Tag: Riley

  • Chapter 84 – The Heartbreak of Wisdom

    27 Solace – 12 August 9:41

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    They resumed walking, the conversation flowing naturally once more.

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

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

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

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

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

    ~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    ~~~

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

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

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

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

    But still, the rumors bothered him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    Cullen raised an eyebrow. “Our wedding?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    It was the truth.

    ~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    ~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    ~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    ~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    “I—Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    ~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    ~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    “And?” Riley prompted, her gaze sharp.

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

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

    “And she agreed,” Cullen added, defensively.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    Cullen’s expression tightened. “Kirkwall.”

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

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

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

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

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

  • Chapter 83 – In the Shadow of Trouble

    19 – 26 Solace 9:41

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

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

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

    “Cullen!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    It wasn’t really a question.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    ~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    He wasn’t convinced. Not even close.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    ~~~

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

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

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

    “Commander?”

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

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

    Cullen blinked, momentarily taken aback. “Chess?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    “Very well. Prepare the board, Commander.”

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

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

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

    ~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    ~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    Perfect.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    ~~~

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

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

    “Let them wonder,” she murmured.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    ~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    ~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    ~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    To the Inquisition,

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

    D. Sutherland

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    Both women nodded, scribbling notes before gathering their papers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

    Ariana sighed dramatically. “I might not.”

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

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

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

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

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

  • Chapter 82 – The Weight of the Past

    6 – 18 Solace 9:41

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

    The war council meetings, however, remained the worst.

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

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

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

    Riley didn’t. Riley never did.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    Crestwood.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    Cullen straightened, his hands loosely clasped behind his back.

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

    Josephine and Leliana exchanged a glance before nodding their agreement.

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

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

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

    ~~~

    The wind was colder than Ariana remembered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    Varric chuckled. “Definitely bullshit.”

    Dorian perked up. “Now I am interested.”

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

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

    The group fell silent.

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

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

    Her jaw tightened. “I waited.”

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

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

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

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

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

    Dorian frowned. “Then why—?”

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

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

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

    Her fingers curled tighter around the reins.

    “I never would have met him.

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

    Dorian arched a brow. “Us?”

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

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

    Ariana didn’t answer.

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

    “Doesn’t matter,” Riley muttered.

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

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

    No one pushed further.

    ~~~

    Crestwood was a mess.

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

    The problem? They couldn’t get to it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    Back when she had thought she had time to wait.

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

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

    Ariana’s breath hitched.

    Caer Bronach.

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

    And now?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    Dorian gestured vaguely. “Something dignified.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    This time? That’s not happening.

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

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

    Pain.

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

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

    No time for pain. Not now.

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

    The chief shuddered, gurgled, and collapsed.

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

    Most chose to run.

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

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

    “You alright, Pup?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    Ariana arched a brow. “Oh?”

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

    Ariana tilted her head, considering.

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

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

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

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

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

    ~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    Cullen,

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

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

    Only minor injuries. Nothing to worry about.

    Love, Ari.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    ~~~

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

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

    The moment they saw him, all three froze.

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

    “Well, shit.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    Cullen didn’t wait.

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

    She was still.

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

    Ariana had always been difficult to slow down.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    She’s safe.

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

    ~~~

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

    He was awake.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    ~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    Nothing had been broken.

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

    The darkspawn hadn’t flooded Crestwood.

    The mayor had.

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

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

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

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

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

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

    Cullen.

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

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

    “Together.”

    ~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    And that wasn’t even the worst of it.

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

    Cullen looked down slightly, waiting.

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

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

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

    Cullen went still behind her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    His expression softened. “Some do.”

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

    ~~~

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

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

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

    For a long while, neither of them spoke.

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

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

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

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

    But she still needed her uncle.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    He was thinking about their wedding.

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

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

    Cullen blinked, startled out of his reverie.

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

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

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

    He wasn’t just thinking about their wedding.

    He was ready.

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

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

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

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

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

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

    ~~~

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

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

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

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

    She didn’t respond immediately.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    He knew better than to push her right now.

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

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

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

    She had said it so deliberately.

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

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

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

    He didn’t ask, not tonight.

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

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

    And he would find a way to help her.

    Even if she never asked him to.

  • Chapter 81 – An Inquisitor and a Wolf

    1 – 4 Solace 9:41

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    ~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    Ariana raised an eyebrow, her teasing smile widening. “Oh, so there is a war room matter? I suppose I shouldn’t feel too flattered, then.”

    Cullen shook his head, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in a reluctant smile. “It’s not that,” he said, his voice softer now. “You know I’d have come to find you regardless. I just… I couldn’t leave things as they were. Not after last night.”

    Her expression softened, and she reached up to brush her fingers lightly against his cheek. “I know,” she said gently. “And I’m glad you came to find me. Really.”

    His gaze searched hers for a moment before he nodded, his hand moving to rest over hers. “Just… promise me you’ll take it slow,” he said. “Whatever this is with Solas—whatever it is you’re trying to learn—don’t let it pull you too far away.”

    “I promise,” Ariana said, her voice steady and sincere. “You’re always my anchor, Cullen. You know that.”

    The warmth in his eyes deepened, and he leaned down to press a soft kiss to her forehead. “Alright,” he murmured. “Let’s go see Josephine, then. The Magister can’t wait forever.”

    Ariana laughed softly, letting him lead her toward the door. But as they walked, she couldn’t help but glance back at the battlements, the conversation with Solas still fresh in her mind. The pull of the unknown was as strong as ever—but so was her resolve to stay grounded in what mattered most.

    ~~~

    “Ah, Inquisitor, you’re here,” Josephine acknowledged as Ariana and Cullen entered her office. “Please follow me,” she said, turning briskly to lead them elsewhere.

    Ariana exchanged a glance with Cullen, her brow furrowed in confusion. His expression mirrored hers—a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. Without a word, they followed Josephine back out of her office and into the main hall.

    Ariana’s steps slowed as the group approached the throne. The weight of the massive chair seemed to grow heavier with each step closer, and she glanced nervously between Josephine and Cullen. The grandeur of it—its gilded frame and imposing presence—only added to her unease.

    “What are we doing here?” she asked cautiously, her voice tight with suspicion. She had always hated that thing. If it were up to her, there wouldn’t even be a throne here—she’d have replaced it with a simple table and chairs, something practical and unassuming.

    “Impressive, is it not?” Josephine motioned to the throne with a graceful wave of her hand. “Fit for a leader. Meant to show influence—and the burden of it. It is where the Inquisition will sit in judgment. Where you will sit in judgment.”

    Ariana’s stomach dropped. She turned sharply to Cullen, her hazel-green eyes wide with desperation, silently pleading for him to make sense of this.

    “I’m sorry… what?” Ariana said, her voice barely above a whisper.

    Cullen stepped forward, his protective instincts kicking in. “Josephine, what are you talking about? Who will she be judging, exactly?”

    Josephine’s gaze shifted between them, her composed demeanor faltering slightly, though she quickly masked it with a polite smile. “Those who have done wrong. You will know of them, at the very least,” she explained, her tone calm and matter-of-fact. Her focus returned to Ariana. “All this presumes they have survived their initial encounter with you, of course.”

    Ariana’s breath hitched. Her hands balled into fists at her sides as she stared at Josephine in disbelief. Judgment? She wants me to pass judgment on people?

    She looked back at Cullen, silently begging him to fix this.

    Sensing her distress, Cullen interjected. “Why aren’t we simply sending them back for their own governments to handle?”

    Josephine tilted her head slightly, as though the question were unexpected. “The Inquisition’s sovereignty is derived from the allies who validate it,” she began, her tone still maddeningly calm. Her gaze shifted back to Ariana. “You are both empowered and bound. Justice has many tools. If their application is clever, execution may even seem merciful by comparison.”

    Ariana closed her eyes, rubbing her temples as she tried to steady her breathing. The room felt stifling. Josephine’s words rang in her ears, cold and clinical, like this was just another strategy in her endless calculations. Execution? Mercy? No. This isn’t what I’m here for.

    “And you’re telling me this now because…?” she asked, her voice tight with frustration.

    “Magister Alexius will be the first of such prisoners under the Inquisition’s sovereignty to judge,” Josephine replied smoothly. She paused, as if waiting for Ariana to respond, but when she didn’t, Josephine’s gaze shifted back to Cullen. “Ferelden has given him to us as acknowledgment of your aid.”

    “Then send a letter to Alistair,” Ariana snapped, her voice sharp. “I appreciate him giving Alexius to us, but he can deal with him. I’m sure Arl Teagan won’t mind judging him.”

    Before Josephine could respond, Ariana turned on her heel and walked away. Her footsteps echoed in the silent hall as she left the throne and the suffocating expectations that came with it behind.

    She barely registered the walk back to her quarters, her thoughts spinning faster than she could keep up with. Judgment. A throne. Execution. The words repeated like a chant in her mind, each one striking like a hammer against stone.

    As she stepped into her quarters, her breaths came shorter and shallower. She tried to inhale deeply, but her chest felt too tight. The room blurred slightly as she stumbled toward the couch. Collapsing to her knees, she leaned against it, her head falling forward into her hands.

    I didn’t agree to this. I didn’t agree to any of this.

    She didn’t hear Cullen enter until his voice cut through her spiraling thoughts. “Ari,” he said softly, kneeling beside her. “Are you alright?”

    She looked up at him, her hazel-green eyes glassy with unshed tears. “I… no… I’m not,” she snapped, her voice breaking. “I didn’t agree to this, Cullen.”

    He reached for her hand, his touch gentle but grounding. “I know,” he said softly. “I know you didn’t.”

    Her shoulders trembled as she shook her head, her voice rising. “I’m not… this. I’m not a leader or a judge. I’m not…” She trailed off, her breaths coming in quick, uneven gasps.

    “You’re just Wolf,” Cullen finished for her, his voice calm and steady. “I know.”

    She laughed bitterly, the sound catching in her throat. “I don’t want a throne. I don’t want to sit in judgment. That’s not what I signed up for. I’m just… I’m just a mercenary. That’s all I’ve ever been.”

    Cullen’s hand tightened around hers, his other hand brushing against her cheek. “You’re so much more than that, Ari,” he said gently. “You’ve always been more than that. But I understand why this feels like too much.”

    Her eyes searched his, desperate for reassurance. “I can’t do this, Cullen,” she whispered. “I can fight. I can lead troops. I can protect people. But sitting on a throne, passing judgment? That’s not me.”

    Cullen hesitated for a moment, his brow furrowed. “Then let me help,” he said finally. “You don’t have to carry this alone. I’ll take on whatever I can. If there’s a way to share the burden, I’ll find it.”

    She closed her eyes, her forehead pressing against his shoulder as the tension in her body ebbed away, replaced by a fragile but growing resolve. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice steadier now. “For not letting me run.”

    Cullen’s arms encircled her fully, holding her close as he rested his chin against her hair. “You can run, Ari,” he murmured. “But I’ll always catch you.”

    A soft laugh escaped her, muffled against his chest. “That’s not very reassuring, you know.”

    He smiled faintly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Then let me rephrase: I’ll always stand beside you.”

    For a long moment, they stayed like that, wrapped in each other’s presence as the storm inside her began to calm. Finally, Ariana pulled back, her gaze meeting his. “I’ll do it,” she said, her voice firmer now. “But only because I know you’ll be there.”

    “Always,” Cullen replied, his tone steady and certain.

    And as they stood, their hands still clasped, Ariana felt a flicker of strength she hadn’t known she possessed. It wasn’t the throne that defined her—it was the people around her. And with Cullen by her side, she knew she could face whatever judgment awaited.

    ~~~

    Ariana lingered near the fireplace in the main hall after the judgment, staring into the flickering flames. She could still hear Alexius’ resigned voice echoing in her ears.

    “No execution? Very well.”

    The weight of the throne—the literal and metaphorical—still pressed heavily on her, and even now, she found herself rubbing the back of her neck as if she could physically ease the tension it brought. She felt a presence beside her before the voice spoke.

    “You handled it well, you know,” Dorian said, his tone carefully neutral.

    Ariana glanced at him, her hazel-green eyes shadowed. “Did I?”

    Dorian gave a small shrug, his lips curling into a faint smile. “You didn’t kill him, so I’d call it a success.”

    Her gaze returned to the fire, her voice quieter. “He was your mentor. I thought you’d have more to say.”

    “I do,” Dorian admitted, stepping closer to her. “You gave him a purpose again—research, magic. That’s where Alexius was always happiest. Where he was… before everything fell apart.” He hesitated, his voice growing softer. “I wonder if, someday, he might even speak to me again. It’s been a long time since we’ve truly talked.”

    Ariana’s lips pressed into a thin line. “You’re not angry with me?”

    Dorian shook his head. “Angry? No. Relieved, perhaps. Grateful. You gave him mercy, something he didn’t earn but desperately needed. Thank you, truly.” His usual sharp wit softened into sincerity, and the gratitude in his voice was unmistakable.

    Ariana allowed herself a faint smile. “I wasn’t sure if it was the right call. Still not sure.”

    “Of course you’re not,” Dorian said, his tone light but edged with honesty. “But that’s exactly why it was the right call. You’re not a tyrant, Ariana. You’re not someone who sits on that throne with a quick hand or a cold heart. You don’t want this power—and that’s why you’re the one who should wield it.”

    She blinked, his words unexpectedly echoing Cullen’s earlier reassurances. “You sound like Cullen.”

    “Then he must be as wise as he is stubborn,” Dorian quipped, though his smile softened. “But it’s true, you know. Your hesitation, your discomfort—it means you’re thinking, weighing your choices. That throne needs someone who doesn’t take it for granted, who doesn’t revel in its power. Someone like you.”

    Ariana’s gaze dropped to the floor, her fingers fidgeting at her sides. “It doesn’t feel that way. I don’t want a throne, Dorian. I never asked for this. Fighting? I can do that. Sitting in judgment?” She shook her head, her voice lowering. “That’s not who I am.”

    Dorian studied her for a moment, his expression thoughtful. Then, with a graceful flourish, he offered her his arm. “Well, my darling Inquisitor, perhaps it’s time you reminded yourself who you are. Shall we head to the tavern? I find nothing calms existential dread quite like a good bottle of wine.”

    Ariana blinked at him, startled into a soft laugh. “That I can do.”

    “Of course you can, my dear. We’re black sheep after all,” he replied, his smile widening. “Come on. I’ll even let you buy the first round.”

    She hesitated for only a moment before taking his arm, grateful for the reprieve he offered. As they walked toward the doors, Dorian turned his head and called back over his shoulder.

    “Oh, Commander, care to join us?” he asked, his voice carrying easily across the hall. “I think your betrothed could use your… steadying presence.”

    Cullen, who had been quietly observing from a distance, straightened slightly, his brow furrowing with faint concern. “Is she alright?”

    “She’s with me,” Dorian replied smoothly. “Of course she’s alright. But, alas, I’m not the man she has chosen to marry.”

    Ariana rolled her eyes, though her smile betrayed her amusement. “Stop badgering him, Dorian.”

    “I would never,” Dorian said, mock-offended. “Now, shall we?”

    Cullen hesitated for only a moment before nodding, stepping forward to join them. As the three of them left the hall together, Ariana felt some of the weight lift from her shoulders. It wasn’t gone—not entirely—but with them by her side, it felt just a little easier to carry.

    ~~~

    Ariana lay awake, staring at the faint light creeping through the curtains. The world was still and quiet, the faint sounds of the wind brushing against the stone walls the only indication that dawn wasn’t far off. But sleep refused to come. Her thoughts were restless, skipping like stones across the surface of her mind.

    She turned her head toward Cullen, who lay beside her, his breathing deep and even. The sight of him so peaceful brought a small smile to her lips. But that smile quickly turned mischievous as an idea took shape.

    Rolling onto her side, she reached out and gently poked his shoulder. “Cullen,” she whispered, her voice soft but insistent. When he didn’t stir, she poked him again, a little harder this time. “Cullen.”

    Still no response. Her grin widened as she leaned closer, pressing a featherlight kiss to his cheek, then another to his temple. “Commander,” she murmured playfully, the title carrying a singsong lilt. “Time to wake up.”

    Cullen shifted slightly, letting out a soft, sleepy groan but otherwise remaining stubbornly still.

    Ariana huffed, sitting up slightly. Her fingers danced over his ribs in a teasing attempt at tickling him. “You promised…”

    That earned her a reaction. Cullen groaned again, this time reaching out to grab her wrists, stopping her playful assault. His eyes cracked open, bleary and golden in the dim light, as he squinted up at her. “Ari,” he muttered, his voice rough with sleep. “What are you doing?”

    “I’m waking you up,” she replied with a grin, leaning down until her face was inches from his. “You’ve slept long enough.”

    “It’s barely dawn,” he mumbled, releasing her hands and rubbing a hand over his face. “Why are you even awake?”

    She shrugged, flopping onto her side next to him. “I couldn’t sleep.”

    “Clearly,” he muttered, his tone dry but affectionate. He turned his head to look at her, his brow furrowed. “Is something wrong?”

    “Nothing,” Ariana said cheerfully, propping herself up on her elbow. “I just thought it’d be fun to train. Come on, Cullen. Let’s go to the courtyard.”

    “Fun,” he repeated flatly, his head sinking back into the pillow. “It’s too early for ‘fun,’ Ari.”

    Ariana’s grin widened. “But not too early to train. You could learn a lot from me.”

    Cullen cracked one eye open, giving her a skeptical look. “Such as?”

    “Well, for starters,” she began, sitting up straighter, “you could learn how to fight in the dark.”

    Cullen blinked, looking at her as though she’d just suggested he take up juggling. “Why would I need to fight in the dark?”

    Ariana gasped, clutching her chest in mock horror. “You mean to tell me Templars don’t train in the dark? What do you do if you’re ambushed at night?”

    “We light a torch,” Cullen replied dryly, his expression deadpan.

    She stared at him for a moment before shaking her head. “Amateurs. Next you’ll tell me you don’t climb trees?”

    His brow furrowed in confusion. “Trees?”

    “Yes, trees,” Ariana said, her tone serious. “You do learn that sometimes you might need to climb a tree, with nothing but a dagger? Ambushes aren’t won from the ground.” The words left her mouth before she could stop them, and she immediately winced. Her expression faltered for a brief moment, her mind flashing to Krieger, but she quickly shook it off and plastered on a smile.

    Ariana let out an exaggerated sigh, leaning over him and placing a trail of soft kisses along his jawline. “Come on, Commander,” she murmured, her tone dripping with mock sweetness. “I’m not giving up, you know,” she warned, her grin mischievous. She straddled him, sitting on his waist as her hands pressed against his chest. “You promised if I wanted my Commander training with me, you’d be there…”

    His hands moved to her wrists again, holding them in place as his eyes finally opened fully. There was a glint of amusement in his tired gaze as he studied her. “Maker’s breath, you’re relentless.”

    “Only because I know you can’t resist me,” she teased, leaning down until their noses nearly touched.

    Cullen sighed, his lips twitching upward in a faint smile. “Alright, alright. I’m up.”

    “Really?” Ariana’s face lit up with triumphant excitement.

    “Yes,” he said, shifting to sit up and guide her off him. “But if I’m doing this, you’d better be ready to work.”

    “Oh, I’m always ready,” she shot back, hopping off the bed and stretching her arms over her head.

    Cullen swung his legs over the side of the bed, running a hand through his tousled hair as he watched her with a mix of fondness and exasperation. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone so determined to ruin a good night’s sleep.”

    “You’ll thank me later,” Ariana quipped, grabbing his hand and tugging him toward the door. “Come on, Commander. The courtyard’s waiting.”

    Cullen allowed himself to be pulled along, shaking his head with a soft laugh. “Maker help me, Ari. You’re insufferable.”

    “And yet you still want to marry me,” she tossed over her shoulder, her grin widening.

    “Unfortunately, I do,” he admitted, his voice laced with affection as they made their way out of the room and toward the courtyard.

    ~~~

    By the time Cullen and Ariana reached the courtyard, the soft glow of dawn was creeping over Skyhold, casting long shadows across the stone. Cullen’s initial fatigue faded when he noticed Michael and Linnea already sparring in the center. Michael’s strikes were heavy, methodical, while Linnea danced out of his reach, her parries quick and precise.

    Cullen slowed his steps, taking in the scene, while Ariana’s pace remained light and eager. Her energy always seemed endless—how she could be so lively before dawn baffled him.

    “Well, looks like we’re late,” Ariana quipped, her voice light with amusement. She glanced at Linnea, catching her eye and grinning.

    Linnea lowered her sword, her sharp eyes narrowing playfully at the sight of Ariana. “Or just in time,” she called out. “Care to join us?”

    Ariana exchanged a mischievous look with Linnea, her grin widening. “How about a team match? You and me against them.” She jerked her head toward Michael and Cullen.

