small step forward, offering a polite smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you all,” she said. “Cullen has told me so much about his family.”

    “He has, has he?” Mia replied, her tone full of mischief. “Well, now I have to know what he’s been saying.”

    “Mia,” Cullen interjected, his voice carrying a faint edge of warning, though his expression remained patient. “Ariana’s been traveling for a while, and I offered to help her reach her destination. That’s all.”

    Marion, ever the peacemaker, stepped in with a warm smile, pulling Ariana into a hug before she could protest. “Don’t mind Mia,” she said kindly. “I’m Marion, and that’s my husband, Stanton. You’re most welcome here, dear.”

    Ariana blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the embrace. It wasn’t often that anyone outside of Isabel and her father, and Varric if he was being sentimental, offered her such unrestrained warmth. “Thank you,” she said softly, her voice sincere.

    “Here, let me take that for you,” Stanton offered, gesturing to her pack. “You must be tired after traveling.”

    Before Ariana could respond, Mia interjected with a sly grin. “So, Ariana, where are you headed next?”

    Ariana hesitated, glancing at Cullen before answering. “Honestly… I’m not sure yet,” she admitted. “I came to Ferelden looking for a fresh start, and Cullen has been kind enough to help me find my way.”

    Mia tilted her head, her curiosity unabated. “A fresh start, huh?” she mused, her tone laced with meaning. “Sounds like there’s a story there.”

    “Mia,” Cullen said firmly, his voice cutting through the playful interrogation. He gave her a pointed look, though his tone remained light. “Let her breathe. She’s been on the road for weeks.”

    Marion clapped her hands together, redirecting the conversation. “Enough questions for now,” she said with a warm smile. “Come, sit. Dinner’s ready, and it won’t do to let good food go cold.”

    They all moved to the table, the atmosphere shifting to one of lively conversation and laughter. As the meal progressed, Ariana found herself relaxing, her initial nerves melting away under the warmth of the family’s welcome. Marion made a point to include her in every topic, subtly drawing her out without prying. Stanton, meanwhile, regaled them with stories of Cullen’s childhood, much to his embarrassment.

    By the time the plates were cleared, Ariana felt something she hadn’t expected—belonging. This family, with their easy affection and genuine kindness, had welcomed her as one of their own, even if only for a short while. And as she caught Cullen’s gaze across the table, the soft smile he gave her made her heart swell with a quiet hope she couldn’t quite name.

    ~~~

    After Cullen’s family insisted she take his room, Ariana had tried to argue, but no one—not even Cullen—would hear it. Marion’s firm but gentle insistence left no room for debate. “A guest should never sleep on the floor,” she’d said with a warm smile, ushering Ariana toward Cullen’s room while Cullen, slightly embarrassed, busied himself with helping Stanton clear the dishes.

    Over the next few days in Honnleath, a gentle rhythm developed. Cullen’s leave had been perfectly timed, as his father had been needing an extra set of hands to repair the fence that bordered their garden. Each morning, after breakfast, Cullen joined his father outside, the two of them working in the cool, quiet hours while the sun began its steady climb. Ariana often sat nearby with Marion and Rosalie, helping to mend clothing or prepare vegetables for the day’s meals. Despite the simplicity of these tasks, there was something grounding about the routine, a sense of stability that Ariana hadn’t realized she’d missed.

    After midday, when the work was done and the family had settled for a brief rest, Cullen and Ariana would set off on walks. He showed her every nook and cranny of the village, from the shaded groves where he’d played as a boy to the hidden trails that wound their way through the fields and hills. The scenery awed her; the land seemed to stretch endlessly in every direction, a patchwork of green and gold under the summer sun. To the west, the Frostback Mountains loomed, their jagged peaks a stark contrast to the gentle slopes of the Hinterlands to the east.

    One evening, as they sat on a weathered stone wall overlooking the village, the sky painted in hues of orange and pink, Ariana gazed at the distant mountains with a look of quiet wonder. “Growing up here seems… like it would be magical,” she said softly, her voice carrying a wistfulness that made Cullen’s chest tighten.

    He chuckled, though her words gave him pause. “I suppose it might have been,” he admitted, glancing at her. “To me, it was just… home. Normal. I never really thought of it as anything special.”