    Michael raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. “You think you can take us?”

    “I know we can take you,” Ariana shot back, her tone dripping with mock confidence.

    Ariana exchanged a glance with Cullen, her grin widening before turning back to Linnea. “You’ll love this,” she said, her voice dripping with mock alarm. “Apparently, Templars don’t train in the dark. Or climb trees.”

    Linnea blinked in shock, her expression quickly morphing into mock horror. “Wait, what?” She turned to Cullen and Michael, incredulous.

    Cullen sighed, rubbing his hand over his face. He already didn’t like where this was going. “Why would we train in the dark?”

    Linnea let out a gasp of genuine disbelief, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “Because ambushes don’t wait for daylight!”

    Michael frowned, his voice matter-of-fact. “If it’s dark, you light a torch.”

    Linnea froze, staring at him like he’d just declared war on common sense. “With what hand? Do you give up the shield or the sword? Or do you just hope your enemies politely wait while you find your flint and start a campfire?”

    Cullen groaned internally. Maker, give me patience.

    Ariana doubled over in laughter, leaning against Linnea for support. “You see? This is why they’re hopeless.”

    “Clearly,” Linnea agreed, shaking her head in mock dismay. “We’re going to have to fix this.”

    “How exactly do you propose doing that?” Cullen asked dryly, crossing his arms.

    Linnea’s grin turned sly as she exchanged a knowing glance with Ariana. “Maybe this is an unfair match. Maybe we should switch pairs.”

    The two women turned to Cullen and Michael, their expressions unreadable. For a moment, Cullen almost thought they were serious—until they both shook their heads in unison.

    “No,” Ariana said, smirking. “I think we’re good.”

    Linnea clapped her on the shoulder. “Agreed. No switching. Feel free to light a torch.”

    Michael groaned. “Why do I put up with this?”

    “Because you love me,” Linnea shot back before immediately realizing what she’d said. Her face went pale as she turned to Ariana in alarm. “Uh… Wolf, I—”

    Cullen’s eyebrows rose slightly, and his gaze darted to Ariana, who stared at Linnea for a long moment before her lips twitched into a smirk.

    “Linnea,” Ariana interrupted, staring at her with mock incredulity. “That’s my brother.”

    “I can explain!” Linnea blurted, her voice rising.

    But Ariana burst out laughing, waving a hand as though dismissing the whole thing. “Maker, you two have been so bad at hiding this. Honestly, I don’t even know why you were trying.”

    Michael blinked in surprise. “You knew?”

    Before Ariana could answer, Riley’s voice cut through the courtyard. “Oh, Andraste’s arse, all the Rangers know. Wolf is right—you two are terrible at subtlety. Wolf was more successful at hiding Cullen for years.”

    Cullen groaned softly. “Must we bring me into this?”

    Riley strolled up to stand next to Ariana, who leaned casually against her. “Did you know,” Ariana said, turning to Riley, “that Templars don’t train in the dark?”

    Riley’s eyebrows shot up. “Wait, are you telling me all we needed to do in Kirkwall was ambush them at night?”

    “Or from above,” Linnea added. “They don’t climb trees either.”

    Riley groaned. “Maker’s breath… Wolf, why didn’t you tell us that sooner?”

    “I didn’t know!” Ariana protested, gesturing at Linnea. “Linnea is the spymaster.”

    Linnea pointed accusingly at Ariana. “You were the one involved with the Knight-Captain of Kirkwall. And your brother’s a Templar!”

    Cullen pinched the bridge of his nose. “Are the three of you done? Or can I go back to bed?”

    Ariana turned to Riley and Linnea, her grin turning wicked. She rolled out her neck, an unmistakable spark of mischief lighting her hazel-green eyes.

    “Well, shit,” Riley muttered, stepping back slightly. “Now we’re all in trouble. Are we helping them, Wolf?”

    “No,” Ariana replied, her grin widening. “Riley’s with me. Linnea can help my brother.” She raised an eyebrow at Linnea. “Since she’s apparently in love with him.”

    Linnea groaned, throwing up her hands. “That’s not fair! Why do I have to be on the losing team?”

    “Excuse me?” Michael interjected, clearly offended.

    Linnea turned to him, exasperated. “I’m not sparring against Wolf when she looks like that. And Wolf and Riley? Not a fair match.”

    Cullen cleared his throat, stepping forward. “It’s sparring, Linnea. You’ll be fine.”

    “What do you want, Linnea? Do you want to get Lamberto?” Ariana asked.

    “Did I hear my name?” Lamberto’s familiar voice interrupted from the path behind them. He appeared alongside Valentina.

    “Sparring match. We’re trying to even out the odds,” Ariana explained. “Riley is with me.”

    “And Cullen challenged Wolf,” Riley added.

    “Oh, then I’m only joining if I get to stay with Wolf,” Lamberto said, strolling up beside them.

    “Ugh,” Valentina grunted. “Are you saying I have to go to the losing team?” she asked, defeated.

    “Excuse me!” Michael interjected. “Nothing says we’ll lose. Cullen, Linnea, and I can handle Ariana just fine.”

    Almost in unison, Linnea, Riley, Lamberto, Valentina, and Ariana tilted their heads and exchanged confused glances.

    Michael crossed his arms, smirking. “Besides, Cullen has beat Ariana before, we just have to take Riley.”

    The courtyard fell silent. Cullen’s chest tightened as the words hung in the air. His mind flashed back to Kirkwall—the chaos, the blood, Ariana on her knees unable to fight anymore. His gaze darted to Ariana, expecting anger or hurt. Instead, her expression was unreadable—calm, except for the sharp glint in her eye.

    She smirked, setting aside two training swords. “Well, that does it. Clearly, Linnea has taught you nothing.”

    “Dammit,” Valentina muttered loudly.

    “I think you three should go help them,” Riley said finally, her knowing tone unmistakable.

    With that, Linnea, Lamberto, and Valentina walked over to Cullen and Michael, looking defeated already.

    “You really need to teach your boyfriend to stop talking,” Valentina muttered as she joined them, clearly resigned to the chaos.

    Linnea huffed. “How was I supposed to know he’d be this reckless? He’s her brother! He should know better!” she said as she shot Michael a playful glare that said she wasn’t done with him.

    Cullen sighed, shaking his head as the banter continued, but a small smile tugged at his lips. Even amidst the chaos, Ariana had a way of drawing everyone in, of making even the most mundane mornings feel alive.

    By the time the sparring match was over, Ariana had taken down most of them. She had faced three opponents at once while Riley dealt with the remaining two.

    “So… breakfast?” Ariana asked triumphantly, stretching her neck. “Isabel should have something ready.”

    She wrapped an arm around Linnea’s shoulders, her grin playful. “So… love? We going to talk about this?”

    Linnea groaned, throwing her head back dramatically. “I’m not saying I’ll deny it, but you don’t have to announce it to Skyhold, Wolf.”

    “I didn’t announce it,” Ariana shot back, laughing. “You did.”

    As they walked to the kitchen, Cullen couldn’t help but admire the woman he loved. Watching her like this, in her element, it was as if he were seeing her fully for the first time. The White Wolf—the one shaped by the Blight, the one who founded the Silver Rangers, the one who had spent her life helping those who could not help themselves. She had always been this person, even back in Kirkwall, but he had been too blinded by duty, by the weight of the Order, to truly see her.

    A small sense of guilt tugged at his chest. What if he had understood her sooner? What if he had been willing to listen—to truly see her when they stood on opposite sides of that war-torn city? Could they have worked together? Could they have stopped the war before it started?

    The thought was a bitter one, but he pushed it aside. He could not change the past, but he could make damn sure he didn’t waste any more time. He was more determined than ever to know everything about her—the woman, the warrior, the legend she had become. Because the more he learned, the more he realized: she was extraordinary.

    And he had never admired anyone more.

  • Chapter 80 – Anchor in the Storm

    Cullen leaned against the headboard of their quarters, his arms wrapped loosely around Ariana, who sat nestled between his legs. Her warmth, the subtle weight of her against his chest, was grounding in a way he hadn’t felt in what seemed like years. His fingers brushed absentmindedly against her arm as he gazed toward the balcony, watching the pale light of midmorning dance across the Frostbacks. For once, the endless stream of worries that usually crowded his thoughts was distant. Quiet.

    She sighed contentedly, her fingers tracing idle patterns on his arm, and he couldn’t help the faint smile tugging at his lips. How is it that she can make everything feel so still, so simple?

    “So,” he said softly, breaking the comfortable silence, “were you just trying to distract me earlier?”

    Ariana tilted her head back, her hazel-green eyes alight with amusement. “Maybe I was distracting both of us,” she replied, her smile lazy but teasing.

    His chuckle rumbled in his chest as he tightened his hold on her, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. “I suppose I can’t argue with the results,” he murmured, his voice laced with affection.

    For a time, they lapsed into quiet again, their breathing in sync as they sat entwined. But as Cullen’s mind wandered, a thought—unbidden and strangely persistent—began to surface. He frowned slightly, unsure of why it had returned to him now, but the memory refused to fade. Finally, he gave voice to it.

    “Can I ask you something?” he ventured, his tone tentative.

    Ariana twisted slightly to glance over her shoulder, her curiosity evident in her raised brow. “Anything,” she said simply, her smile reassuring.

    Cullen hesitated, his fingers brushing absently over her hand. “Back in Kirkwall,” he began slowly, “were you… responsible for all the intercepted mage transports?”

    Ariana blinked, startled, before a laugh escaped her lips. “That’s what you’re thinking about right now?” she asked incredulously, though her tone was light. “Are you asking if I, personally, was responsible or if the Rangers were responsible?”

    “Both?” Cullen replied, his lips quirking slightly as he met her gaze.

    She shifted, sliding lower against his chest as her head rested on his shoulder. “I suppose without seeing all the reports you had, I can only guess. But yes, the Rangers were responsible for most of them. As for me… I wasn’t personally involved in all of them. Only the ones I deemed riskier.”

    His brow furrowed slightly at that. “Riskier how?”

    Ariana’s gaze drifted toward the ceiling, her expression contemplative. “Larger groups. Stronger escorts. Or… when I was particularly angry,” she admitted, a faint smirk tugging at her lips.

    “Angry?” Cullen pressed gently, sensing a deeper story behind her words.

    She sighed, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the edge of his bracer. “Do you remember the day you caught me and Valentina leaving the warehouse in Lowtown?”

    Cullen stilled, the memory coming to him with startling clarity. He remembered the way she had stumbled into him, the tension in her voice when she explained her presence, and the way her words—and his—had left a chasm between them. “I remember,” he said quietly. “I told you… I just wished that whatever it was didn’t have to live in the space between us.”

    Ariana nodded, a faint, bittersweet smile playing on her lips. “Yes, that day. I was so angry after that. Not at you,” she added quickly, tilting her head to look at him. “Never at you. I was angry at myself for being careless. For having to hide. For being… less than what I should have been.”

    Cullen frowned. “Less?”

    “I’d spent months recovering after the Qunari uprising,” she explained, her voice soft but steady. “Months of idleness, of feeling like I was losing everything that made me… me. The White Wolf had become a ghost, a shadow. That day… that day I realized I wasn’t ready to let her fade into legend. I needed to prove to myself that she was still alive.”

    His arms tightened around her instinctively, his lips brushing her temple. “So, you did intercept the transport from Starkhaven?”

    She nodded again. “It was the first time I stepped into the field again after the uprising. I wasn’t sure if I was still capable. But by the end of it… I knew. The White Wolf wasn’t gone. She was just waiting.”

    Cullen was silent for a moment, his heart heavy with both admiration and regret. “I’m sorry,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

    “For what?” she asked, turning slightly to face him, her brow furrowed.

    “For everything I said. For every time I doubted you.” His gaze searched hers, raw with emotion. “For not being the man you needed me to be.”

    Ariana’s expression softened as she cupped his face in her hands. “You were always exactly the man I needed,” she said firmly, her voice steady. “You were in an impossible position, Cullen. We both were.”

    He leaned into her touch, his eyes closing briefly. When he opened them, they were drawn to her hand as it traced the faint scar above his lip. Her fingers lingered there, her eyes filled with a quiet intensity.

    “When did this happen?” she asked softly.

    “During the fight against Meredith,” he replied, his voice tinged with both pride and sorrow. “She… wasn’t holding back.”

    Ariana’s gaze darted to the horizon, her expression distant as memories of that night surfaced. “I don’t remember,” she admitted, her voice barely audible. “I saw you from across the courtyard, but… I was already—”

    “Bleeding,” Cullen finished for her, his tone gentle but firm. “Michael was practically carrying you out by the end. Ari, you’d lost so much blood by then, it’s no wonder you don’t remember.”

    Her lips parted as if to protest, but she closed them again, her eyes dropping to her lap. Cullen reached up, covering her hand with his own. “It wasn’t your fault,” he said quietly, his voice filled with conviction. “None of it was.”

    Ariana met his gaze, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. Slowly, she nodded, her fingers intertwining with his. “I know,” she said, her voice steady despite the emotion behind it. “And neither was it yours.”

    Cullen let out a shaky breath, leaning forward to press a kiss to her forehead. “Then let’s stop carrying it,” he murmured, his words a quiet plea.

    She smiled faintly, her arms slipping around his neck as she rested her forehead against his. “Together?” she asked softly.

    “Always,” he replied, his voice steady and sure.

    And in that moment, the weight of Kirkwall felt just a little lighter.

    ~~~

    Cullen stepped into the war room, Ariana just a step behind him, to find Leliana, Josephine, and Riley gathered around the table. Maps and reports were scattered across its surface, but none of them seemed particularly focused. Leliana wore her usual air of calm detachment, but there was a faint smirk tugging at her lips. Josephine, on the other hand, looked positively animated, her hands moving as she leaned toward Riley, who lounged back in her chair, grinning like she’d just shared the most scandalous bit of news.

    For a moment, Cullen felt out of place—like he’d walked into the middle of a conversation he wasn’t meant to overhear. But Ariana’s amused huff beside him pulled him out of his thoughts.

    “Am I interrupting something?” Ariana asked, her tone playful as she folded her arms and raised an eyebrow. “Or should I come back later when you’ve solved the mystery of Skyhold’s social intrigues?”

    Josephine straightened in her chair, a faint blush creeping to her cheeks. “Inquisitor, we were simply—”

    “Gossiping,” Riley cut in, unapologetic. “And quite thoroughly, I might add.”

    Ariana snorted, leaning against the edge of the table. “And here I thought the Inquisition’s greatest minds were hard at work. Let me guess—this is about the stablehand and the cook?”

    Riley grinned, her expression almost predatory. “No, but did you hear about Hawke and Iron Bull?”

    Ariana laughed, the sound bright and unabashed. “Oh, that’s so fake. Hawke would never cheat on Fenris. Have you seen Fenris? That is one gorgeous elf. And Hawke is absolutely in love with him.”

    Cullen’s lips twitched in a faint smile as he watched her, her energy infectious even when she was indulging in nonsense. He shook his head slightly, leaning against the wall.

    “Well,” Ariana continued, her grin widening, “I did hear about Flissa and Bull, though…”

    Josephine gasped softly, clearly delighted. “I hadn’t heard that one!”

    Riley waved a hand dismissively. “That’s old news. What’s really interesting is what Wolf just said—Bull has a thing for redheads. He’s just waiting for Leliana to notice him.”

    Leliana raised an eyebrow, her tone utterly deadpan. “How fortunate for him that I’m far too busy running a spy network to entertain such notions.”

    Ariana smirked, leaning closer to Riley as if sharing a secret. “You’d better be careful, Leliana. He might write you a poem.”

    “Iron Bull?” Josephine blinked. “A poem?”

    “Who’s to say he doesn’t have a secret romantic side?” Riley teased. “For all we know, the man writes sonnets in his spare time.”

    “I’ll take my chances,” Leliana replied dryly, though her faint smile suggested she wasn’t entirely immune to the humor.

    Josephine suddenly perked up. “Oh, speaking of surprises, I heard from Dorian that Cassandra and Varric are an item.”

    Ariana burst out laughing, holding her stomach as she doubled over slightly. “Oh, no. That one’s definitely not true. But—” she paused, a mischievous glint in her eyes, “—Dorian did ask them both about it last time we were in the Storm Coast. I thought Cassandra might throw him into the sea.”

    Cullen pinched the bridge of his nose, though his smile lingered. “Maker’s breath,” he muttered under his breath, finally cutting through the chatter. “Should I just come back later? Or do we have an Inquisition to run?”

    The group stilled for a moment before Riley grinned wider. “Wait, there’s one more rumor you might be interested in, Commander.”

    Cullen gave her a wary look. “What rumor?”

    Riley leaned back in her chair, clearly savoring the moment. “Word’s spreading outside Skyhold, all the way to Lydes and Denerim. Rangers are reporting that the Commander of the Inquisition proposed to the Inquisitor.”

    Ariana laughed first, the sound quickly joined by Riley and even Leliana. Josephine covered her mouth with her hand, giggling softly.

    Cullen sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Of course they are,” he said, though the faint warmth in his cheeks betrayed his exasperation. He wasn’t truly upset—how could he be? Everyone knew Ariana was his. He glanced at her, catching the way her eyes sparkled with amusement, and his heart softened despite himself.

    “Well,” Ariana teased, nudging his arm, “at least they got that one right.”

    Cullen shook his head, but he couldn’t suppress the small, almost shy smile tugging at his lips. “Shall we get started now, or are there more rumors I need to be aware of?”

    “Not yet,” Riley quipped, grinning. “But give it time, Commander. Give it time.”

    Cullen leaned against the edge of the war table, watching Ariana as she deftly worked through the morning’s tasks. The scene before him was familiar: maps strewn across the table, markers denoting troop movements and known threats, the hum of purposeful conversation filling the air. But his focus was on her—always on her.

    “Alright, let’s get to it before the Commander decides to run the Inquisition by himself…” Ariana teased, her voice carrying an easy warmth that made the room feel lighter. She paused, tilting her head with exaggerated thought. “On second thought… that’s not the worst idea.”

    Her smirk was infuriating and infectious all at once, drawing laughter from Leliana, Josephine, and Riley. Cullen sighed, shaking his head and resisting the urge to rise to her bait. “Andraste grant me patience…” he muttered, though the faint curve of his lips betrayed his amusement. He caught Ariana’s gaze, and the look she gave him—playful, confident, utterly maddening—made him smile despite himself.

    Still, he was here for a purpose. Straightening, he cleared his throat. “I believe I may have an update on the red templars you encountered.”

    Ariana raised a brow, intrigued. “Already? That was fast.”

    “It coincided with a search I had already ordered,” Cullen explained, keeping his tone measured. “It appears they’re smuggling red lyrium to Therinfal Redoubt.”

    Her expression sharpened, her focus narrowing like a blade. “What are you thinking?”

    “We find where the caravans come from and cut their supply,” he replied, his tone gaining an edge. “It should help to weaken them.”

    “Alright, you got a starting point for me?” she asked.

    That was the question Cullen had been dreading. He hesitated for the briefest moment before answering. “Signs are pointing to the Emerald Graves, or somewhere along that route.”

    She nodded thoughtfully, turning to Riley. “Do we have anyone out that way?”

    Riley stepped closer to the map, her brow furrowed in thought. “Yes, we do—well, sort of. The Rangers I mentioned in Lydes. We could redirect them down towards the Emerald Graves before they head home.”

    Ariana nodded, her decision swift. “Do it. Scouting only. If they can narrow it down for me, I’ll go handle it.”

    Cullen felt his stomach tighten. Maker help me. He wanted this investigation. He wanted to see the red templars weakened. But what he didn’t want was for Ariana to handle it personally. Yet he knew better than to argue. She wouldn’t listen, not when she had already made up her mind.

    “Anything else?” Ariana asked, her tone brisk.

    “Yes, Inquisitor,” Josephine chimed in, her polished voice carrying a note of curiosity. “We received a letter from King Alistair for you.” She handed over a sealed envelope.

    Ariana took the letter, breaking the seal with practiced ease. Cullen watched as she read, her expression softening, a chuckle escaping her lips. Then another. The sound was light, familiar—personal. Cullen frowned, his curiosity stirring. Did she know Alistair well enough to be laughing at his correspondence? And what was in it that she found so amusing?

    “Oh, that’s not good,” Ariana said suddenly, her tone shifting as she handed the letter to Riley. “Get Valentina and Linnea out there now.”

    Riley took the letter, scanning it quickly. She chuckled a few times as well, but her expression soon mirrored Ariana’s concern. “Yeah, we probably should save the man that funds most of our expenses…”

    “Funds?” Leliana and Josephine asked in unison, their voices laced with surprise.

    “What’s going on?” Cullen asked, frustration creeping into his tone. He hated being left in the dark, especially when it concerned the Inquisition.

    Ariana turned to him first, her expression calm but serious. “It would appear Venatori have infiltrated the palace. We need to root them out.”

    “Venatori?” Cullen’s frown deepened. “Why would they target the palace?”

    Before answering, Ariana turned to Josephine. “Rangers have had a contract with the King for years now, assisting in Ferelden’s rebuilding after the Blight.”

    Josephine blinked, clearly caught off guard. “Is there anyone you don’t know, Inquisitor?”

    Ariana laughed, the sound bright and unbothered. “A great many people, my dear ambassador.”

    Cullen, however, couldn’t quite let it go. His gaze lingered on her, trying to piece together the story behind the laughter, the inside jokes she clearly shared with the King of Ferelden. He didn’t know why it bothered him. It wasn’t jealousy—was it? No, it couldn’t be. But the ease with which she interacted with everyone, from soldiers to kings, was something he could never quite reconcile.

    As the morning wore on, the group worked seamlessly, organizing forces, redirecting scouts, and planning strategies. Cullen kept his focus on the tasks at hand, but his thoughts lingered on Ariana—on her ability to lead, to inspire, to shoulder burdens he sometimes wondered if anyone could bear. And somewhere in the back of his mind, the question still nagged at him: how well did she know Alistair, and why did it matter to him at all?

    ~~~

    The war room was quiet now, the earlier bustle of plans and reports replaced by a stillness that felt almost too loud. Ariana was already halfway to the door when Cullen reached out, catching her arm gently.

    “Ari, wait.”

    She turned to him, her expression curious. “What is it?”

    He hesitated, glancing toward the door to ensure they were alone. “Your… familiarity with King Alistair,” he began carefully. “It seemed… well, personal.”

    Ariana blinked, her lips twitching into a faint smile. “Personal?” she repeated, a note of humor creeping into her voice. “Cullen, are you… jealous?”

    His jaw tightened, and he straightened instinctively. “Jealous? I wouldn’t call it that,” he said quickly, though he could hear the slight defensiveness in his own tone. “I just… You seemed close.”

    Her smile widened, the glint of mischief in her eyes unmistakable. “You know he’s married, right? To Lyna Mahariel. The Hero of Ferelden? They had a Dalish ceremony, or so I hear. It’s not official since he rules with Anora, but still…” She trailed off, her tone teasing. “You’re worried about him?”

    Cullen flushed, suddenly feeling ridiculous. “That’s not the point,” he muttered, though the corner of his mouth twitched upward despite himself.

    Ariana laughed softly, shaking her head as she reached into her satchel. “Here,” she said, pulling out the letter Alistair had sent and handing it to him. “Read it for yourself. Maybe then you’ll understand.”

    Cullen took the parchment, his brow furrowing as he unfolded it. His eyes scanned the page, his lips moving faintly as he read:

    My most esteemed White Wolf—or is it Inquisitor now? Or something about Your Worship?

    First things first: an apology. I wasn’t in the best of moods the last time we saw each other. Sorry I didn’t have time to give you a better welcome. You’ll have to come to the palace. I’m still curious about the hand thingy.

    However, to the problem at hand. These cultists… Venatori, I think they’re called? We have them in the royal palace, or so I’m told. Like rats—but with magic and nasty sneers. I don’t know what they’re up to, but I need to find them and drive them out. Since you seem to know all about them, can you come fix this too?

    And since you’re paid to ‘fix all the things,’ that falls under our existing contract, right?

    Something something grateful something.

    Wait… did you just write that? You scribes do this on purpose, don’t you?

    King Alistair Theirin

    Cullen couldn’t stop the chuckle that escaped him. “Maker,” he muttered, shaking his head. “You’re saying this is the King… of Ferelden?”

    “Yes, well” Ariana said, leaning casually against the edge of the table. “That’s Alistair for you. Half king, half… I don’t even know.”

    He folded the letter, still smirking as he handed it back to her. “So, this is why you were amused?”

    She nodded, tucking the letter away. “The Rangers have worked for him for years. Bann Teagan was the one who reached out to us initially, but he eventually introduced us to Alistair. We’ve met only a few times—mostly when things needed fixing that he couldn’t handle himself, or when he came to find Varric, and then at Redcliffe when we recruited the mages. Other than that, it’s just the occasional letter like this.” She paused, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “Actually, the first time we met probably explains it best.”

    Cullen tilted his head, curiosity sparking in his eyes. “Go on.”

    “It was years ago, back around 9:32,” she began, leaning casually against the table. “We were called to Denerim by Bann Teagan, and when we arrived at the palace, Alistair was slouched over the throne like a bored tavern-goer waiting for his next drink. One leg draped over the armrest, the other stretched out on the floor. He looked at me, grinned like I’d just walked in with a tray of cookies, and said, ‘You’re the famous Silver Rangers, right? Or at least, you’re famous, according to Teagan here. He’s been singing your praises so loudly I think the pigeons have started delivering fan mail.’ Then we got sidetracked discussing the merits of pigeons as messengers. Then after Teagan finally got frustrated, Alistair got up, handed me a massive stack of reports and said, ‘Consider these your mission briefs. You’re officially tasked with… well, fixing all the things.’”

    Cullen chuckled, the mental image of the king’s casual demeanor clashing with the grandeur of the throne room clearly amusing him. “He said that?”

    “Word for word,” Ariana replied with a laugh. “I thought he was joking at first, but no—he meant it. I remember Bann Teagan looking like he wanted to strangle him right there. And Alistair, completely unfazed, just shrugged and then offered to pay us in pigeons.

    Cullen shook his head, smiling despite himself. “And you just… did it?”

    “Of course,” she said with a smirk. “We sorted out the issues, got the contracts rolling, and that was that. Afterward, he sent a pigeon—not a letter, an actual pigeon—with a message that just said, ‘Thanks for fixing all the things.’”

    Cullen laughed outright this time, the sound warm and genuine. “Maker’s breath, no wonder you find his letters amusing.”

    “See? Nothing to worry about,” Ariana said, stepping closer. “The man’s more afraid of me than anything else.”

    Cullen raised an eyebrow, his grin lingering. “I believe it.”

    “You do?” Ariana quirked an eyebrow. “You don’t seem afraid of me… are you?”

    Cullen’s smile softened, his head tilting slightly as he regarded her. “You have no idea.”

    Ariana chuckled, her hand brushing lightly against his chest as she stepped closer. “Good. Wouldn’t want you getting too comfortable, Commander.”

    “I doubt that’s a danger with you around,” Cullen replied, his tone laced with warmth. But then his smile faltered, the earlier conversation lingering in his thoughts. His voice lowered, edged with something more vulnerable. “You know… it’s not that I don’t trust you. It’s just… seeing how at ease you were about Alistair. It surprised me. I suppose it made me wonder…”

    She raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Wonder if I’ve had… entanglements with the King of Ferelden?”

    Cullen blinked, momentarily caught off guard. His jaw tightened, and a slight flush crept up his neck. “I wouldn’t have phrased it like that,” he said quickly, his tone more defensive than he intended. “But—”

    “But you were thinking it,” Ariana teased, her voice lilting with playful accusation.

    “I—” He faltered, then sighed, his shoulders dropping slightly. “Perhaps the thought crossed my mind.”

    Ariana shook her head, her laughter soft but genuine. “Oh, Cullen…” Her expression shifted then, the teasing smile fading, replaced by something quieter. Her hand tightened slightly on his chest, grounding herself as her gaze softened. “You have nothing to worry about,” she said gently. “There’s never been anyone else.”

    Her words settled heavily between them, and Cullen froze, staring at her as if he’d misheard. “Never?” he echoed, his voice barely above a whisper.

    Ariana met his eyes, her confidence unwavering, though there was a brief flicker of something softer—an almost bashful look that vanished as quickly as it had come. “Not after the Blight. Not after Kirkwall. Not… ever.”

    Cullen’s heart lurched, the weight of her confession slamming into him with an intensity he wasn’t prepared for. He searched her face for any sign of jest or embellishment but found only the unflinching truth in her eyes. “You mean…” He hesitated, the enormity of what she was saying rendering him momentarily speechless. “I was your first?” His voice softened, almost disbelieving. “And… your only?”

    Ariana cleared her throat as a faint blush crept on her cheeks, her voice steady but quiet. “Well… when you put it that way…”

    He swallowed hard, his breath uneven as her words sank in. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe her—it was that he couldn’t quite grasp the depth of what it meant. All this time, through years of separation, through everything she’d endured… she’d held onto him. To them.

    “I… Maker’s breath, Ari,” he murmured, his hand lifting to brush against her cheek. “I didn’t… I never imagined…”

    “For a long time,” Ariana continued, her gaze not leaving his, “I didn’t fully understand what you meant to me. Or maybe I didn’t let myself.” She paused, her words faltering for the first time. Her eyes flickered down briefly, her fingers brushing against his hand as if grounding herself. When she spoke again, her voice was quieter but steady. “I think I was afraid to realize it. Afraid of how much you meant. But… no matter where I went or who I met… no one was ever you.”

    Cullen’s grip on her hand tightened, his chest tightening with a mix of emotions—gratitude, guilt, awe. “Ari,” he began, his voice rough with emotion. “I never… I didn’t realize.”

    Her lips curved into a faint smile, bittersweet but unwavering. “I didn’t expect you to. But it’s true. It’s always been you, Cullen. No matter how much time or distance or chaos came between us, that never changed.”

    Cullen felt a lump rise in his throat, his free hand running through his hair as he tried to process the magnitude of her words. He had spent so long believing himself unworthy—of her, of love, of peace. And now, here she was, laying bare the depth of her devotion. It was almost too much to bear.

    “You’ve given me more than I deserve,” he said finally, his voice cracking slightly. “I don’t know how I can ever live up to that.”

    Ariana’s fingers brushed against his cheek, her touch light but grounding. “There’s nothing for you to live up to, Cullen. You just have to be you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

    He closed his eyes briefly, leaning into her touch as her words settled over him. When he looked at her again, his gaze was warm but intense, as though truly seeing her for the first time. “I… Maker, I love you, Ariana.”

    Her smile widened, her eyes shining with a warmth that eased the ache in his chest. “I love you too.”

    Cullen let out a shaky breath, pulling her into his arms and holding her tightly. For a long moment, they stood there in silence, the weight of her confession settling between them like a quiet promise. He hadn’t fully understood what he meant to her before, but now, the truth was clear. He wasn’t just her Commander, or her fiancée, or even the man she loved. He was her first, her only—and he would be her last.

    “I don’t know how you endured so much on your own,” Cullen murmured, his voice soft as he held her close.

    Ariana leaned her head against his chest, her voice quiet but resolute. “I wasn’t alone. Not really. You were always with me, Cullen. Even when you weren’t.”

    And for the first time, Cullen truly understood: she wasn’t just his anchor—he was hers.

    ~~~

    After leaving the war room, Cullen had gone off to yell at more soldiers and recruits—or so Ariana imagined. She loved that man, but she wasn’t sure he could be truly happy unless he was ordering people around, albeit lovingly. She knew all too well that Cullen cared for his people as deeply as she cared for hers.

    Her path took her to the room Solas had claimed as his own, where his half-finished murals adorned the walls. She hadn’t seen much of him in recent weeks, and, truthfully, she had missed their conversations. There was something captivating about the way Solas spoke of the Fade, of spirits and the vast mysteries of the world. It pulled at the same part of her that had once dreamed of exploration and discovery.

    She found him at his desk, leafing through tomes filled with writings she doubted anyone else in Skyhold could decipher. “Solas, am I interrupting?” she asked tentatively.

    He turned, offering that familiar, soft smile. “Not at all, Inquisitor.”

    Ariana rolled her eyes. “Oh, please, not you too. Just call me Ariana. Or Wolf, if you prefer.”

    “Wolf?” Solas quirked an eyebrow, though his tone made it seem as if he were testing the word rather than questioning it. “Very well, Wolf.”

    She couldn’t quite discern the flicker of satisfaction in his expression, but she chose not to press. Instead, she leaned casually against the doorframe. “I’ve been thinking about what you told me before—about your studies, your travels. If you have time, I’d like to hear more.”

    Solas studied her for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly as if measuring her sincerity. “You continue to surprise me,” he said finally. “Very well. Let us talk… though perhaps somewhere more interesting than this.”

    Without another word, he gestured toward a small sitting area on the opposite side of the room. Ariana followed him, curious but uncertain. When they sat, Solas turned to her with a piercing, almost curious look. “Do you trust me?” he asked suddenly.

    The question gave her pause. But she nodded after a moment, her voice soft. “I do.”

    Solas smiled faintly. “Then close your eyes.”

    She tilted her head but complied, her curiosity outweighing her caution. The room fell into silence as she closed her eyes, her breathing slowing. For a moment, she felt the faint pull of magic—familiar but subtle. Then everything faded.

    When Ariana opened her eyes, she was standing in Haven.

    The realization struck her like a splash of cold water. The Breach hung in the sky, jagged and glowing, its edges pulsing faintly with ominous energy. Her eyes darted to the mountains, and her stomach tightened. There was no sign of the avalanche, no debris or destruction. Everything was as it had been before…

    Before I closed the Breach, she thought, her pulse quickening. “Solas?” she asked, her voice quieter than she intended. “What is this?”

    “It is Haven, as you remember it,” Solas replied, appearing at her side. His tone was calm, almost amused. “A place that is deeply tied to you.”

    Ariana frowned, her brow furrowing. “But that’s impossible. The Breach—”

    “Where do you think we are, Wolf?” Solas interrupted gently, his gaze steady.

    Her breath caught as understanding dawned. “This… isn’t real,” she whispered.

    Solas inclined his head. “That is a matter of perspective, but yes. We are in the Fade.”

    The Fade. The word sent a shiver down her spine, though not from fear. She turned slowly, taking in her surroundings. The flickering edges of the buildings, the faint hum of energy in the air—it was both familiar and otherworldly. Her lips parted slightly as wonder overtook her. “It’s… beautiful,” she murmured.

    Solas watched her, his expression unreadable. “Most mortals find the Fade unsettling,” he remarked. “Few describe it as you just did.”

    Ariana turned to him, her eyes bright with curiosity. “How could anyone not be fascinated by this?”

    Solas smiled faintly but didn’t respond. Instead, he gestured toward one of the houses. She followed him inside, where a small bed sat in the center of the room. “I sat beside you here while you slept, studying the Anchor,” he said, his voice quieter now.

    “And keeping me alive, from what I hear,” Ariana added with a small smile. “How long did it take to study the mark on my hand?”

    “A magical mark of unknown origin, tied to a unique breach in the Veil?” Solas’ voice carried an edge of excitement. “Longer than you might think. I ran every test I could imagine, searched the Fade for answers… and found nothing.”

    “Nothing?” Ariana asked, tilting her head. “That doesn’t sound like you.”

    Solas chuckled softly. “Cassandra certainly didn’t think so. She threatened to have me executed as an apostate if I didn’t produce results.”

    Ariana laughed, shaking her head. “She does that with everyone. She threatened to kill me when I woke up.”

    “Did she?” Solas quirked an eyebrow. “Yes, that does sound like her.”

    He continued, his tone growing more reflective. “You were never going to wake up. How could you? A mortal sent physically through the Fade? I was frustrated, frightened. The spirits I might have consulted had been driven away by the Breach. I was ready to flee.”

    Ariana blinked. “Flee? But… the Breach threatened the whole world. Where would you have gone?”

    “Someplace far away,” Solas said with a shrug, though there was a faint trace of self-deprecation in his voice. “Where I might research a way to repair the Breach before its effects reached me. I never said it was a good plan.”

    “Well, I’m glad you stayed,” Ariana said sincerely. “Even if your plan wasn’t great.”

    “As am I,” Solas replied, his voice softening. “You hold the key to our salvation, Wolf. When I saw you seal the rift, I felt the whole world change.”

    “Felt the whole world change?” she asked surprised at his reaction.

    Solas smiled softly at her “You had walked in the Fade. I have explored the Fade more than anyone alive, but even I can only visit in dreams. But you… you might have been able to visit me here while awake.”

    Before Ariana could respond, Solas continued. “But that’s probably best discussed after you wake up.” Then the world around her began to blur, the edges dissolving into light.

    She woke with a start, her chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. The room was dark, the faint glow of moonlight filtering through the window. For a moment, she sat still, her thoughts racing. The Fade… she had been there. Fully conscious. Awake.

    “That was incredible,” she whispered to herself, a small, exhilarated smile breaking across her face.

    ~~~

    Cullen was getting tired. He had been staring at reports for hours, and they never seemed to end. Maybe Ariana was right—maybe he did need to get some rest. He found himself reading the same lines over and over before the words registered.

    “Commander!” A soldier burst into his office without knocking.

    “What?” Cullen barked, already irritated by the interruption.

    “The Inquisitor, ser,” the soldier began but faltered, clearly at a loss for words. The hesitation alone set Cullen on edge.

    “The Inquisitor, what?” Cullen demanded, his voice rising. “Speak!”

    The soldier’s eyes darted nervously. “She—well, they say she collapsed.”

    “What?” Cullen froze for a heartbeat before striding toward the soldier, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “What do you mean she collapsed?”

    Clearing his throat, the soldier stammered, “People… people are saying they saw Solas carrying her to her quarters. She was unconscious…”

    Cullen didn’t wait to hear the rest. His stomach churned, and he bolted out of his office, leaving the soldier mid-sentence. His boots thundered against the stone floors as he sprinted through Skyhold’s main hall, barely registering the questioning glances from Leliana and Josephine as he passed. He didn’t care about the stares or whispers. All that mattered was Ariana.

    He pushed the door to their quarters open with more force than intended and rushed up the stairs. His heart was pounding, but relief flooded him when he saw her sitting up on the bed. Her breaths were shallow and uneven, but she was awake. She turned to him, her hazel-green eyes meeting his, though something about her gaze seemed… distant.

    “Cullen?” Ariana asked, her tone laced with confusion. “Is everything alright?”

    He rushed to her side, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Ari, what do you mean? That’s what I came to ask you,” he said, his voice tight with concern. “Are you alright?”

    “I… yes, why wouldn’t I be?” she asked, tilting her head as if the question confused her.

    “Ari, Maker’s breath—do you even know how you got here?” he pressed.

    She blinked, glancing around the room before her eyes returned to his. There was a flicker of something—uncertainty, perhaps—but it vanished as quickly as it appeared. “I… no… I was talking to Solas…” Her words trailed off, but then she smiled, her expression softening into something almost dreamlike.

    Cullen’s stomach twisted. “Ari, what happened?” he asked, his tone urgent but careful.

    “It was incredible, Cullen,” she said, her voice light and breathless with awe. The exhilaration in her tone was undeniable, but so was the uneven cadence of her breathing. Her chest rose and fell quickly, as though the memory itself had left her winded.

    “What was?” Cullen asked, his concern deepening.

    “The Fade,” she said, the wonder in her voice making the words feel heavier. “It was… we were in Haven. The Breach was still in the sky. I could see it, explore it. I can remember it…” Her hands gestured faintly as if trying to describe something too vast for words.

    Cullen’s blood ran cold. “The Fade?” he echoed, his voice dropping into a sharp whisper. “Ari, what are you saying? You’re not a mage—you can’t just… walk the Fade.”

    “I didn’t, not by myself,” Ariana said quickly, shaking her head. “Solas was there.”

    Cullen’s jaw tightened, his hand moving to grasp hers. “Solas?” he repeated, his voice strained. “Ari, you don’t understand the danger you were in. The Fade isn’t safe—not for anyone, least of all someone without training.”

    Ariana frowned, pulling her hand back slightly, her earlier dazed smile fading for only a moment. “I wasn’t alone,” she said firmly. “I trust Solas. He wouldn’t have let anything happen to me.”

    Cullen stood abruptly, pacing to the other side of the room as his frustration bubbled over. “Ari, do you even hear yourself? You put your trust—your life—in the hands of a man who spends half his time defending demons and the other half spouting theories no one can understand!”

    “Not demons. Spirits,” Ariana corrected, her voice rising slightly. “He’s—he’s seen so much. Everything he’s told me, everything he’s shown me—it’s all been…” She paused, searching for the right word. “Eye-opening.”

    Cullen turned to face her, his expression a mix of anger and worry. “How was this even possible, Ari?” he asked, his voice low but intense.

    “Solas thinks it’s because of the mark,” she admitted, her tone softening. “He believes it’s tied to more than just sealing rifts. That it might allow me to interact with the Fade in ways no one else can.”

    Cullen’s shoulders stiffened, his mind racing. “Ari, do you have any idea how dangerous that is? The mark—it’s already unpredictable. And now you’re telling me it might be making you more vulnerable to the Fade?” He shook his head, his frustration giving way to fear. “This isn’t safe. None of it is.”