    She smiled, her gaze still fixed on the horizon. “It’s special,” she said, almost to herself. “I can see that now.”

    Cullen studied her as she spoke, the fading light casting a soft glow over her face. In Honnleath, she was different—more at ease, more herself. The tension he’d seen in her before, the constant vigilance, had melted away. Here, she was simply Ariana, free to laugh, to marvel at the world around her, to exist without fear. Watching her now, he thought of the stories she’d shared about her father and their time together, the joy she’d found in simpler moments. This was who she was meant to be.

    For a fleeting moment, the thought struck him again: What if she stayed? Honnleath was quiet, safe, far removed from the chaos of her past. His family had already taken to her—Marion doted on her like another daughter, and Rosalie had even asked Ariana to teach her how to braid her hair the way Ariana wore hers. If Ariana stayed, she could find peace here, a chance to build a life free from the weight of expectation.

    But the thought came with its own complications. He couldn’t ask her to stay—not like this. Their friendship was still so new, so fragile. Suggesting she remain might feel like an obligation, or worse, a claim. And what would his family think? Or hers? He sighed, forcing himself to let the thought drift away for now.

    “Cullen?” Her voice broke through his reverie, drawing his attention back to her. She was watching him curiously, her brow furrowed. “I thought I lost you there for a moment.”

    He smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry,” he said, his gaze flicking to the mountains. “I was just trying to see them the way you do—as if for the first time.” He looked back at her, his smile softening. “Maybe you’re right; perhaps it was magical. I guess it’s easy to take something for granted when you’ve seen it every day of your life.”

    Ariana’s smile widened, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. “Well, I think it’s magical,” she said, her tone teasing. “Even if you don’t.”

    He chuckled, standing and offering her a hand. “Come on,” he said. “We should head back before dinner. Mother won’t be happy if we let the food get cold.”

    She laughed, taking his hand as he helped her down from the wall. Her fingers lingered in his for a moment longer than she intended, and as they began walking back toward the village, she couldn’t help but wonder if there might be a way to stay here, in this quiet, beautiful place. To stay with him.

    By the time they reached the house, the familiar hum of conversation greeted them, the warm glow of candlelight spilling from the windows. Marion was already bustling around the kitchen, her laughter mingling with Stanton’s deep voice and the cheerful chatter of Rosalie and Branson. As Cullen opened the door and ushered Ariana inside, he felt a strange, quiet contentment settle over him. For now, everything felt right. And as they joined his family at the table, their smiles and laughter filling the room, he allowed himself to believe, if only for a moment, that it might stay that way.

    ~~~

    The next morning, after breakfast, Ariana stepped outside to sit on a bench in the yard. The early sunlight bathed the fields in a golden glow, and a soft breeze carried the scents of wildflowers and freshly turned earth. From where she sat, she could see Cullen working alongside his father, the two of them repairing a section of the fence. She let her thoughts drift, her gaze softening as she observed their easy camaraderie, the quiet understanding between father and son.

    She marveled at how natural it seemed—the bond Cullen had with his family. This is what it’s supposed to feel like, she thought wistfully, her chest tightening with a mixture of longing and sadness. Memories of her own father surfaced unbidden, his kind smile, his strong presence, the warmth he’d brought to even the coldest of Ostwick winters. Her heart ached for him, for the home she’d left behind.

    She tried to push the thoughts away, but they clung stubbornly, her eyes beginning to sting. She blinked rapidly, willing the tears to stay hidden, but they kept coming, spilling over despite her efforts. She was so absorbed in her emotions that she didn’t notice Marion approach until the older woman gently settled onto the bench beside her.

    “Are you alright, child?” Marion asked softly, her voice steady and comforting, like the sound of rain on a quiet evening.

    Ariana blinked, startled, and hastily wiped at her cheeks. “I’m fine,” she said quickly, forcing a practiced smile. “Just—lost in thought.” But her voice wavered, betraying her.

    Marion gave her a knowing look, one that immediately unraveled Ariana’s attempt at composure. “You don’t have to pretend with me,” Marion said gently. “I’ve lived long enough to know when someone is carrying more than they’re ready to share.” She paused, her gaze kind but perceptive. “Cullen didn’t tell us much about you, and that’s alright. But I can see you’re not a common traveler.” Her eyes drifted over Ariana’s hands, smooth and uncalloused, and the way she held herself with unconscious grace. “You haven’t been on the road for long, have you?”