    Ariana hesitated for only a moment before leaning forward, reaching for him with both hands. Her fingers brushed his as her hazel-green eyes locked onto his, still shining with unrelenting excitement. “Cullen, you don’t understand,” she said, her voice tinged with awe. “It was like nothing I’ve ever experienced. The Fade—it was beautiful. I could feel it, touch it, be in it. It wasn’t like a dream—it was real. It was alive.”

    Her words stopped him cold. Her hands tightened over his, as though grounding herself in the memory, her breaths shallow but quickened with exhilaration.

    “Ari…” Cullen’s voice cracked, his fear and frustration bubbling over. “Do you even hear yourself? This—this isn’t normal. It isn’t safe. And the fact that you can’t see that…” He stopped, his jaw tightening.

    “I felt safe, Cullen,” she said, her voice soft but insistent. “Solas was with me. It wasn’t reckless—it was…” She trailed off, a wistful smile curving her lips.

    Cullen stared at her, helpless against the gulf forming between them. She was here in front of him, but part of her was still in the Fade. He could see it in the distant gleam of her eyes, the way her breaths remained uneven, and the faint shimmer of the mark on her hand as it caught the light.

    “You’re not back yet,” he said finally, his voice quiet and strained. “Not fully.”

    Her brow furrowed faintly, confusion flickering in her gaze before she shook her head. “I am. I promise.” She smiled faintly, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

    Cullen let out a slow breath, his hand moving to cup hers gently. “Ari, you need to rest. Just… stay here. Let me take care of you.”

    Ariana tilted her head, her expression softening. “You always do,” she murmured.

    “Always,” Cullen said, his voice steady but heavy with unspoken worry. He wrapped an arm around her, guiding her to rest against him, even as his mind raced. Whatever she had seen in the Fade… it wasn’t finished with her. And neither, it seemed, was Solas.

  • Chapter 79 – Through the Night

    29 -30 Justinian 9:41

    The following morning, Ariana woke up alone. Of course he’s gone already, she thought, the cold side of the bed a sharp contrast to the warmth of the covers she hadn’t wanted to leave. She sat up slowly, brushing her fingers through her hair as she glanced toward the window. The light was dim—dawn had barely broken—but she knew Cullen would already be moving, carrying the weight of his title before most had even stirred.

    The thought left a knot in her chest. He hadn’t been sleeping much lately, not even with her there to ground him. She could feel the fatigue radiating off him every time she touched his hand or caught his gaze. That bone-deep weariness was written in the lines of his face, and as much as he tried to hide it behind a composed mask, Ariana saw through it. She always did.

    Sliding out of bed, she dressed quickly, her boots barely making a sound on the stone floor as she descended toward his office. It was empty. Of course it is. The war room was her next stop, but from the bridge, she caught sight of Cullen below in the training yard, speaking with Riley. Relief mixed with mild irritation at how early he’d risen yet again.

    As she approached them, Cullen turned toward her, a faint smile softening his features. Even Riley glanced up with a smirk, though her usual sharp wit was tempered by an undercurrent of respect.

    “Well, you two are scheming early this morning,” Ariana quipped as she approached, tucking her hands into the folds of her coat.

    Cullen glanced up, his lips quirking into a faint smile. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

    “Or maybe you’re just sleeping too much… Inquisitor,” Riley teased, her smirk sharp as a dagger.

    “Riley,” Ariana warned, her tone laced with mock severity, “I’ll make Valentina first lieutenant if you keep that up.”

    Riley laughed, unperturbed. “As if she’d take the job. She’s not ready to deal with your particular brand of difficult.”

    Ariana arched a brow but couldn’t suppress the faint tug of a smile. “Keep it up, Riley.”

    “I mean, you’re already picking up Alistair’s habits,” Riley continued, gesturing toward the reports in her hands. “Next thing you’ll tell me is to ‘fix all the things.’”

    “Well, I wasn’t going to say that… but it’s not a bad idea.” Ariana smirked, before adding, “Actually, who’s at the manor right now?”

    Riley tilted her head, considering. “I think Eshara and Ghis are there with their squads. Elliott too.”

    Ariana’s grin turned sly. “Eshara and Ghis again? Something there?”

    “Maybe,” Riley replied, her own expression knowing. “Haven’t figured it out yet, but it sure seems that way.”

    Shaking her head, Ariana waved the thought away. “Alright, send them to meet with Arl Teagan. The Hinterlands are still a mess. See if they can bring in the remaining rebel mages and Templars. And if they can’t, have them deal with it.” She glanced at Cullen. “Unless the Commander has objections?”

    “None,” he said, nodding. “Easier than deploying additional soldiers.”

    “You got it, Wolf,” Riley said, turning to leave. “Anything else?”

    “Stick around Skyhold for now. I’m going to need you.”

    Riley arched a brow at that but merely shrugged. “By your order, Wolf.”

    As Riley strode away, Ariana turned to Cullen. Her teasing smile faded, replaced by something softer, more concerned. “Did you sleep?” His exhaustion wasn’t new, but it was worse. She knew he worked harder when she was away—he’d all but confessed as much once—but this… this was different. Even with her here, he wasn’t resting.

    Cullen hesitated. “Ari, I came to bed with you last night.”

    “And yet…” Ariana’s gaze searched his, unyielding. “That wasn’t my question, Cullen.”

    He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Ari—”

    “You can’t keep this up forever,” she interrupted, frustration threading through her voice. She didn’t want to push him here, not in the middle of the courtyard, but the words slipped out before she could stop them. Shaking her head, she forced a small, tired smile and turned to leave.

    Before she could take another step, his hand caught her wrist, the familiar warmth grounding her. “Come,” he said, his voice soft but insistent. “I have something to show you.”

    His faint smile and the light in his tired eyes stopped her short. There was something he wasn’t telling her, something he’d clearly planned. Against her better judgment, she nodded, letting him interlace his fingers with hers as he led her back toward the main hall. Instead of heading to the familiar corridors, he took a turn toward the guest quarters.

    “Where are we going?” she asked, her curiosity growing as he guided her toward the left wing.

    Cullen didn’t answer right away, though his smile widened as he pulled a blindfold from his pocket. “Put this on,” he said, the mischievous glint in his eyes deepening.

    Ariana stared at him, her eyebrows raising. “I’m sorry, what? You expect me to walk through Skyhold blindfolded?”

    “Trust me,” he replied simply, the confidence in his tone making her heart flutter.

    Ariana huffed but tied the blindfold over her eyes, curiosity outweighing her skepticism. “And now what?” she asked, arms crossed.

    Without warning, Cullen swept her off her feet. A soft gasp escaped her, quickly replaced by laughter. “Cullen, what are you doing?”

    “You’ll see,” he replied, his tone betraying a hint of mischief.

    The journey felt longer than it should have, her sense of direction muddled by the blindfold and the steady rhythm of his steps. Stairs—she counted more than she expected—then the faint creak of a door. Finally, he set her down gently, guiding her forward a few steps into the cold mountain air.

    “Close your eyes,” he murmured, his hands brushing against hers as he untied the blindfold. “You can open them now.”

    When she did, the sight before her stole her breath. They stood on a balcony high above Skyhold, the Frostback Mountains stretching endlessly in the distance. The sunlight danced across the snow-covered peaks, painting the world in hues of gold and white. Ariana turned, catching sight of the room behind them—a space unlike anything she’d seen before.

    The vaulted ceilings soared above, adorned with intricate banners and stained glass that caught the light. Rich carpets lined the stone floor, while tapestries and paintings gave the walls life. A grand bed sat against one wall, flanked by carved wooden tables. Shelves brimming with books lined the opposite side, and a couch and desk completed the space. The air carried the faint scent of pine and aged parchment, grounding her in the moment.

    “Cullen… what is this place?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

    “Your quarters,” he said simply, his smile widening.

    Her eyes darted between the furnishings, the balconies, the view. “What? How—when—” She couldn’t even form a coherent thought. All she could do was smile, her chest swelling with an unfamiliar warmth. She turned back to him, his knowing expression saying everything she needed to know. He had done this for her. Spent weeks planning and preparing this.

    It wasn’t just a room. It was a gift. A promise.

    And in that moment, she realized something she hadn’t before. Cullen, for all his insecurities about their past—her nobility, his common upbringing—had always doubted he could give her what he thought she deserved. No matter how many times she told him she didn’t care, that she didn’t need grand gestures or lavish displays, he had carried that weight. But now, as Commander of the Inquisition, he seemed to believe he finally could.

    This wasn’t just about the room. It was about him. About them. About the life they were building together.

    Without warning, she ran to him, jumping into his arms and wrapping herself around him. He caught her, laughing as she pressed kisses to his face, his neck, anywhere she could reach.

    “So,” he said, his voice warm with amusement. “I take it you like it?”

    “It’s incredible,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. For once, she didn’t try to downplay the gesture or insist it wasn’t necessary. It was necessary—for him, for them. Her lips brushed against his. This time, the kiss was soft, lingering, filled with everything she couldn’t put into words.

    “And,” she added, her voice turning sultry as she leaned closer, “you know… it’s still early.” Her fingers trailed lightly along his jaw, her smile softening. “And we don’t get mornings like this often.”

    Her words carried a double meaning, one Cullen didn’t miss. It wasn’t just about the room, or the view, or the way his arms felt like home. It was the fleeting nature of these moments—stolen amidst the chaos of their lives—that made them precious. He was the Commander, she was the Inquisitor, and both of them knew that duty rarely left room for mornings like these. But here, now, they had carved one out.

    “That we don’t,” Cullen murmured, his lips quirking into a smile as he carried her toward the bed. “And I’d hate to waste it.”

    ~~~

    Despite the pleasant and surprising turn her morning had taken, Ariana’s thoughts kept drifting back to Cullen. The new quarters, his quiet pride in showing her something he had clearly spent weeks arranging—it had left her feeling closer to him than ever. But the worry remained. She knew he was pushing himself too far, and she would need to have that conversation with him soon. Not now, though. If she’d learned anything from their time in Kirkwall, it was that Cullen had a stubborn streak as wide as the Waking Sea, and pushing him at the wrong moment only led to frustration for them both.

    Instead, she turned her focus elsewhere. Passing through the main hall, she caught sight of Varric hunched over a table near the hearth, surrounded by a mountain of paperwork that could rival Cullen’s desk. The sight brought a wry smile to her lips. “Battling the demons of paperwork? That’s a fight nobody walks away from clean.”

    Varric looked up, his lips quirking into a grin. “You have no idea the number of times I’ve almost been killed by bills of lading. Paper cuts are a silent killer, Pup.”

    Ariana chuckled, stepping closer and glancing at the precarious stack of reports. “You should’ve told me. I would’ve sent Riley to save you. She loves a good battle.”

    “Riley would probably just add more paperwork to the pile,” Varric said, setting down his quill. But the usual ease in his voice faltered, replaced by something heavier. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

    Ariana tilted her head, her humor fading at the shift in his tone. “Should I be worried?”

    Varric hesitated, running a hand through his hair. “I never officially joined the Inquisition, you know. I don’t really know how to do this… disciple-hood thing. I’m a businessman, not exactly the ‘follow the chosen one’ type.”

    Ariana crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow. “Disciple-hood? Really, Varric? Maker’s breath, I don’t even know how to deal with all this. Just make something up. It’ll be fine.”

    Varric huffed a small laugh, some of the tension easing from his posture. “Oh, so we’re saving the world through bullshit now?”

    “Haven’t we always?” she replied with a shrug, her lips twitching into a faint smirk.

    “Well, alright, I can manage that.” Varric chuckled, shaking his head. But the humor was short-lived. He leaned back in his chair, his gaze dropping to the papers in front of him. “Speaking of bullshit, though… I guess you want to know more about my history with Corypheus.”

    Ariana’s smirk faded as she took a seat across from him. “I was wondering when you were going to tell me.”

    He sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “Like Hawke said, it was after the Qunari uprising. The Hawke family was a target—assassins were being sent after them left and right. We tracked them to a ruin in the Vimmarks.”

    “Wait, assassins? You didn’t think to tell me that back then?” Ariana’s voice was sharp with disbelief, though not anger. “You both knew Valentina used to be a Crow, right? She could’ve helped.”

    “You were busy, Pup,” Varric said softly. “And still recovering. At first, it just seemed like any other job. Nothing we hadn’t handled before.”

    “But?” Ariana prompted, sensing the shift in his tone.

    “But,” Varric continued, “it turned out to be a trap. Once you got far enough into the ruin, there was this magical barrier—kept you from going back. The whole thing was a prison the Grey Wardens were using to hold what they thought was a powerful darkspawn.”

    Ariana frowned, leaning forward. “I’ve never heard of Wardens imprisoning darkspawn. Why not just kill him?”

    “That’s what we thought too.” Varric’s voice dropped, his gaze fixed on the table. “But I’m starting to think it wasn’t that simple. I think they locked him up because he couldn’t be killed.”

    Ariana’s brow furrowed. “But you and Hawke both said you thought you killed him.”

    Varric’s head snapped up, his voice suddenly sharp. “We didn’t just think he was dead, Pup. He was dead. No pulse. No breath. Full of stab wounds. There wasn’t a lot of room for doubt.”

    She placed a hand over his, her voice gentle. “I believe you, Varric. It doesn’t make me feel any better to know that, but I believe you.”

    Varric let out a shaky breath, his shoulders slumping. “Maker’s breath, what have I let loose?”

    “You might be confused,” Ariana said, arching an eyebrow. “‘Brutally murdered’ isn’t really the same as ‘unleashed upon the world,’ Varric.”

    “In this case, it might be,” he muttered.

    Ariana studied him for a moment, her hand still resting on his. The weight of guilt he carried was evident in the tension around his eyes, the way his fingers fidgeted with the edge of a report. He and Hawke seemed to believe this was their fault—that their actions had somehow set Corypheus free. Maybe they had, in a way. But Ariana wasn’t so sure. Men like Corypheus didn’t seem the type to be stopped by a single misstep. If it hadn’t been them, it would have been someone else.

    She sat back, folding her arms. “You know this isn’t all on you, right?”

    Varric looked up at her, skepticism flickering in his gaze. “Doesn’t feel that way.”

    “Well, it shouldn’t,” she said firmly. “You didn’t put him in that prison, Varric. The Grey Wardens did. And if they thought locking him away was a good idea, maybe that’s where the blame belongs.”

    His lips quirked into a half-smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Thanks, Pup. You’re terrible at this whole absolution thing, but… thanks.”

    Ariana chuckled softly, leaning her elbows on the table. “I’m just saying, you’re not carrying this alone. You’ve got me. You’ve got Hawke. Hell, you’ve got half of Skyhold.”

    Their conversation eventually drifted to lighter topics, Varric’s humor slowly returning. But as Ariana left him to his mountain of paperwork, she couldn’t shake the image of his troubled expression. Corypheus wasn’t just a name to him—it was a wound, a ghost he couldn’t outrun. And as much as she wanted to believe they could stop this, a part of her couldn’t help but wonder if he was right to be so afraid.

    ~~~

    If Ariana was going to figure out what was going on with Cullen, she was going to need help. And she knew just the right person—or people, rather. Isabel always had a way of noticing things, and Emma… Well, if anyone could spot when Cullen was distracted or distant, it was Emma. The girl adored him, and the feeling was mutual.

    It was nearing midday as Ariana made her way toward the kitchens, hoping she’d find them both there. With any luck, they’d still be in their usual rhythm of preparing lunch together. As she passed through the courtyard, her gaze caught on the battlements above. Cullen stood there, speaking with some soldiers. He gestured animatedly, his voice low but commanding, and she couldn’t help but smile. For a brief moment, he seemed… lighter, less weighed down by the exhaustion she had seen earlier.

    But she knew it wouldn’t last. Whatever was keeping him up at night wasn’t something a single moment of relief could fix. Shaking the thought away, she continued on her path.

    The warmth of the kitchen hit her immediately as she stepped inside, the scent of rosemary and fresh dough mingling in the air. Isabel stood at the counter, her hands deftly slicing herbs, while Emma was at her usual spot, kneading dough with an intense focus. It was a familiar, comforting sight, and for a moment, Ariana let herself relax.

    “Ariana, looking for lunch?” Isabel’s voice pulled her from her thoughts, her tone light but knowing.

    Ariana smiled, realizing she hadn’t eaten anything all day. Between the morning with Cullen and her conversation with Varric, she’d completely forgotten about food—and coffee, for that matter. “I… actually hadn’t thought about it, but now that you mention it, I haven’t eaten today.”

    “What am I to do with you, child?” Isabel chided, though her smile softened the words. There was no real frustration in her tone, just the gentle affection Ariana had come to rely on over the years.

    Ariana chuckled, moving closer to the counter. “Did you know? About the room Cullen prepared?”

    Isabel’s smile widened as she set down her knife. “I did. Who do you think arranged for all the furniture deliveries? That man loves you more than I think even he realizes.”

    Ariana’s heart warmed at the words, and she couldn’t help but smile. “And I love him, Isabel.”

    “Would you look at that? You two are finally not keeping secrets from each other… mostly,” Isabel said, though the teasing edge in her voice shifted at the end, leaving Ariana with a faint sense of unease.

    “Mostly?” Ariana raised an eyebrow, suspicion creeping into her tone. “Isabel, what do you mean by that? You sound like you know something.”

    Isabel’s gaze didn’t waver as she turned back to her herbs. “It’s not my place to tell you, child. And no, I don’t know everything he’s keeping. You’ll have to talk to him. But,” she paused, glancing at Emma, “we both know he’s not the only one with secrets.”

    Ariana stiffened, her sharp gaze meeting Isabel’s, though she waved a hand dismissively. She knew exactly what Isabel was referring to, and that wasn’t a conversation she planned on having—not now, and certainly not in front of Emma. “I do need to ask you something,” she said, steering the conversation back. “Has he been sleeping?”

    Isabel’s expression sobered, her shoulders sinking slightly. “Not much, from what I can tell. I’ll make his bed sometimes, and it stays that way for days at a time.”

    The answer didn’t surprise her, but it still left a pit in her stomach. Ariana glanced down at Emma, who was focused intently on her dough, her small hands working with care. “Hey, cub,” Ariana said softly, her voice lightening as she crouched to Emma’s level. “How’s it going there?”

    Emma beamed, her face lighting up as she looked at Ariana. “Good! Mom said we’re making rosemary bread!”

    “Rosemary bread? That sounds delightful,” Ariana replied, smiling as she reached out to gently ruffle Emma’s hair.

    “Have you been keeping up with your training, recruit?” she teased, a familiar playfulness in her tone.

    Emma shrugged, her enthusiasm dimming slightly. “Not as much. Cullen’s always busy…” She hesitated, her hands slowing on the dough. “He hasn’t come by much to read to me either…”

    The heartbreak in her voice was subtle, but it hit Ariana like a blow. Emma adored Cullen—he was like a father to her in every way that mattered. For him to neglect that time with her was unheard of. Ariana turned toward Isabel, whose expression mirrored her own concern.

    “I’m sorry, cub,” Ariana said gently, reaching out to tuck a loose strand of Emma’s hair behind her ear. “Cullen’s been really busy since we got to Skyhold. He just wants to make sure you’re safe, especially after Haven. But how about I talk to him?”

    Emma’s eyes lit up, though there was a hint of hesitation in her voice. “But don’t tell him I told you. I don’t want him to think I’m trying to get him in trouble.”

    Ariana pressed a kiss to Emma’s forehead, her smile warm and reassuring. “You’ve got it, cub. He won’t hear it from me.”

    Standing, she turned back to Isabel, who motioned for her to sit. “Now about that lunch…” Ariana said, her tone lighter as she slid onto a stool.

    But as Isabel set a plate in front of her, the knot in Ariana’s chest only tightened. Whatever was going on with Cullen ran deeper than she’d thought. If he was neglecting his sleep, his own well-being, and even Emma, it wasn’t just work weighing on him. And as much as she wanted to confront him immediately, she knew she had to tread carefully. This wasn’t something she could rush.

    As she ate the bread Isabel had set in front of her, a thought began to form. She chewed slowly, her mind racing. She couldn’t force Cullen to rest, but maybe… maybe she could pull him away from his desk. Just for one evening. He wouldn’t stop working for his own sake, but he would for her.

    “Isabel,” she said suddenly, setting her bread down. “I need another favor.”

    Isabel raised an eyebrow, her lips quirking into a faint smirk. “What is it this time?”

    “Dinner,” Ariana said firmly. “I want to have dinner with him tonight. In the new quarters he prepared.”

    The smirk widened into a knowing smile. “You want me to make dinner for you both?”

    “Please,” Ariana said, her voice softening. “Make all of his favorites. You know them better than I do by now. And…” She hesitated, glancing at Emma before turning back to Isabel. “Make it special. I need him to step away from his work, just for one night.”

    Isabel’s expression softened, the teasing edge giving way to something warmer. “Of course, child. What time should I bring it up?”

    “Just after sundown,” Ariana said, her tone resolute. “Around seven.”

    “Consider it done,” Isabel replied with a small nod. “And Ariana… don’t push him too hard. If he’s anything like you, he’ll resist if you push.”

    Ariana chuckled softly, though the weight in her chest remained. “I know, Isabel. I’ll try.”

    As she finished her meal, she felt a flicker of hope. It wasn’t a solution, but it was a start. Tonight, she’d get him to stop, even if only for a little while.

    ~~~

    A knock at the door pulled Cullen from his thoughts. He set down his quill, sighing as he rubbed his temples. “Come in,” he called.

    The door creaked open, and a soldier stepped in, handing him a folded note before bowing and leaving without a word. Cullen’s brow furrowed as he unfolded the parchment, instantly recognizing Ariana’s handwriting:

    Dinner tonight? Our quarters?

    See you at seven.

    Love, Ari.

    Cullen couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips. She was pulling him away, giving him an excuse to stop working. He knew it. And as much as he wanted to protest, he couldn’t. Their time together wasn’t guaranteed. Soon enough, she’d be off again, chasing down leads, walking into danger, and risking everything. The thought of wasting these rare, quiet moments felt like a betrayal of the promise he’d made when he asked her to marry him.

    He glanced at the clock, making a note of the time, before returning to his work. But the words on the page in front of him blurred, his focus fractured. The letter lingered in his mind, its simplicity carrying an unspoken plea: Be with me.

    The scent of rosemary and freshly baked bread greeted Cullen as he climbed the stairs to their quarters. It mingled with the rich aroma of roasted meat and potato leek soup, a favorite from his childhood. He chuckled under his breath. Of course she did.

    When he reached the top, his steps faltered. Ariana stood near the balcony, bathed in the warm glow of twilight. She wore a house robe—soft, elegant, and somehow making her seem more regal than anything she could ever wear as the Inquisitor. She turned toward him, her smile radiant and unguarded, and it struck him as it always did: how impossibly lucky he was.

    Her smile deepened as their eyes met, and she crossed the room to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Hello, stranger,” she teased, her voice warm and lilting.

    Cullen slipped his arms around her waist, pulling her close. He said nothing, letting the moment stretch as he memorized the way she felt in his arms, the way she looked at him like he was her whole world. He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve her, but Maker help him, he wouldn’t squander it.

    “Are you hungry?” she asked softly, her lips brushing against his ear.

    He nodded, afraid to speak and shatter the spell of her presence. She took his hand, leading him to the table she’d set near the balcony. The arrangement was simple but thoughtful, candles flickering in the cool evening breeze as the view of the Frostbacks framed the scene.

    Dinner began with easy conversation—new reports, her meeting with Varric, musings about Corypheus. But as the meal went on and the sun dipped below the horizon, Ariana’s gaze shifted. She rested her chin on her hand, studying him in that quiet, disarming way she had, as though peeling back every layer of his defenses.

    “Cullen,” she began, her tone deceptively casual, “before I left… you mentioned there was something you wanted to tell me. Something you’d been meaning to talk about.”

    His heart sank. He’d hoped she’d forgotten. Or perhaps he’d hoped he could keep avoiding it. But Ariana never forgot. And she never let anything go. His smile faded as he stiffened in his seat, his hand tightening around his fork. “It’s nothing urgent,” he said quickly, waving it off. “We don’t need to—”

    “Cullen,” she interrupted, leaning back in her chair and folding her arms. Her gaze was steady, unyielding. “Don’t do that.”

    He sighed, pushing his chair back and rising to his feet. He crossed to the balcony, the evening breeze cooling the heat rising in his chest. He gripped the railing tightly, his mind racing. How could he explain this without sending her into a spiral of worry? How could he reassure her when he wasn’t sure he could reassure himself?

    Ariana followed, stepping onto the balcony with the quiet grace he loved. She stood beside him, her presence grounding him even as her proximity stirred his unease. “Cullen,” she said softly, her voice laced with worry. “Whatever it is, just tell me.”

    He hesitated, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and measured. “As leader of the Inquisition, you… you need to know the risks I’ve taken.”

    Her brow furrowed, and he could feel her eyes on him. “What risks?”

    Cullen took a deep breath, forcing himself to meet her gaze. “Lyrium grants templars their abilities, but it also controls us. Those who are cut off from it… they suffer. Some go mad. Others… die.”

    Her eyes widened slightly, and confusion flickered across her face. “I know this.”

    He nodded. “Then you know what I’m risking.” He paused, his jaw tightening. “I haven’t taken lyrium since I joined the Inquisition.”

    The silence that followed was deafening. Ariana’s hand came to her mouth as she stared at him, the implications sinking in. “Since Haven? Cullen, that was months ago. Why… why didn’t you tell me?”

    “I didn’t want to burden you,” he admitted, his voice cracking slightly. “After Kirkwall… after everything… I couldn’t let it control me any longer. This is my choice.”

    Her eyes shone with unshed tears as she stepped closer, gripping his arm. “And if it kills you? What then?”

    “It hasn’t yet,” he replied quietly, his gaze dropping. “And I’ve taken precautions. Cassandra knows. If I become unfit to lead—”

    “Cassandra?” Ariana’s voice broke, her frustration and hurt spilling over. “You told Cassandra, but not me?”

    Cullen’s chest tightened as he saw the pain in her eyes. “You have enough to worry about, Ari. The Inquisition—”

    “I don’t care about the Inquisition,” she interrupted, her voice fierce. She grabbed his hand, forcing him to look at her. “I care about you. You are my priority, Cullen, not this war.”

    Her words hit him like a hammer, shattering his resolve to shield her from this. He reached up, his hand covering hers as he closed his eyes. “I didn’t want you to feel this weight. I thought… I thought I was protecting you.”

    She shook her head, her voice softening but no less resolute. “We’re in this together. If you want me to take care of myself, to be honest with you, then you have to do the same. Don’t shut me out.”

    Cullen swallowed hard, guilt and love warring in his chest. “I’ll try,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

    Ariana cupped his face, her thumb brushing against his cheek. “Not good enough. Promise me.”

    “I promise,” he murmured, his voice steady this time.

    Ariana leaned her forehead against his, her tears finally spilling over. “We’ll get through this, Cullen. Together.”

    He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly as her strength seeped into him. “Together,” he echoed, his voice laced with a quiet determination. For the first time in weeks, he felt the weight on his shoulders lighten, knowing she was with him, every step of the way.

    ~~~

    The restlessness had become unbearable. Ariana lay on her side, her head sinking into the pillow as her thoughts refused to quiet. She had tried everything—counting her breaths, focusing on the steady rhythm of Cullen’s beside her—but nothing worked. His words from earlier echoed in her mind, their weight settling into her chest like an anchor. After Kirkwall… after everything… I couldn’t let it control me any longer.

    She turned onto her back, staring at the ceiling as the memory of his voice replayed again. The calm conviction in his tone was what unnerved her most. He had accepted this path—the risks, the suffering, the unknowns—but she couldn’t. Not yet. How could she? How could he carry all of this alone? The more she thought about it, the more she hated that he’d felt he had to.

    How do I help him? The question gnawed at her, fraying the edges of her composure. She’d heard whispers of lyrium withdrawal before—rumors exchanged by soldiers, fragments of stories shared by mages in hushed voices—but never anything concrete. What did it feel like? Was it a physical torment, a battle of the mind, or both? How bad was it?

    Her lack of understanding made her feel helpless, and Ariana hated feeling helpless.

    She shifted again, rolling onto her side to watch Cullen. He was asleep—something she had been desperate for him to do for weeks—but it was far from peaceful. The faint furrow of his brow, the occasional twitch of his fingers against the sheets, the tension that lingered even now… none of it escaped her notice. Even in sleep, he carried the weight of his struggle, and it broke her heart.

    Her hand hovered over his shoulder, caught in hesitation. Should she wake him? Would that be worse? She didn’t know, and that uncertainty only made the knot in her stomach tighten. At least he was resting, but she knew too well that sleep plagued by nightmares wasn’t restful. She had lived that reality herself, countless times.

    She sighed quietly, lowering her hand as she sat up in bed. Running her fingers through her disheveled hair, she tried to think of a solution. Think, Ariana. There had to be something she could do, someone she could turn to for guidance. Someone who understood what he was going through better than she did.

    Michael’s name crossed her mind first. He had spent his life in the Order, immersed in templar culture, and would undoubtedly know the answers she sought. But no—Michael had known Cullen too long. The second she began asking questions, he would go straight to him, and she didn’t want that. This wasn’t about doubting Cullen’s choice or his ability to lead. It was about supporting him without adding to his burden.

    Her thoughts spiraled for a while, frustration mounting until another name surfaced. Malcolm.

    Her breath caught, and hope flickered to life in her chest. Malcolm had been a templar once, just like Cullen. He had walked this path, survived the same torment Cullen was now enduring, and found a life beyond it. She had heard snippets of his story over the years—enough to know he understood what Cullen was going through in a way no one else could. And he was here, in Skyhold. She had seen him just the other day near the stables, helping with the supply inventory.

    He’ll understand. Malcolm wasn’t like Michael. He was discreet, practical. His loyalty was to her and her alone, he wouldn’t betray her confidence. He would give her the insight she needed without judgment or complication.

    Her resolve hardened. She would find Malcolm first thing in the morning. She would speak with him, learn everything she could, and figure out how best to help Cullen through this.

    For now, she forced herself to lie back down, though her heart still raced with worry. She glanced at Cullen again, watching the faint rise and fall of his chest. His presence beside her offered some comfort, but not enough to quiet the storm in her mind. She reached out, brushing her fingers lightly against his hand, as if grounding herself in the simple reminder that he was still here, still fighting.

    As the first hints of dawn began to creep through the window, Ariana stared up at the ceiling, her thoughts too loud to let her sleep. It wasn’t the comfort she had hoped for, but it was a plan. And that was something.

    ~~~

    At first light, Ariana was already dressed, her movements methodical despite the exhaustion from her sleepless night. She glanced over at Cullen, still asleep, his features softened by the early morning light filtering through the curtains. Her heart clenched as she watched him, knowing all too well that his rest wasn’t as peaceful as it appeared. The faint tension in his brow, the occasional twitch in his hand—it was clear his mind wasn’t at ease.

    She tore her gaze away, scribbling a quick note and leaving it on her pillow before slipping out of the room as quietly as possible. She had a mission this morning, one she hoped would give her the answers she so desperately needed.

    As she exited the main hall, the crisp air and muted hum of activity greeted her. Spotting Riley near the armory, Ariana quickened her pace.

    “Riley,” she called out, closing the gap between them. “Have you seen Malcolm this morning?”

    Riley turned, her expression curious. “Something wrong, Wolf?”

    Ariana shook her head quickly. “No, nothing like that. I just need to talk to him.”

    Riley’s eyes narrowed slightly, but she didn’t press further. “Last I saw, he was by the stables with Isabel.”

    “Thanks,” Ariana said, already moving.

    By the stables, she found Malcolm checking the saddles of a few horses, his steady hands inspecting every strap and buckle with practiced precision. His presence was grounding, a reminder of resilience and calm amidst chaos. Ariana hesitated for a moment, gathering her thoughts, before calling out.

    “Malcolm.”

    He turned at the sound of her voice, his sharp eyes softening when he saw her. “What’s on your mind, Wolf?”

    “Do you have a moment?” she asked, glancing around. “Somewhere private?”

    Malcolm’s brow furrowed slightly, curiosity flickering across his features, but he nodded without hesitation. “Lead the way.”

    Ariana guided him to a quiet corner near the outer ramparts, the cold stone walls providing some semblance of solitude. The morning air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of frost and woodsmoke. She stopped, turning to face him, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her bracer.

    “Malcolm… I need to ask you something,” she began, her voice quieter now. “It might be… uncomfortable. If it is, you don’t have to answer.”

    His expression softened as he leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “You’ve got my attention, Wolf.”

    Ariana took a steadying breath, her gaze briefly flicking to the Frostbacks in the distance before meeting his eyes again. “What’s it like… for a templar to stop taking lyrium?”

    Malcolm tilted his head, his usual stoicism giving way to a faint hint of understanding. “Well, I wasn’t expecting that,” he admitted, scratching his chin. “But I don’t mind telling you.”

    Her shoulders relaxed slightly, though the knot of tension in her chest remained.

    “It’s not an easy thing,” he began, his voice steady. “The withdrawal… it takes its toll. The first signs are small—fatigue, forgetfulness, cold that settles into your bones. But that’s just the beginning.”

    Ariana nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line.

    “Then come the headaches,” he continued, his tone matter-of-fact. “Splitting, unrelenting headaches that make it feel like your skull’s being crushed. And the dreams…” He paused, his gaze distant for a moment. “Strange dreams, vivid ones. Nightmares, if you’ve got demons in your past. They creep in, haunt you when you’re most vulnerable. Sometimes it feels easier to avoid sleep altogether, though that comes with its own price.”

    Her heart sank as his words painted a clearer picture. That’s why he’s not sleeping. The realization hit her like a blow. “That sounds… unbearable,” she said softly.

    “It can be,” Malcolm admitted. “The first month is uncomfortable, but manageable. It’s the next few months that test you. After that, things start to ease—if you can endure the worst of it.” His gaze sharpened slightly. “But you’re not asking this out of idle curiosity, are you?”

    Ariana hesitated, her eyes drifting back to the horizon. “No… I’m not.” She took a deep breath, steadying herself before continuing. “Cullen… he told me he stopped taking lyrium when he joined the Inquisition. It’s been months.”

    Malcolm’s brow furrowed. “Months, you say?”

    She nodded, her voice quieter now. “He’s not sleeping. I know he sleeps less when I’m not here, but now… even when I’m with him, he barely rests. He says he can endure it, but…” Her voice faltered for a moment. “I need to know how to help him if it becomes too much.”

    Malcolm studied her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. “If it’s been months, he’s through the worst of it. But if he’s not sleeping… the nightmares might be holding him back. That happens to those who’ve been through more than their share of darkness.”

    Ariana closed her eyes briefly, her mind flashing to the rumors she’d heard over the years. “Have you heard about what happened at Kinloch Hold during the Blight?”

    Malcolm’s eyes widened slightly. “Rumor was the tower fell to abominations. The stories said the entire place was overrun.”

    “It was,” Ariana said quietly. “And Cullen was there.”

    The weight of her words hung in the air, and Malcolm exhaled slowly, his expression grim. “Maker’s breath… that explains a lot.”

    “I don’t know the details,” she admitted, her voice tight. “He’s never spoken of it. But it haunts him. I see it in his eyes sometimes, and now, I think… I think it’s why he can’t sleep.”

    Malcolm nodded thoughtfully. “Cullen’s strong. Stubborn as a mountain, from what I’ve seen. But he’s carrying a heavy load. It helps to have something—or someone—to fight for. A focus. That can make all the difference.”

    “How do I help him?” she asked, her voice breaking slightly. “How do I make this easier for him?”

    Malcolm placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Just be there, Wolf. When it gets too much, remind him he doesn’t have to bear it alone. And make sure he takes care of himself—eats, rests, doesn’t push too hard. Exhaustion makes everything worse.”

    Her throat tightened, but she nodded. “Thank you, Malcolm.”

    “Anytime, Wolf,” he said with a small smile. “And if you ever need to talk—or need advice—you know where to find me.”

    Ariana offered a faint smile in return, though the weight of her concern lingered as she turned back toward the main hall. She felt a glimmer of relief, but the path ahead was still unclear. For now, she had a little more clarity, and that was enough to keep her moving forward.

    ~~~

    Cullen stirred at the sound of the door opening, his body still heavy with the remnants of sleep. He blinked slowly, adjusting to the dim light filtering into the room. The scent of Ariana’s cinnamon-laced hair lingered on the pillow beside him, grounding him in the moment. He shifted slightly, propping himself up on one elbow, and caught sight of her as she entered the room.

    His confusion was immediate. She’d left before dawn—he’d barely registered her departure, assuming she had been called away to deal with some matter for the Rangers. Now, she stood at the door, her expression unreadable but softened by a faint smile.

    “Where were you?” he asked, his voice gravelly from sleep.

    “Catching up with the Rangers,” she replied lightly, her tone almost too casual. “Nothing urgent.”

    Cullen frowned faintly, sitting up fully. Something about her demeanor unsettled him. She seemed… different. The weight from last night’s conversation wasn’t there, or at least it didn’t seem to be. Instead, she moved with an ease that made him wonder if he had imagined her distress entirely.

    Before he could ask more, she started to remove her bracers, setting them on the nearby table with a soft clink. His frown deepened as she unfastened her cloak, letting it fall to the chair, followed by her boots.

    “What are you doing?” he asked, his brow furrowing further. His mind was already beginning to shift toward the day ahead, the reports waiting for him, the preparations for their next campaign.

    She didn’t answer him. Instead, she slipped out of her tunic, revealing the thin shift beneath. His breath caught in his throat as she crossed the room and climbed onto the bed with deliberate grace, straddling him and settling herself on his lap. Her sudden closeness threw him off balance, her weight grounding him in place.

    “Ariana?” His hands instinctively moved to her hips, his confusion evident in his voice. “What’s going on?”

    “I’m going back to bed,” she said simply, her voice low and teasing, her hazel-green eyes glinting with mischief.

    Cullen blinked, caught entirely off guard. Her attitude was unlike anything he had expected. The worry, the intensity from last night—it was still there in her eyes, but now it was mingled with something else. Determination. Resolve. And something far more intoxicating.

    “Ari…” he started, his tone cautious. “What’s—”

    She silenced him with a kiss, her lips pressing against his with a firmness that stole his breath. His protest faltered, his mind scrambling to catch up with her actions. Her fingers tangled in his hair as she deepened the kiss, her body pressing against his.

    When she pulled back, his heart was pounding in his chest. “What are you doing?” he asked again, his voice lower now, edged with something he couldn’t quite name.

    She leaned in, her lips brushing the edge of his jaw, then trailing down his neck. “I told you,” she murmured against his skin, her breath warm and sending a shiver down his spine. “I’m going back to bed.”

    His grip on her hips tightened slightly as he tried to regain control of the situation, of himself. “Ariana, if something’s wrong—”

    She cut him off again, this time with a softer kiss, her fingers trailing along his bare chest beneath the blanket. “The only thing wrong,” she said between kisses, her voice husky, “is how much you’ve been neglecting yourself.”

    Cullen’s breath hitched as her words sank in, her touch making it harder to think clearly. “Ari, I—”

    “You’ve done enough worrying,” she interrupted, her lips brushing against his again. “Now it’s time to focus on something else. On me. On us.”

    Her words settled deep in his chest, disarming him entirely. He wanted to argue, to tell her he didn’t have time for this, that there was too much to do. But the way she looked at him—the fierce determination in her gaze, the heat in her touch—it stripped away every defense he tried to muster.

    Her lips found his again, and this time, he didn’t resist. The tension in his shoulders melted as his hands slid up her back, pulling her closer. Whatever concerns had plagued his mind moments ago were drowned out by the sensation of her body against his, the soft weight of her pressing him into the mattress.

    “I need you,” she whispered, her voice a mix of vulnerability and desire. “Let me take care of you.”

    His breath left him in a shaky exhale, her words cutting through every barrier he had built around himself. “Ari…” he began, his tone faltering.

    “Cullen,” she said, her hands cupping his face as she pulled back just enough to meet his gaze. “Please. Just let me. Don’t fight me on this.”

    He stared at her, his heart pounding, and for a moment, he couldn’t find the words. The weight of her emotions, the sheer intensity of her presence, left him speechless. Slowly, he nodded, his hands moving to her waist as he leaned up to capture her lips in a kiss that carried all the things he couldn’t say.

    Her response was immediate, her arms wrapping around his shoulders as she deepened the kiss. But something in him shifted—an edge of determination cutting through the haze of her touch. Without warning, his grip on her waist tightened, and in one swift motion, he flipped her onto her back, positioning himself above her.

    Ariana let out a soft gasp of surprise, her hair spilling across the pillow like a dark halo. But the look in her eyes—bright, intent, and brimming with desire—only encouraged him. His golden gaze held hers as he leaned down, his hands braced on either side of her, caging her in.

    “Is this what you want?” he asked, his voice low, roughened by emotion and barely restrained need.

    She smiled, a slow, deliberate curve of her lips that made his pulse quicken. Her fingers trailed up his arms, settling on his shoulders as she arched slightly beneath him. “Exactly what I want,” she murmured, her tone soft yet certain. “I want you.”

    Her words undid him. The hesitation, the doubt he had clung to—gone. All that remained was the feel of her beneath him, the way her body molded to his, and the trust in her eyes that made him want to give her everything.