    Ariana felt her cheeks flush. Marion’s observation was accurate, but there was no accusation in her tone, only curiosity and care. Ariana hesitated, unsure how much to reveal, but something about Marion’s presence felt safe, reassuring. “No,” she admitted quietly. “Not long at all.”

    Marion didn’t press further, waiting patiently until Ariana felt ready to continue. After a moment, Ariana let out a shaky breath. “I miss my father,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “He was… everything. My guide, my anchor. He always seemed to know what to do, no matter how difficult things became.” Her lips trembled as she spoke, but she pressed on, finding comfort in the act of sharing. “We’d spend hours together—training, reading, talking about the stars. He made me feel like anything was possible.”

    Marion listened intently, her expression softening as she placed a gentle hand over Ariana’s. “He sounds like a remarkable man,” she said warmly.

    “He is,” Ariana replied, her voice tinged with sorrow. “But the last time I saw him… he told me I had to leave. That it wasn’t safe for me to stay.” Her gaze dropped to her lap, her hands twisting nervously in her lap. “I didn’t want to go. But he insisted.” She took a deep, unsteady breath. “He looked so… tired that night. Like he was carrying the weight of the world. I’ve never seen him like that before.”

    Marion squeezed her hand gently, her heart aching for the young woman beside her. “It’s clear he loves you dearly,” she said softly. “Sometimes, the hardest thing we can do for those we love is let them go.”

    Ariana nodded, her throat tight with emotion. “I know,” she murmured. “But it doesn’t make it any easier.”

    Marion leaned closer, wrapping an arm around Ariana’s shoulders. “You’re carrying a lot,” she said gently. “But you’re stronger than you know. And whatever brought you here, know that you’re safe now.”

    Ariana’s eyes welled again, but this time, the tears were accompanied by a faint smile. “Thank you,” she said softly, her voice steadying.

    Her gaze drifted back to Cullen, who was working with focused determination, his sleeves rolled up and his brow furrowed in concentration. As if sensing her attention, he looked up, meeting her eyes across the yard. A small, shared smile passed between them, and for a moment, the weight on her chest seemed a little lighter.

    Marion followed her gaze, her own smile growing as she observed the unspoken connection between them. “He’s always been a good one, my Cullen,” she said, her voice tinged with pride. “Strong, loyal, but always with the softest heart.”

    Ariana’s cheeks warmed, and she looked away, her smile lingering. “He is,” she said quietly, the words carrying more meaning than she intended.

    Marion chuckled softly, patting her hand. “Whatever it is you’re looking for, Ariana, I hope you find it. And I hope you know that you’re welcome here as long as you need.”

    Ariana’s heart swelled with gratitude as she turned to Marion, her voice filled with quiet sincerity. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to thank you enough.”

    Marion smiled, her eyes twinkling with warmth. “You already have, my dear.”

    Marion felt her heart swell with happiness, seeing not only the light in Ariana’s eyes as she watched Cullen but also the way her son’s gaze softened in return. She could feel that whatever the two were to each other now, they were meant to be—destined to find their way to each other, whether they realized it yet or not.

    ~~~

    As the day went on, their routine flowed much as it had the past few days. That evening at dinner, Cullen and Ariana said their goodbyes to his family. They lingered at the table longer than usual, filling the room with warmth and laughter as they exchanged stories and memories. Ariana found herself swept up in the familial energy, marveling at the easy rhythm of their conversations and the genuine affection they shared.

    When the meal ended, Marion surprised Ariana with a small bundle of supplies—a loaf of fresh bread, some dried fruits, and a neatly folded scarf. “Something to remember us by,” she said with a kind smile, her eyes twinkling with a knowing warmth. Ariana couldn’t find the words to thank her and settled for an embrace, her heart swelling with gratitude.

    Cullen watched the exchange with a quiet smile, his chest tightening. He felt a flicker of something he couldn’t name—pride, perhaps, or a sense of belonging. Whatever it was, he knew this was a moment he would carry with him for a long time.