    His lips found hers again, this time with more urgency, more intent. His hand slid along her side, memorizing the curve of her waist, the warmth of her skin through the thin fabric of her shift. She responded eagerly, her fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer as her legs shifted to wrap around him.

    Cullen broke the kiss only to press his lips to her jaw, her neck, her collarbone. Each touch drew a soft sigh or a breathless whisper from her, and he reveled in the way she came alive beneath him, her focus entirely on him, just as his was entirely on her.

    “You’re relentless,” he murmured against her skin, a smile tugging at his lips even as his voice carried the weight of his admiration.

    “You love it,” she teased back, her fingers tracing the muscles of his back, her touch equal parts soothing and electrifying.

    He pulled back slightly to look at her, his golden eyes darkened with an emotion so intense it made her breath catch. “I love you,” he said, the words simple but heavy with meaning.

    Ariana smiled again, softer this time, her hands sliding up to cradle his face. “Then show me,” she whispered, her gaze locking with his. “Show me you’re here. Show me you’re mine.”

    That was all it took. Whatever weight lingered in his heart, whatever fears or doubts clawed at the edges of his mind—they fell away. In this moment, with her, nothing else mattered.

    And as he kissed her again, slow and deliberate, he let himself believe that this—this connection, this love—was enough to keep him grounded, no matter what battles lay ahead.

  • Chapter 76 – Time to Heal

    10 – 11 Justinian 9:41

    The morning sun filtered through the high windows of Skyhold, casting golden rays across the stone walls of the fortress. Ariana stood at the battlements, her arms resting on the cool stone as she watched the courtyard below. Soldiers moved in synchronized drills, villagers bustled with daily tasks, and merchants shouted over one another as they set up their makeshift stalls.

    The crisp mountain air carried the faint clatter of swords and hammers—a sound she’d always found comforting. Yet, despite the familiar rhythm, Ariana couldn’t shake the heaviness in her chest.

    Since being named Inquisitor, her days had blurred into a chaotic whirlwind of decisions and expectations. Each morning seemed to bring new responsibilities, and she was still trying to figure out how to carry the weight of it all.

    She sighed softly, running a hand through her hair. The deference others now showed her, the bows and titles—it all felt surreal. Unnatural.

    “It’s like they’ve forgotten I’m just me,” she muttered to herself.

    “Talking to yourself now?” a familiar voice called from behind her, light with amusement.

    Ariana turned to see Cullen approaching, his expression equal parts bemusement and concern. His armor gleamed faintly in the sunlight, but it was the steady warmth in his hazel eyes that drew her attention.

    “More like trying to sort out my thoughts,” she replied lightly, though a hint of weariness lingered beneath her words. She tilted her head, her brow furrowing slightly. “You left early this morning.”

    Cullen nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “I promised a recruit I’d help him with something. He’s been struggling with his footwork, but I’ll give him credit—he’s determined.”

    “That sounds like you,” Ariana said with a soft laugh. “If you need help, send him to Elliott. Maker knows how nervous he was when he first joined us. He was so nervous riding with me that he almost fell off his horse before we even made it to Redcliffe.”

    Her laughter brightened the morning air, and Cullen chuckled at the memory. But her gaze drifted back to the courtyard, her smile fading as her thoughts turned inward again. The weight of her new role settled heavily on her shoulders, a constant reminder of how much her life had changed.

    As if sensing her unease, Cullen stepped closer, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Ari, are you alright?”

    “I don’t know,” she admitted softly, her eyes fixed on the training yard below. “I just feel… more at home down there than I do in the war room. Watching, strategizing, planning—it’s not me. I’d rather be down there, training with them, helping them get better.”

    Cullen was quiet for a moment, listening as she continued.

    “There was this one time in Kirkwall,” she said with a faint smile, her tone lighter. “Lamberto asked me to help him teach the recruits some basics. I’d just walked into the warehouse, hadn’t even set down my things yet, and he was already barking at me to demonstrate something. So I did. I showed them the basics—and then, well, I might’ve kicked his ass in front of everyone.” She laughed softly at the memory.

    Cullen’s laugh joined hers, warm and genuine. “If that’s what you want to do, Ari, then go do it. I won’t stop you from training the recruits. Maker knows most of them could use the help.”

    Ariana blinked, turning to look at him. His response caught her off guard. For a moment, she held his gaze, her thoughts spinning. Can I really do that?

    “Do… do you mean it?” she asked cautiously.

    Cullen chuckled, his hand brushing lightly against her arm. “Ari, love, you don’t need my permission. You’re the Inquisitor. If you want to spend your mornings in the training yard, then do that. If you want to spend your time with Riley and the Rangers, organizing missions, then do that. The Inquisition will follow you, whoever you choose to be and however you choose to lead.”

    His words settled over her like the morning sun, warming her in a way she hadn’t expected. She smiled, the truth of his words beginning to take root in her heart.

    “But what if I’d like my Commander training with me instead?” she asked, a playful glint in her eyes as she bit her lip.

    Cullen shook his head, laughing softly. “Then I will be there,” he promised, leaning in to kiss her.

    Ariana responded without hesitation, wrapping her arms around him. For the first time in days, she felt the weight on her shoulders ease. She realized then that she didn’t need to separate herself from the White Wolf or the life she had led before. The Inquisitor could be all of that and more.

    When they pulled apart, she rested her forehead against his. “Thank you, Cullen. For everything.”

    “You never need to thank me, love,” he said, his voice soft. “I’m here. Whatever you need.”

    Ariana smiled faintly, savoring the quiet moment between them. But reality intruded, as it always did. “Are you ready to head to the war room? I’m sure Leliana and Josephine have been debating since dawn which matter is most urgent.”

    “Of course they have,” Cullen said with a smirk. “And you? Do you have a preference?”

    She raised an eyebrow, hopeful. “Do you have something actionable for me?”

    Cullen sighed, his smile turning rueful. “I do, though I’m not sure you’ll like it.”

    “Of course not,” she said with a groan, though the sincerity in his tone brought a faint smile to her lips. “Alright, Commander. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

    As they walked together toward the war room, Ariana greeted soldiers and villagers along the way. For the first time, the bows and respectful murmurs didn’t feel as heavy. The doubts she had carried since her naming ceremony began to ease, piece by piece.

    If they had chosen her to be their Inquisitor, then she would be who she had always been.

    She wasn’t giving up the White Wolf or the life she loved. She was finding a way to carry it all—and for the first time, she believed she could.

    ~~~

    By the time Ariana and Cullen entered the war room, Leliana, and Josephine were already gathered around the massive map of Thedas that dominated the table. Markers and notes cluttered its surface, denoting areas of unrest, ongoing missions, and critical concerns. The advisors straightened as she approached, their expressions a mix of anticipation and determination.

    “All right, what do we have today?” Ariana asked, leaning against the edge of the table.

    Cullen started first, his tone steady but grim. “We’ve located the soldiers who went missing in the Fallow Mire. Fortunately, they’re alive… for now.”

    Ariana’s brow arched, bracing herself for the inevitable caveat. “Why do I sense a ‘but’ coming?”

    Cullen exhaled heavily, his expression tightening. “They’re being held hostage by Avvar. Their leader demands to meet with the ‘Herald of Andraste’ if we want to see them released.”

    Pinching the bridge of her nose, Ariana let out a frustrated sigh. “Please tell me they aren’t expecting me to appear tomorrow. That’s at least a seven-day ride—and that’s if I ride like I’ve got a dragon on my heels.”

    “They haven’t given a specific deadline for your arrival,” Cullen assured her. “We can send word that you’re on your way. That should buy us time.”

    “Fine,” she said with a resigned nod. “Send the message. I’ll leave at first light.”

    Leliana stepped in next, her voice carrying the clipped precision of someone accustomed to delivering unwelcome news. “There’s also a request from Varric. He believes a Formari mage might be able to improve Bianca.”

    Ariana’s gaze sharpened. “And what’s the catch?”

    “Not exactly a catch,” Leliana replied, her tone measured. “The mage specialized in siege engines, which could prove valuable to us. But given the chaos of the rebellion, it’s possible this lead will lead nowhere.”

    Ariana sighed, crossing her arms. “Do you think it’s worth pursuing?”

    Leliana’s lips quirked slightly. “The potential gain outweighs the cost, I think. But Varric may need to temper his expectations.”

    “Fine. Send the agents,” Ariana said, waving a hand. “What else?”

    Josephine lifted an envelope from the table, her expression curious. “We’ve received a letter from Prince Sebastian Vael. He—”

    “Sebastian!” Ariana interrupted, reaching eagerly for the letter. Breaking the seal, she scanned its contents, a soft smile spreading across her face.

    Josephine tilted her head, intrigued. “You know the prince personally?”

    Ariana nodded, still reading. “We met through Hawke. He stayed with us for a while after leaving Kirkwall. We even found out we might be distantly related. We spent weeks digging through records, though we never confirmed it.”

    “What does he say?” Leliana asked, her curiosity piqued.

    “He’s offering Starkhaven’s alliance to the Inquisition,” Ariana said, her voice carrying a mix of pride and affection. “He reclaimed the throne, just like he said he would. And now… now he’s keeping his word.”

    Josephine smiled warmly. “I had planned to send emissaries to respond.”

    “Do,” Ariana replied. “I’ll add a personal letter to go with them. You’ll have it before I leave.”

    “Of course, Inquisitor,” Josephine said with a nod.

    As the discussion wound down, Ariana glanced around the room. “Anything else I need to know before tomorrow?”

    Cullen gestured toward the map. “Nothing that can’t wait.”

    With a nod, Ariana pushed away from the table. “Then I trust you all to handle things while I’m gone. Keep me updated.”

    As the advisors began to disperse, Cullen lingered, his gaze following Ariana as she tucked Sebastian’s letter into her pocket. Once the room had emptied, he stepped closer, his voice softer, more personal.

    “Inquisitor Trevelyan,” he said, his lips quirking into a wry smile. “Still not used to it, are you?”

    Ariana groaned, leaning against the table. “Not you too. Don’t you know better, Cullen?”

    He chuckled, closing the distance between them. His hands rested on the table, one on either side of her, effectively trapping her in place. “It’s precisely because I know better, Inquisitor,” he murmured, his tone dipping low.

    The way he said it sent a shiver down her spine, catching her completely off guard. For a moment, she forgot her retort, her sharp mind faltering as she stared up at him.

    “Cullen…” she began, though her voice was far less steady than she intended. “You’re—”

    “Distracting?” he finished, his smirk widening as he leaned closer.

    “Infuriating,” she corrected, though her tone lacked conviction. She bit her lip, trying and failing to suppress the smile tugging at her mouth. “And distracting.”

    “Forgive me,” he said, his voice rich with playful insinuation. “I hadn’t realized.”

    Before she could counter, he kissed her, the intensity of it stealing her breath. Her arms slid instinctively around his neck, pulling him closer as she lost herself in him. The weeks of strain, of sleepless nights and unspoken fears, melted away in that moment.

    When they finally broke apart, her breathing was uneven, her lips tingling. “Careful, Commander,” she teased, her voice husky. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”

    “Am I?” he asked, his tone low, his eyes dark with longing. “Forgive me again, Inquisitor.”

    Ariana’s laugh was soft, her hands resting against his chest as she looked up at him. “You’re impossible.”

    “And yet you agreed to marry me,” Cullen replied without hesitation, his expression softening as he brushed a strand of hair from her face.

    Her smile faltered slightly, replaced by something more vulnerable. “I did,” she said quietly. “And I hate leaving you. But we’ll finish this later. I promise.”

    Cullen nodded, his jaw tightening as he stepped back reluctantly. “I’ll hold you to that.”

    As Ariana turned to leave, she glanced back over her shoulder, her voice carrying a teasing lilt. “Meet me in the tavern tonight, Commander. I have an idea.”

    Cullen’s smirk returned, though his gaze remained warm and steady. “I’ll be there.”

    ~~~

    The tavern was alive with the hum of conversation, the clink of tankards, and the occasional burst of laughter. Cullen paused just inside the door, scanning the room until his gaze landed on Ariana. She sat at a table near the center, surrounded by Riley, Hawke, Valentina, and Lamberto, all of them deep into a game of Wicked Grace. Judging by the pile of coins in the middle of the table and the smirks on their faces, things had already gotten competitive.

    His lips twitched into a smile as he watched her. There was an ease to her posture, her head tilted slightly as she exchanged quips with Riley. She seemed lighter tonight, more herself. Cullen couldn’t deny how deeply attractive she was when she was like this—confident, teasing, and completely in her element. But beyond that, it brought him relief to see her like this after the past few days of tension and self-doubt.

    He approached just as Hawke slammed a card down with dramatic flair. “Full company!” she declared, grinning smugly as she leaned back in her chair.

    Riley groaned, tossing her cards onto the table. “Maker’s breath, you’re cheating.”

    “Don’t hate the player,” Hawke quipped, scooping the winnings into her pile. “Hate your terrible bluffing skills.”

    “Don’t let her fool you,” Ariana chimed in, her voice light with laughter. “She’s bluffing half the time too.”

    Hawke shot her a mock glare. “Careful, Inquisitor, or I’ll start gunning for your pile next.”

    Riley snorted. “Good luck with that. Wolf doesn’t lose easily.”

    Ariana’s gaze shifted, catching Cullen as he approached. She motioned to the empty chair beside her, her lips curving into a playful smile. “What do you think, Commander? Do you think you can take me?”

    The double meaning wasn’t lost on him, and he chuckled, shaking his head as he slid into the seat next to her. “I’m afraid I’m not much of a card player.”

    “That just makes it easier for us,” Valentina quipped, shuffling the deck with quick, practiced movements.

    Riley smirked, tossing another coin into the pot. “Come on, Commander. Don’t be shy. We’ll take it easy on you. For the first hand.”

    “I doubt that,” Cullen said dryly, though he leaned closer to Ariana, their shoulders brushing. She glanced at him, her smirk softening into something quieter, more personal, before the game resumed.

    The group’s banter was relentless, the kind of teasing camaraderie Cullen recognized from his own days as a recruit. Hawke and Riley each won a few rounds, though Ariana’s ability to keep her cards—and her intentions—hidden was unmatched. Cullen folded more often than not, content to observe the dynamics at the table. He couldn’t help but admire how natural Ariana was here, laughing and goading Riley with a mischievous quirk of her brow. She wasn’t the weight-of-the-world Inquisitor tonight—she was her. And Maker, she was captivating.

    On the final hand, Riley, Hawke, and Ariana all grinned like wolves sizing up prey. Lamberto groaned, folding his cards. “I know better than to get between the three of you.”

    Cullen followed suit, placing his cards facedown. “I’ll take the honorable retreat.”

    The three women exchanged competitive glances before revealing their cards one by one. Hawke had a strong hand, and Riley’s was even better. But when Ariana laid her cards on the table, Riley groaned loudly.

    “Damn it,” Riley muttered, throwing her cards down. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

    Ariana’s sly grin was entirely unapologetic. “I’m not. And I hate to disappoint, but I’m not giving you another chance to win your money back tonight.”

    “Coward,” Hawke teased, echoing Ariana’s earlier jab.

    Ariana stood, tucking her coins into her pouch as she prepared to leave. “Call it whatever you want. I’ve got better plans for the rest of my night.”

    The silence at the table lasted all of two seconds before Riley smirked, leaning back with arms crossed. “Oh, we see that, Wolf. Don’t even pretend that wasn’t meant to be obvious.”

    “Oh, Maker, she was just waiting to win before she left!” Hawke exclaimed, laughing. “Ari, you can’t just drop a line like that and not expect us to notice.”

    Ariana rolled her eyes, but her cheeks flushed faintly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, feigning innocence as she adjusted her pouch.

    Cullen sighed, rubbing his temples, but he couldn’t hide his amusement—or the way his pulse quickened when she turned her knowing smirk on him. She was clearly enjoying herself, and despite the teasing, he was happy to see her like this. Her confidence, her boldness—it was intoxicating, but more than that, it was proof that the weight she carried hadn’t crushed her. If anything, it made her shine brighter.

    “Well, Commander, it certainly looks like you weren’t expecting that,” Lamberto said, gesturing toward Ariana.

    Cullen cleared his throat, glancing at her. “She does like keeping me on my toes.”

    Hawke leaned forward, elbows on the table and eyes gleaming with mischief. “Commander, are you really going to let her lead you out of here like that? You’re not even going to pretend to put up a fight?”

    Riley snorted, tossing a coin into the pile. “Oh, come on, Hawke. You’d follow her too, and we all know it.”

    “I mean, fair,” Hawke admitted with a shrug. “But I’d make it look like it was my idea.”

    Ariana shook her head, grinning. “Riley would follow me too, and she wouldn’t even pretend it was her idea.”

    “It’s true, Riley would follow in a heartbeat,” Valentina said with a smirk, raising her drink in mock salute.

    Riley groaned. “Andraste’s ass, there’s not a person in this tavern who wouldn’t follow her if she said it like that.

    Ariana laughed, turning to Cullen as she motioned toward the door. “Come on, Commander. Let’s leave them to their terrible hands and worse jokes.”

    Cullen rose, nodding to the group. “Try not to lose too much more money while we’re gone.”

    “Oh, we’ll be fine,” Riley said, smirking. “The real question is whether you’ll survive the night.”

    Cullen chuckled softly, placing his hand on the small of Ariana’s back as they made their way out. The teasing laughter followed them into the night, but as she led him toward the battlements, her steps confident and purposeful, he realized he didn’t care. Not tonight.

    ~~~

    Ariana led him out of the tavern and across the courtyard, her steps purposeful. They ascended the battlements near the main gate, eventually stopping at a tower Cullen didn’t recognize. She opened the door and gestured for him to follow her inside.

    “What is this place?” he asked, glancing around. The room was sparsely furnished with an old desk and several dusty bookshelves, though Ariana had clearly tidied it up.

    “I found it while exploring,” she said casually, walking over to the ladder at the far end of the room. “Seems like it used to be someone’s office. But that’s not the best part.” She climbed the ladder, her voice floating down to him. “Come on.”

    Cullen followed her up, emerging into what had once been someone’s quarters. It was small but cozy, with a bed tucked into the corner and a few candles providing a warm glow. The flickering light cast playful shadows on the walls, softening the sharp edges of the stone. To his surprise, the space had been meticulously cleaned and arranged, with fresh blankets on the bed and a few personal touches—a book on the nightstand, a lantern by the window.

    Cullen laughed softly, shaking his head as he took in the sight. “You’ve been busy.”

    “I didn’t think our tent offered enough privacy,” Ariana said, her tone light but her meaning unmistakable. Her gaze met his, a playful glint in her eyes. “Didn’t think you’d mind?”

    “Not at all,” Cullen said, his voice low as he stepped closer. “So, is this what you spent all day doing?”

    “Maybe,” she teased, tilting her head. “Are you complaining?”

    His response was immediate, a soft laugh escaping as he closed the space between them. His hands found her waist, pulling her flush against him. “Not at all.”

    Before she could say anything else, he swept her off her feet, her laughter turning into a surprised gasp as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He carried her to the bed, laying her down gently before leaning over her, his amber eyes dark with a mix of affection and desire.

    Ariana’s lips curved into a mischievous smile as she tugged him down toward her. “I thought you might appreciate a quieter spot to finish what we started earlier.”

    Cullen’s laughter was low, his breath warm against her skin. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

    “Of course,” she said with a grin, her voice teasing. “But I don’t mind hearing it again.”

    As he leaned in and kissed her, Cullen couldn’t help but feel the sharp edge of tomorrow pressing against the moment. She was leaving—again. She had just returned to him, and now she would be gone, riding into a world that was still reeling from Haven’s destruction, still dangerous and unpredictable.

    He knew his fear was irrational. Ariana had proven herself time and again—she was strong, capable, and resilient. But the memory of her bruised and battered, finding her in the aftermath of Haven, was burned into his mind. The thought of her riding away without him, of something happening to her while he was here—powerless to protect her—made his chest tighten painfully.

    As he leaned over her, his hands bracing the bed on either side of her, he felt the weight of all the words he could not say. The things he wanted to tell her—to beg her to stay, to let him go with her, to promise she would come back—remained lodged in his throat. Instead, he let his lips find hers again, pouring every unspoken fear and longing into the kiss.

    Her fingers tangled in his hair, her touch grounding him as his body pressed against hers. Ariana’s warmth, her laughter, her steady strength—it was all here, in this room, in this moment. But tomorrow, she would be gone. And Cullen wasn’t sure how to reconcile the knot of fear in his chest with the love he felt for her.

    “You don’t have to worry so much, you know,” she whispered against his lips, as though she could read the tension in his body, the thoughts swirling in his head.

    Cullen pulled back just enough to look at her, his amber eyes meeting her hazel-green gaze. “You say that like it’s easy,” he said softly, his voice rough with emotion.

    Her smile turned mischievous, and before he could say anything else, she kissed him. It was bold and unhesitating, her lips moving against his with a confidence that left no room for doubt. Cullen’s breath caught, his hands instinctively pulling her closer as she deepened the kiss, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

    When they finally broke apart, he was breathing harder than he realized, and she was watching him with a smugness that made him both want to laugh and kiss her senseless.

    “You’re not going to think about tomorrow tonight,” she said firmly, her voice softer now but no less sure. “That’s an order, Commander.”

    Cullen chuckled, his hands sliding up to frame her face. “Oh, so you’re in charge now?” he teased, though the low rasp in his voice betrayed how much she had already undone him.

    Ariana’s grin widened. “Absolutely,” she said, leaning in to brush her lips against his jaw, her voice dropping to a whisper. “And you’re going to do exactly what I say.”

    Her hands slid lower, tugging at the edge of his shirt, and Cullen groaned softly as she began to undress him with a kind of deliberate slowness that was both maddening and intoxicating. The teasing curve of her lips told him she was enjoying this, savoring his reactions as much as he savored her touch.

    When flipped him back onto the bed, straddling his hips, Cullen let her, his body responding instantly to the warmth of her pressed against him. Her boldness had always drawn him to her, and tonight, that confidence burned brighter than ever.

    But as much as he admired the way she took control, something inside him wouldn’t let her keep it—not tonight. Not when every kiss, every touch, reminded him how easily she could be taken away.

    When she leaned down, her lips brushing against his neck, her teeth grazing the sensitive skin just below his ear, Cullen’s hands tightened on her hips. A growl escaped him, low and deep in his throat, and before she could react, he shifted his weight, flipping her onto her back with a suddenness that made her gasp.

    Ariana’s wide hazel-green eyes locked onto his, her surprise quickly melting into a slow, mischievous smile. “Oh?” she said, her voice breathless but still laced with that bold, teasing edge. “Decided you’ve had enough of my orders, Commander?”

    Cullen braced himself above her, his golden eyes dark and intent as they roamed over her flushed face, her tousled hair, the way her body curved beneath him. “I’ve had enough of letting you think you’re in control,” he murmured, his voice low and rough with desire.

    Her smile widened, her hands sliding up his arms to rest on his shoulders. “Is that so?”

    “Very,” he replied, leaning down until his lips were a breath away from hers. “And now, Inquisitor, I’m going to show you exactly what you mean to me.”

    His kiss was hard, deep, and unrelenting, leaving no room for Ariana’s teasing to resurface. Cullen poured everything he felt into the kiss—the love, the fear, the overwhelming need to remind her she wasn’t just his Inquisitor, wasn’t just the leader of the Silver Rangers. She was his.

    Ariana’s boldness faltered under the weight of his intensity, her teasing smile replaced by a soft gasp as his lips left hers, trailing down her jaw, her neck, the curve of her shoulder. Cullen wasn’t gentle, not entirely. His touch was firm, deliberate, as though he wanted to mark her, to imprint this moment onto her skin so she would carry it with her when she left.

    Her hands slid to his back, her nails digging in slightly as his lips found the sensitive spot just below her collarbone. She arched beneath him, her breath hitching as he pressed his weight against her, holding her in place.

    “Cullen,” she murmured, her voice softer now, almost pleading.

    He lifted his head, his amber eyes meeting hers, and the vulnerability he saw there made his chest tighten. “I’ve let you lead, Ariana,” he said, his voice low but steady. “But tonight, I need you to let me take care of you.”

    Her gaze softened, her fingers brushing against his cheek. “You already do,” she whispered.

    But Cullen shook his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Not like this,” he said, his tone tinged with something darker, something that made her shiver.

    He kissed her again, slower this time, his hands roaming her body with a deliberateness that left no inch of her unexplored. She was used to guiding him, to teasing him, but now, it was her turn to be undone.

    Cullen’s touch was firm yet tender, his lips trailing over her skin in a way that made her gasp and tremble beneath him. He moved with purpose, his hands gripping her hips as though grounding her, his kisses leaving a trail of heat that sent her heart racing.

    When she tried to take control again, shifting her weight to push him back, Cullen’s hand caught hers, pinning it above her head as his lips curved into a rare, roguish smile. “Not this time,” he said softly, his voice laced with amusement. “Tonight, you’re mine.”

    Ariana’s breath hitched, her body arching beneath him as he continued his slow, deliberate assault on her senses. He was meticulous, every touch, every move, and every kiss designed to make her lose herself, to forget everything but him. And it worked.

    She whispered his name, her voice raw and pleading, and Cullen responded with a soft groan, his hands tightening on her hips as he claimed her in a way that left no room for doubt. This wasn’t just about passion—it was about love, about grounding her as much as she grounded him, about showing her how much she meant to him.

    The hours blurred into each other, a haze of whispered names, shared laughter, and the kind of intimacy that left them both feeling raw and whole all at once.

    By the time the faint glow of twilight began to creep through the window, the night had nearly given way to morning. Cullen lay tangled with her in the sheets, his body pleasantly sore and his mind uncharacteristically quiet. The fire had long since burned low, leaving only embers to warm the room, but the heat of her beside him was all he needed.

    Ariana rested against his chest, her breath soft and even, the boldness she had carried through the night now replaced with a tranquil contentment. He brushed his fingers gently through her hair, reluctant to let the moment slip away, even as the light outside grew steadily stronger.

    “We’ll only have an hour or so before the sun rises,” he murmured, his voice low, more to himself than to her.

    Her lips curved faintly against his skin, her voice barely above a whisper. “Then I suppose we’ll just have to make it count.”

    ~~~

    Cullen woke just as dawn broke through, disoriented for a moment by the unfamiliar surroundings of the room Ariana had found for them. The faint light of the rising sun seeped through the small window, casting a soft glow over the space. His gaze shifted to her, still asleep beside him, her back pressed against his chest. One arm was draped across her waist, and he tightened it slightly, savoring the quiet warmth of her presence.

    For a while, he simply watched her. Her face, so often set with determination, was softened in sleep, her features peaceful and unguarded. Maker, how long had it been since they’d had even this small reprieve? His hand moved almost without thought, tracing idle patterns along her stomach, as if grounding himself in the reality of her presence.

    The night before had given him a sense of relief he hadn’t felt in weeks. But now, with the dawn creeping in, the weight of the day ahead pressed heavily on him. She was leaving again. And if he was honest with himself, he wasn’t ready for it.

    “Not yet,” he whispered, leaning down to press a kiss to her shoulder. The words slipped out before he could stop them, his voice barely audible even to himself.

    Ariana stirred lightly, turning in his arms to face him. Her head nestled against his chest, her eyes still closed as she muttered groggily, “What are you overthinking this time?”

    “Nothing you need to worry about, love,” he replied softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Her breathing steadied again as she drifted back to sleep, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

    The image of her atop the trebuchet in Haven surfaced unbidden, as it always did. The snow had started to fall then, thick and relentless, and he’d watched in horror as she stayed behind to trigger the avalanche. He remembered the unbearable hours that followed—wondering if she’d survived, not knowing if he’d lost her. That fear had never fully left him, even as they rebuilt and pressed on. And now, as she prepared to ride out again, it surged anew, twisting in his chest.

    When she finally stirred again, the first rays of light spilling through the window, she stretched lazily before blinking up at him. “Good morning,” she murmured, her voice still thick with sleep.

    “Morning,” Cullen replied, his hand now tracing absent shapes along her arm and shoulder. He was memorizing the way her skin felt under his fingertips, as though he could hold onto this moment just a little longer.

    She sighed softly, her lips curving into a faint smile. But then, as if remembering the day ahead, she said, “I should get going.”

    Cullen tightened his hold on her, his voice low but earnest as he admitted, “I’m not ready to let you go, Ari. After Haven… how do we even know that—”

    She silenced him with a kiss, soft and gentle, still carrying the warmth of sleep. He didn’t resist, letting the comfort of her lips quiet the turmoil in his mind.

    When she finally pulled back, her voice was a whisper against his lips. “We don’t,” she said simply. “I can’t promise you any certainty that it’s safe beyond these walls. But we still have work to do. A world to save.”

    Her words were steady, but they didn’t ease the tightness in his chest. He exhaled slowly, nodding despite the unease that lingered. He knew she couldn’t stay—not when there were lives to save and battles to fight. But knowing didn’t make it easier.

    She kissed him again, lingering a moment longer before slipping out of bed to get dressed. Cullen stayed where he was, propped on one elbow as he watched her move about the room. There was a quiet efficiency to her movements, but her eyes held a flicker of something—hesitation, perhaps, or the weight of what lay ahead.

    By the time she made her way down to the main gate, Cullen had donned his armor and joined her to see her off. The cold morning air bit at his skin as he stood by the gate, watching as Cassandra, Iron Bull, and Dorian joined her one by one. They exchanged brief words, their tones calm and practical, though the tension in the air was palpable.

    Ariana mounted her horse with practiced ease, her posture composed, her expression serene. She glanced up toward the battlements where Cullen stood, their eyes meeting across the distance. For a moment, the noise of the world around him seemed to fade. She offered him a small, reassuring smile, and he couldn’t help but return it, though the weight in his chest only grew heavier.

    As the group began their slow trek out of Skyhold, Cullen’s gaze remained fixed on her. Each step her horse took away from the gates felt like a knife twisting in his gut. He trusted her completely—her skill, her instincts—but that trust didn’t quiet the fear that coiled in his chest. She was riding into danger, and he couldn’t follow. Not this time.

    When they finally disappeared down the mountain pass, Cullen let out a shaky breath, his grip tightening on the cold stone of the battlement. A sinking feeling settled in his stomach, one he couldn’t shake.

    Turning away from the edge, he murmured a prayer under his breath. “Andraste, guide her steps… and bring her back to me.”

    ~~~

    The morning was well underway when Varric strolled into the main hall of Skyhold, Bianca slung casually over his back. He hadn’t been able to find Ariana anywhere in the usual spots—the tavern, the war room, the battlements. After his conversation with Hawke a few days ago, he was ready to start setting their apology plan in motion, but that required finding Ariana first.

    “Where the hell is she?” he muttered to himself as he walked the battlements toward the tower where a soldier had told him he could find Cullen. If anyone kept more tabs on Ariana than he did, it was Cullen. That man was nothing if not thorough where Ariana was concerned.

    The door to the tower was partially ajar, and Varric stepped inside finding Cullen poring over a pile of reports already stacked on the desk. The makeshift office was still sparse, but it was clear Ariana’s hand had been at work—bookshelves had been dusted, the desk cleaned and organized, and a few personal touches added. Cullen didn’t look up at first, so Varric cleared his throat.

    “Commander,” he said, his tone light but carrying just enough weight to grab Cullen’s attention. “You got a minute?”

    Cullen glanced up, surprised but not unwelcoming. “Varric. What can I do for you?”

    “I’m looking for Ariana,” Varric said, stepping further into the room. “Figured she might be with you or at least within shouting distance.”

    Cullen’s brow furrowed slightly, and he leaned back in his chair. “She left this morning,” he said, his tone carrying a hint of confusion. “For the Fallow Mire. She won’t be back for a couple of weeks.”

    Varric froze, the words hitting him harder than he expected. “She left?” he repeated, his voice quieter now. “And didn’t tell me?”

    Cullen studied him for a moment, the tension in Varric’s expression clear. “She decided it yesterday,” he said cautiously. “She has to go rescue a group of soldiers being held hostage by some Avvar demanding to meet the ‘Herald of Andraste’… did she not tell you?”

    “No,” Varric muttered, his shoulders slumping slightly. He glanced at the ground, his mind racing. She didn’t even bother to tell me she was leaving. Damn it, I really screwed this up.

    Cullen seemed to pick up on his turmoil, and his tone softened. “She’s hurt, Varric. But she just needs time.”

    “Time, huh?” Varric said bitterly, his gaze still fixed on the floor. “Doesn’t feel like time’s gonna fix this.”

    Cullen stood, walking around the desk to stand closer. “She’s not angry because of what you did, Varric. She’s hurt because she doesn’t understand why. Ariana trusts you—trusted you more than anyone else in her life. And when you didn’t trust her in return, it made her question everything.”

    Varric looked up, meeting Cullen’s steady gaze. “You think she’ll forgive me?”

    Cullen’s expression softened further, his voice carrying a quiet certainty. “I know she will. She needs you, Varric. But you have to earn back her trust. Do whatever it takes.”

    Varric nodded slowly, the weight of Cullen’s words settling over him. “Thanks, Commander,” he said quietly. “And for the record, I know I’ve got my work cut out for me.”

    Cullen gave him a faint smile, clapping him once on the shoulder before returning to his desk. Varric turned to leave, his mind already thinking back to how to adjust the plan him and Hawke had come up with as descended the tower steps.

    Varric found Hawke in one of the tavern, lounging on a chair with a book in hand. She glanced up as he entered, a knowing smirk spreading across her face. “Judging by the look on your face, you finally figured out what ‘mad as a hornet’ really means.”

    “She didn’t tell me she was leaving,” Varric said bluntly, leaning against the doorframe.

    Hawke’s smirk faltered slightly. “She mentioned it last night. When we were playing cards.”

    “She told you?” Varric asked, his voice rising slightly with incredulity.

    “She mentioned it offhand,” Hawke replied, shrugging. “Something about leaving for the Mire at first light. I assumed you knew.”

    “Well, I didn’t,” Varric muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. “She didn’t even bother to tell me. Guess that says a lot.”

    Hawke closed the book, leaning forward with a serious expression. “It says she’s hurt, Varric. But you already knew that. What matters now is what you’re going to do about it.”

    “Well, I might need to adjust our plan a bit,” Varric said, though his voice lacked its usual confidence. “Working on the apology. You know, the whole grand gesture thing.”

    Hawke’s brows lifted slightly. “And?”

    “And it’s a work in progress,” Varric admitted. “I was hoping to give her something today. A first step.”

    “Well, now you’ve got time,” Hawke said firmly. “She’s gone for at least a couple of weeks. Use it. Get the apology perfect. And don’t come back to me until you’ve got a draft ready for review.”

    Varric sighed, though he couldn’t help the faint smile tugging at his lips. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

    Hawke grinned, leaning back in her chair. “What can I say? You’ve got a lot to make up for, and I happen to enjoy watching you squirm. Now get to work.”

    Shaking his head but unable to suppress a chuckle, Varric turned to leave. “Alright, Hawke. I’ll be back with something before the day’s out.”

    “Good,” Hawke called after him. “And Varric? Make it count.”

  • Chapter 73 – A Renewed Purpose

    24 Bloomingtide 9:41

    Cullen carried Ariana through the snow, the weight of her limp body far less heavy than the storm of emotions surging within him. Relief, fear, and disbelief warred for dominance as he looked down at her pale face, her dark hair streaked with frost and matted with snow. Her breathing was shallow, each faint exhale a fragile thread tethering her to life.

    Riley caught up to him, her boots crunching through the snow as she matched his pace. Her gaze fixed on Ariana, and her lips trembled as she pressed a trembling hand to Ariana’s forehead. “She’s so cold… but she’s alive,” Riley murmured, her voice cracking under the weight of her relief. She cupped Ariana’s face, her thumb brushing over her cheek, before leaning her forehead gently against hers. “Maker forgive me, but I swear I’m going to kill you when you wake up,” she whispered, her tone a fragile mix of affection and frustration.

    Pulling back, Riley looked up at Cullen with tears glistening in her eyes, a faint, shaky smile breaking through her disbelief. “I told you she’d make it.”

    Cullen let out a small, breathless laugh, though the sound was laced with tension and frayed nerves. “That you did, Lieutenant. Thank you.” His voice softened as his gaze returned to Ariana, his expression raw. “Let’s get her to the healers. She’s hurt… I think her ribs are broken. She flinched when I picked her up.”

    Riley nodded, falling into step beside him. “She’ll pull through. She has to.” Her words carried a fierce determination, but the fear beneath them was unmistakable.

    The camp was a hive of frantic activity, its flickering fires casting warm halos against the swirling remnants of the storm. Soldiers and villagers moved with purpose, their breaths visible in the cold air. Cullen barely registered the chaos, his focus singular. A Ranger pointed them toward a larger tent where Grand Enchanter Fiona and Mother Giselle waited, their calm, steady presence grounding amidst the whirlwind.

    “Lay her down, Commander,” Fiona instructed, motioning to a cot. Her voice was gentle but carried an authority that brooked no argument.

    Cullen knelt carefully, lowering Ariana onto the cot as though she were made of glass. His hands lingered on her briefly before he forced himself to pull away, his heart pounding. “She was holding her side,” he said, his voice tight with worry. “Her ribs—she’s been in pain for hours. Maybe longer.”

    Fiona nodded, her hands already moving to assess Ariana’s injuries. “It’s possible her ribs are broken, but I won’t know the extent until I’ve examined her thoroughly. Whatever she’s endured, Commander, she’s strong. To make it this far… it’s remarkable.”

    Cullen’s jaw tightened as he reached for Ariana’s hand, his thumb brushing lightly against her icy skin. His voice was barely audible. “She’s stronger than anyone I’ve ever known.”

    Fiona paused briefly to glance up at him, her expression softening. “Commander, I know it’s hard, but you must let me work. Trust me—she’s in good hands. My best healers are on their way. We’ll take care of her.”

    Her words struck him like a blow, the truth of them clear. He swallowed hard and nodded, his fingers releasing Ariana’s hand reluctantly. “Please… keep me informed,” he managed, his voice tight with restrained emotion.

    “I will,” Fiona said gently. “You have my word. Now go. She needs warmth, rest, and healing—and so do you. She’ll need you when she wakes.”

    Cullen stepped out of the tent, the cold air biting at his skin, but he barely felt it. His eyes lifted to the mountains looming beyond the camp, the remnants of the storm swirling around their peaks. For the first time since Ariana had made the decision to recruit the mages, he felt truly grateful. Without their presence, their healers, her chances…

    No, he thought. I can’t think like that. She will survive this.

    He reached into his pocket, his gloved hand closing around the ring she had entrusted to him. Its weight was small, but the promise it carried felt infinite. He held it tightly, his resolve hardening with each beat of his heart.

    If you can survive this, Ariana… I swear to you, I’ll never let you go again. Whatever else we need to face, whatever we need to say… You’re mine. And I’ll make sure the world knows it. That you know it.

    The faint warmth of the fires flickered in the distance, but Cullen’s focus remained on the ring and the thought of her eyes opening again. Please, Maker. Just bring her back.

    ~~~

    The camp had settled into a tense rhythm as the night dragged on. Cullen sat outside Ariana’s tent, his shoulders hunched against the cold as he stared into the darkness beyond the campfires. The weight of responsibility pressed heavily on him, but it was nothing compared to the storm of emotions churning inside. For now, all he could do was wait.

    The ring in his gloved hand felt heavier than it should, its edges biting into his palm as he turned it over and over. He had carried her through the snow, watched Fiona work to stabilize her, and now, with Ariana’s life hanging by a thread, all that remained was hope. The thought of losing her again, after all they had endured, was almost unbearable.

    Riley approached quietly, her steps muffled by the snow. Her arms were full of blankets, and her expression was a mix of exhaustion and cautious hope. She set the blankets down beside him before speaking.

    “You should rest, Cullen,” she said softly. “It’s going to be a long day tomorrow.”

    “I can’t,” he replied, his voice low, his gaze fixed on the distant mountains. “Not while she’s still like this.”

    “She’s tough,” Riley said, her tone firm with conviction. “She’ll pull through.”

    Cullen shook his head, the guilt in his chest twisting tighter. “It wasn’t just her choice, Riley. I gave the orders. I told the soldiers to load the trebuchet, knowing what it meant.” His voice tightened. “I helped her stay behind.”

    Riley stepped closer, her tone steady but resolute. “She would’ve stayed either way. You know as well as I do—when she decides something, there’s no stopping her.”

    His fingers closed around the ring, the familiar weight grounding him. “And somehow, she survived. Again.” His gaze remained distant, his voice raw. “She believes in me—believes I’m someone worth following. But what if I’m not? What if I let her down?”

    Riley hesitated, the usual confidence in her demeanor softening for a moment. She glanced at the healer’s tent, her expression flickering with something unspoken before she looked back at him. “Cullen, do you know why I follow her? Why all of the Vanguard do?”

    He shook his head, his brow furrowing. “Because she’s strong,” he guessed, though his tone lacked conviction.

    “It’s more than that,” Riley said quietly, her voice almost reverent. “She never lets fear win. Even when she has every reason to. That’s what makes her strong, yes, but it’s also why she inspires us. She’s not just our leader, Cullen—she’s our hope. And right now, she’s placed that hope in you.”

    Cullen frowned, the weight of her words sinking in. Before he could respond, Riley pressed on, her tone firm.