    At sunrise, they were both ready to leave. Cullen took one last look around his childhood home, letting the familiarity wash over him. It was a rare kind of peace, one he hadn’t felt in years. As he turned to Ariana, he saw her lingering near the gate, the morning light casting a golden glow over her figure. She glanced back at him with a smile, and together, they began their journey back to Redcliffe.

    The road stretched out before them, and the morning air was cool and crisp. Their conversation meandered easily, weaving between shared memories of the past few days and playful banter. Cullen recounted his time repairing the fence with his father, exaggerating his struggles to draw a laugh from Ariana.

    “I swear, I felt more sore after that than I ever have from training,” he admitted with a chuckle.

    Ariana stifled a laugh, her lips twitching as she teased, “Maybe you are not training hard enough. I thought Templars were supposed to be strong.”

    Feigning indignation, Cullen raised an eyebrow. “Oh, is that what you think? Perhaps you should train with me, Lady Trevelyan. I’d like to see you keep up.”

    She smirked, her tone playful. “Keep up? You would be the one struggling, Templar. Trust me.”

    Their exchange continued, laughter mingling with the rustling of leaves around them. When Cullen slipped and reminded her, “Well, I managed to catch you, after all,” he immediately winced, realizing the potential sting of his words.

    But Ariana’s smile never faltered. She shrugged, her eyes glinting with mischief. “I got sloppy. It won’t happen again, I promise,” she quipped, her smirk widening. “I’ve been training my skills longer than you’ve been in the Templar Order.”

    Cullen was intrigued, his curiosity piqued by her confidence. He remembered the way she had moved that day—quick, deliberate, and precise. “Is that a fact?” he mused aloud, stopping to face her. Bowing slightly, he extended his hand. “Would you care to put your skill to the test, Lady Trevelyan?”

    She laughed, catching his meaning. “Why, Ser Cullen, I fear I might have an unfair advantage over you. I would not want to claim victory on such grounds.”

    “What ‘unfair’ advantage could you possibly have, my lady?” he asked, joining her at her side again as they resumed walking.

    “Firstly, my daggers are in my pack, and you are not wearing armor,” she replied, matter-of-factly, giving him a playful smile. “And I was trained to dodge, not to wear armor.”

    Cullen’s hearty laugh filled the quiet morning air, and they carried on, bantering back and forth until the trees thinned, and they arrived at the same small clearing they had camped at before. It felt only natural to stop there for the night. Cullen set to work building a fire while Ariana prepared a small meal from the supplies she had packed.

    As the day wore on, they arrived at the same clearing they had camped in before. It felt natural to stop there for the night. Cullen set to work building a fire, the familiar task grounding him, while Ariana unpacked a simple meal from their supplies. They ate in companionable silence, the crackling of the fire a soothing backdrop to their shared stillness.

    Cullen stole a glance at her as she gazed into the flames, her face softened by the flickering light. There was a quiet strength in her—a resilience that fascinated him. She carried herself with the grace of nobility, but her spirit was untamed, unyielding. He wondered about the stories she hadn’t shared, the layers of her that still remained a mystery.

    Ariana, for her part, felt the weight of the road settling over her again. The last few days had been a reprieve, but now, as they journeyed back toward the uncertainty of her future, she felt the familiar restlessness creeping in. And yet, here, by this fire, with Cullen’s steady presence beside her, she felt an unexpected sense of peace. It wasn’t something she could explain, but it was there—a warmth that went beyond the fire, a quiet certainty that she wasn’t alone.

    As the fire burned low, Cullen leaned back as he gazed up at the stars. “You know,” he said quietly, breaking the silence, “I think you’re the first person I’ve met who really makes me see the world differently. I’ve lived in this part of Ferelden my whole life, and yet walking these roads with you, it’s like I’m seeing it all for the first time.”

    Ariana turned to him, her eyes searching his face. She saw the sincerity in his expression, the unspoken emotions that lingered in his words. Her heart swelled, and for the first time, she allowed herself to imagine—just for a moment—what it might mean to stay by his side.

    “Cullen,” she began, her voice soft, “you have no idea how much your kindness has meant to me. These past few days… Thank you.”

    Their eyes met, and in that moment, the world around them seemed to fade away, leaving only the quiet connection that had grown between them. Neither of them spoke again, but as the night stretched on, the silence was filled with the unspoken understanding that this—whatever it was—was only the beginning.