    “If Wolf believes in you, then the Rangers will stand with you. No matter what you decide, no matter where this fight takes us. You’re one of the few people she trusts to protect her—and we trust her without question. That means we’ll trust you too.”

    The breath Cullen hadn’t realized he was holding left him in a slow exhale. Riley’s words were both a reassurance and a challenge, their weight settling heavily on his shoulders. He nodded slowly, though his voice was tight with emotion when he spoke. “Thank you, Riley.”

    She offered a faint, encouraging smile, her usual sharp edge returning as she added, “So don’t screw it up, Commander. She’s counting on you—and so are we.”

    Before Cullen could respond, Cassandra’s voice broke through the moment. “Cullen, we need you at the strategy meeting.”

    He hesitated, his gaze lingering on the tent where Ariana lay. Riley touched his arm briefly, her voice low.

    “She’s still here, Cullen. That’s what matters. And she’s going to be fine. I know it.”

    Her words were firm, but Cullen could see the flicker of doubt she was hiding. He nodded slowly, rising to his feet. “Thank you,” he said quietly, though the words felt insufficient.

    The strategy tent was dimly lit, the makeshift table cluttered with maps and reports, their edges curling from exposure to the cold. Leliana and Josephine were already deep in discussion, their voices low but urgent. Cassandra stood nearby, her posture rigid as she waited for Cullen to join them.

    “Any updates?” Leliana asked as Cullen entered.

    “Fiona says she’s stable,” he replied, taking a seat. “But she needs time. That’s all we can give her for now.”

    “And Haven?” Josephine asked, her voice laced with quiet despair.

    “Buried,” Cullen said bluntly. “There’s nothing left.”

    Leliana leaned over the map, tracing a narrow route to the west with her gloved finger. “The avalanche bought us time, but not much. Corypheus’s forces won’t stop just because they’ve been delayed.”

    “Then we move,” Cassandra said sharply. “We can’t afford to stay exposed here.”

    “Move where?” Josephine countered, her arms crossed. “We’ve lost too many supplies. The villagers are exhausted. Another march could break them.”

    “Then we stay and fortify,” Cassandra argued. “This pass is defensible—narrow enough to hold.”

    “With what soldiers?” Leliana interjected. “Half of them can barely stand, and the rest are frostbitten. We’d never withstand a prolonged assault.”

    “The Rangers will hold the pass,” Riley cut in, her voice steady as she entered the tent. “So long as Wolf is here, we’ll hold it to the last man.”

    Cassandra turned to her, skepticism in her tone. “Even the Rangers must be near their limit.”

    Riley smirked faintly, her confidence unwavering. “You don’t know us, Seeker. We’re tired, but we don’t give up. Not when she’s still fighting.”

    The argument continued, voices rising and falling as they debated every detail. Cullen leaned against the table, his fingers pressing into the wood. The tension was suffocating, the indecision maddening. His thoughts drifted back to Ariana, lying motionless in the healer’s tent.

    You’re the leader Thedas needs right now. Her words echoed in his mind, a quiet but insistent reminder. He clenched his fists, willing himself to believe it.

    “We need a plan,” Cullen said abruptly, his voice cutting through the noise. “Not another argument. The soldiers need orders. The villagers need direction. Staying here is not an option.”

    “And going east is?” Cassandra asked, her tone challenging.

    “It’s the only viable choice,” Cullen replied firmly. “The valley is low enough to shield us from the worst of the weather, and it gives us room to regroup and scout for resources.”

    The group fell silent, the weight of the decision settling over them. Leliana studied Cullen for a long moment before nodding. “We’ll send scouts ahead. If the valley is clear, we move.”

    Cullen nodded, though his thoughts remained heavy. As the others returned to planning, his gaze drifted once more to the healer’s tent. If I can’t believe in myself, then I’ll believe in her belief. I won’t let her down.

    Maker, give me strength—to be the man she believes I am.

    ~~~

    The voices outside were a constant, muffled by the thick canvas of the tent but unmistakable in their tension. Ariana blinked against the dim light, her vision hazy as she tried to make sense of her surroundings. Her body felt heavy, every ache and bruise screaming in protest as she shifted on the cot. The smell of herbs and faint traces of burning wood filled her nose, grounding her in the present.

    “Ah, you’re awake,” Mother Giselle’s gentle voice broke through the fog. She approached, her hands clasped tightly before her. Relief softened her features, though worry lingered in her eyes. “You shouldn’t try to move just yet. Your body needs time.”

    Ariana ignored the admonition, gritting her teeth as she pushed herself upright. Every breath was sharp and shallow, her ribs protesting the movement. “The arguing,” she croaked, her voice raspy and low. “It’s been going on for hours.”

    Giselle knelt beside her, dipping a cloth into a bowl of cool water. “The leaders have yet to reach an accord. Tensions run high, as does the uncertainty. It is… a difficult time.”

    Ariana exhaled slowly, wincing at the sharp pull in her chest. “It’s always a difficult time,” she muttered, pressing her palm against her forehead. “Don’t they realize there’s no time for this? Not now.”

    “They realize, but even the wisest minds falter when direction seems impossible to find,” Giselle said gently, handing Ariana the damp cloth. “They feel the weight of their choices as heavily as you do.”

    Ariana pressed the cloth to her face, the coolness soothing against her skin but doing little for the fire simmering inside her. She thought of Haven—the people they’d lost, the camp buried beneath snow and ash. The endless arguing felt like a betrayal to those who had sacrificed so much.

    She let the cloth fall into her lap, her gaze distant. “I thought Cullen would be the one to lead us,” she murmured. “I’ve seen him on the battlefield. He doesn’t hesitate. He knows exactly what to do.” Her tone softened, tinged with frustration. “But here…”

    Giselle tilted her head, her expression contemplative. “The Commander is certainly capable of commanding troops and making quick decisions. His soldiers trust him. But leading the Inquisition? It is not a burden he has accepted.”

    Ariana watched her for a moment, thinking through her words. She was right, of course. She admired Cullen. She had watched the way he didn’t hesitate to make a decision when Haven was under attack. There was never any second-guessing; taking control seemed as natural as breathing for him. But then, she had also watched the debates in the war room, and she had lived with him in Kirkwall. He hated politics, he hated managing personalities and diplomacy. Though he was an expert at finding diplomatic compromises, she still believed he could lead the Inquisition. But if she had to guess, he didn’t want to. Maybe she would need to push him, to make him realize he could do this. 

    If only Cullen saw himself the way I do—unflinching in battle, unyielding in his convictions. But he doesn’t want this, not the way they need someone to want it.

    Ariana frowned, her fingers absently tracing the edge of the blanket. “He doesn’t want it,” she admitted quietly. “But I believe he could do it. He could lead this.”

    Giselle gave her a measured look. “Perhaps he could. But would he?”

    The question lingered in the air, unanswered.

    “Do we even know where Corypheus is?” Ariana asked, her frustration mounting.

    “We are not entirely sure where we are,” Giselle admitted, her voice heavy. “That may be why, despite the numbers he still commands, there is no sign of him. That, or you are believed dead. Or without Haven, we are thought helpless. Or…” She paused, frowning. “Or he girds for another attack. I cannot claim to know the mind of that creature, only his effect on us.”

    Ariana sighed, her shoulders sagging. “So, we’re blind and scattered. That’s reassuring.”

    Giselle hesitated but nodded. Her gaze softened as she studied Ariana. “Our leaders struggle because of what we survivors witnessed. We saw our defender stand… and fall. And now, we have seen her return.”

    Ariana frowned, standing up before responding. “I didn’t die, Mother Giselle. Barely escaped, maybe. But I didn’t die.”

    “Of course, and the dead cannot return from across the Veil,” Giselle replied, her tone calm, almost soothing. “But the people know what they saw. Or perhaps, what they needed to see. The Maker works both in the moment and in how it is remembered. Can we truly know the heavens are not with us?”

    Ariana shook her head slowly, her fingers brushing against the mark on her hand as it flickered faintly. “I don’t believe in miracles, Mother Giselle. I believe in fate, maybe. That it wasn’t my time. But a miracle?” Her voice softened, though a bitter edge lingered. “No. I survived because I had no other choice.” Because I had orders the thought made her smile faintly.

    “And yet you are here,” Giselle said softly. “Whether by fate or by sheer will, you endured. That alone gives people hope.”

    Hope. The word lingered in Ariana’s mind, tangled with the weight of Haven’s destruction and the lives now at stake. “Hope isn’t enough to fight Corypheus,” she said after a long pause, her voice low but steady. “We can’t beat him with prayers and stories. We need plans. Action.”

    Giselle studied her, her gaze unwavering. “Plans need strength to anchor them. And you, Herald, are stronger than you realize.”

    Ariana gave a short laugh, bitter and sharp. “I’m just trying to keep everyone alive.”

    “And they see that,” Giselle said softly. “They follow you, even if you do not see yourself as their leader.”

    “I’m not their leader,” Ariana replied, her voice hard. “I’m the White Wolf. My Rangers know who I am. Out here, we protect those who can’t protect themselves. That’s it. This isn’t what I do. I don’t have to worry about political alliances or borders. I don’t have to spend my time courting nobles. We help people, we take on simple jobs that are defined. Even helping to rebuild Ferelden was a series of known tasks. The Inquisition? I don’t know what to do with that.”

    “And yet, you are more,” Giselle insisted. “You give them hope.”

    Ariana fell silent, the words weighing heavily on her. She never set out to inspire hope. But that was what the White Wolf had done for Ferelden. If she needed to do it again, she would.

    Giselle placed a hand on her shoulder, her touch warm and steady. “Leadership is rarely sought, but it is often found in those who bear the weight without realizing they carry it.” she smiled as if trying to reassure her “You should get some rest.”

    The sound of raised voices outside snapped her focus. She forced herself to her feet, ignoring Giselle’s protests. Pain rippled through her ribs, but she steadied herself against the post.

    “I’ll rest when they stop arguing,” Ariana replied. Her voice was quiet but resolute. “This has to stop.”

    She stepped outside, the cold air biting at her skin, waking her fully. The camp was alive with activity, fires flickering against the backdrop of the night. The murmur of voices and the distant crackle of tension hung heavy in the air.

    Ariana scanned the camp, her eyes narrowing as she spotted the tent where the arguing persisted. She straightened, each step sharp and deliberate as she approached.

    The Inquisition needed leadership, and if its leaders couldn’t rise to the occasion, then someone would have to remind them what they were fighting for.

    She might not be the leader they were looking for, but the White Wolf had never needed permission to do what was right.

    ~~~

    The argument continued to spiral, voices overlapping as frustration spilled into the open air.

    “What would you have me tell them?” Cullen demanded, his tone sharper than usual. “This isn’t what we asked them to do!”

    Cassandra squared her shoulders, her voice firm. “We cannot simply ignore this! We must find a way!”

    Cullen turned to her, his brow furrowing deeper, frustration tightening his features. Guilt flickered beneath his words as he added, “We need a consensus, or we’ll tear ourselves apart before we can even move forward!”

    “Please, we must use reason!” Josephine interjected, her tone placating but strained. “Without the infrastructure of the Inquisition, we’re hobbled!”

    “That can’t come from nowhere!” Cullen retorted, throwing up his hands.

    Leliana’s voice cut through, sharp and unyielding. “She didn’t say it could!”

    “Enough!” Cassandra snapped, her patience wearing thin. “This is getting us nowhere!”

    “Well, we’re agreed on that much!” Cullen shot back.

    “Could you all stop bickering and make a decision?” Ariana’s voice cut through the chaos like a blade.

    The group froze, turning to face her. They hadn’t noticed her approach, and the sight of her standing there—worn but resolute—rendered them momentarily speechless. Her gaze swept over them, sharp and unyielding, as if daring anyone to argue.

    “You’re awake,” Cullen said, relief and something deeper flashing across his face, though his tone remained steady. For a brief moment, his guarded composure seemed to crack, his eyes tracing her as if to reassure himself that she was really there.

    Ariana felt her heart skip a beat at the sight of him. Relief, guilt, and frustration swirled inside her, but she pushed it all down, focusing on the task at hand. “Didn’t have a choice,” she replied, her voice sharper than she intended. Crossing her arms despite the sharp protest from her ribs, she added, “I could hear you halfway across the camp. Do you honestly think this is helping anyone?”

    Cassandra’s expression softened slightly, though her posture remained tense. “You should be resting.”

    “And you should be leading, but here we are.” Ariana countered, her tone sharp as she turned her attention to Riley, standing off to the side of the table. “Riley, please tell me you haven’t just been sitting here watching this.”

    Riley scoffed, her arms crossed as she stepped forward. “Of course not. Who do you take me for, Wolf? Who do you think has been keeping this camp together while this lot argued and you slept?”

    The leaders all turned to Riley, their expressions a mix of surprise and embarrassment. It was as though they hadn’t noticed her presence until now.

    Ariana chuckled softly, shaking her head. “I imagine they weren’t ready for that, were they?”

    Riley grinned, her tone light but pointed. “Not even close. I’ve been running this camp since the avalanche, Wolf. Someone had to.”

    “You sure you’re up for this?” Riley added with a smirk. “You look like you just fought an avalanche. Oh, wait…”

    Ariana rolled her eyes, though a faint smirk crossed her lips. “What have you got for me?”

    Riley approached the makeshift table, gesturing at the maps. “We’ve scavenged enough food and firewood for a couple of days. Found a fresh water source and have been collecting snow. Isabel’s sorted the remaining supplies from Haven, and I’ve got scouting parties charting all potential paths. So far, nothing concrete.”

    “You have scouting parties and didn’t report to us?” Leliana interjected, her tone sharp.

    Riley shot Leliana a glare, but Ariana cut in before the exchange could escalate. “She doesn’t have anything concrete yet, and honestly, I don’t blame her for not prioritizing more of this petty back-and-forth.”

    The group exchanged uneasy glances, their expressions flickering between offense and regret.

    “Any other options? Does anyone have another plan?” Ariana asked, her tone pointed.

    Josephine stepped forward, her voice calmer now. “We’re trying to determine that, Herald. But with so much lost…”

    Ariana exhaled slowly, her patience thinning. “Then decide,” she interrupted. “This isn’t the time for endless debates. Pick a path and commit to it, or we’ll lose whatever unity we have left.”

    Her words landed heavily in the tense silence, a stark reminder of the stakes they faced. Cassandra was the first to respond, her nod sharp and deliberate. “You’re right. We need to move forward.”

    Ariana gave a curt nod, her gaze sweeping over the group. “Good. Now, what’s the plan?”

    Before anyone could answer, a calm, familiar voice interrupted. “Herald, if I may have a moment of your time?”

    Ariana turned to see Solas approaching, his expression serene yet unreadable. She sighed, motioning toward the leadership. “Think about a plan, preferably without arguing. I’ll be back.”

    She hesitated at the edge of the tent, casting a look back over her shoulder. “Riley, if they start arguing again, separate them. I don’t care how. Just make sure I don’t hear another word unless I’m standing on this crate.”

    Riley smirked, saluting playfully. “By your order, Wolf.”

    Ariana turned and followed Solas, leaving the leadership to grapple with the decisions they had long delayed. As she walked away, she allowed herself a small, fleeting smile at Riley’s unwavering confidence—proof that even in the chaos, some things remained certain.

    ~~~

    Ariana followed Solas to the edge of the camp, away from the fires and the noise of arguing voices. The blizzard had finally eased, leaving a sharp chill in the air that bit at her exposed skin. Her breaths came shallow, each one a reminder of her battered ribs, but she pushed through the discomfort. Solas walked ahead, his steps deliberate, his hands clasped behind his back. He stopped near a cluster of frost-covered rocks, his gaze fixed on the horizon, though Ariana suspected he was looking far beyond it.

    “You asked Corypheus what he was,” Solas began, his voice measured and calm, “and I suspect he gave you a rather unhelpful answer.”

    Ariana crossed her arms, the movement stiff but grounding. “You could say that. Something about being Tevinter and seeing the throne of the gods.” She hesitated, the memory of Corypheus’s orb flashing in her mind. “Then there was that orb…” Her voice trailed off as a realization dawned. “You know what it is, don’t you?”

    Solas turned his gaze to her, his expression unreadable. “The orb Corypheus carried, the power he used to open the Breach—it is Elvhen,” he said, the words heavy with meaning.

    “Elvhen?” Ariana echoed, the curiosity in her tone tempered by a flicker of wariness. She had learned to tread carefully around ancient magic, particularly when it came to Solas.

    He inclined his head, his voice low and steady. “Artifacts of my people. Foci, used to channel immense magical power. Such tools are not meant to be handled lightly, let alone by someone who does not understand their purpose. Corypheus’s use of the orb—” Solas paused, his expression darkening, “—likely caused the explosion that destroyed the Conclave. That he survived such recklessness… is troubling.”

    Ariana frowned, the weight of his words settling over her. “You’re saying the Conclave was destroyed because Corypheus didn’t know what he was doing?”

    “That, or he cared little for the consequences,” Solas replied. “The magic of Tevinter was built on the bones of the Elvhenan. It is crude, a shadow of what once was. He wields a power he cannot comprehend.”

    Her fingers brushed against the mark on her hand, its faint glow casting shadows on the snow. “And yet here I am. Alive because of that power.”

    “Perhaps,” Solas said, his tone softer now. “Or perhaps the mark chose you. There is meaning in that, though it may not yet be clear.”

    Ariana studied him, her instincts prickling. “You seem to know a lot about this, Solas. About Corypheus, the orb, and the Breach. How?”

    He met her gaze evenly, his expression as calm as ever. “The Fade holds many memories, Herald. I have walked its paths and glimpsed echoes of the past. I recognize what Corypheus carries because it is part of that past—my people’s past.”

    She exhaled, shaking her head. “I don’t have time to dwell on ancient history or what Corypheus thinks he’s entitled to. Right now, we’re barely standing. Whatever that orb is, whatever its origin, we’ll deal with it when we’re not freezing to death.”

    A faint smile touched Solas’s lips. “Pragmatic as always. And yet, pragmatism must be balanced with foresight. To ignore the threat Corypheus poses would be unwise.”

    “I’m not ignoring it,” Ariana countered, her tone firm. “I’m prioritizing. If the Inquisition collapses, there won’t be anyone left to stop him.”

    Solas inclined his head in acknowledgment. “A fair point. Which is why I sought you out. There is a place to the north—long abandoned, but waiting for a force to claim it. It is defensible, well-situated, and capable of sustaining what remains of the Inquisition. There, you could rebuild. Regrow.”

    Ariana blinked, caught off guard by the certainty in his voice. “And you know this because…?”

    Solas’s gaze drifted to the distant mountains, his expression distant. “Because I have walked many paths, Herald. Some of which others have long forgotten.”

    She considered his words, weighing them carefully. Despite the frustration she often felt in his presence, she couldn’t deny the value of his knowledge. “Thank you, Solas,” she said finally, her voice sincere. “For everything.”

    Solas inclined his head, his enigmatic expression giving away little. “I trust you will see the wisdom in what I have shared.”

    Ariana nodded once before turning back toward the camp. As she walked away, the faint glow of her mark flickered against the snow, its light steady despite the storm within her.

    Solas remained where he stood, his thoughts churning. By attacking the Inquisition, Corypheus has changed it. Changed her.

    His gaze lingered on the retreating figure of the Herald—the White Wolf, as her Rangers called her. She was unlike anyone he had encountered in centuries. Pragmatic, yes, but also deeply compassionate. She questioned without judgment, challenged without cruelty. And then there was the mark—an anomaly even he had not anticipated.

    “Perhaps there is hope after all,” he murmured to himself, turning back toward the fires. The Inquisition was fractured, but the pieces were beginning to align. Whether the world knew it or not, its fate was now entwined with hers.

    ~~~

    As Ariana reached the heart of the camp, the quiet buzz of activity surrounded her, muted by the exhaustion that clung to every movement. A sharp voice broke through the stillness, piercing and full of emotion. “Ari!”

    She turned just in time to see a small figure racing toward her. Emma flung herself into Ariana’s arms before she could brace herself, and the force of the hug sent a jolt of pain through her ribs. Ariana gritted her teeth but wrapped her arms around the girl, picking her up and holding her close despite the sharp ache radiating through her body. “Hey, cub,” she murmured softly, her voice steady. “What’s this for? You alright?”

    Emma didn’t answer right away, her little arms tightening around Ariana’s neck. “I thought you were gone,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Everyone was saying…” Her words faltered, her face buried against Ariana’s shoulder. “I was so scared.”

    Ariana’s heart clenched as she held Emma close. She adjusted her grip slightly, her ribs protesting, but she ignored the pain. “I’m not going anywhere, cub,” she said firmly. “See? I’m right here.”

    Emma hesitated, her lip quivering. “I… I talked to Cullen. About… about what I said before. About you. I…” Her voice cracked slightly, and she buried her face into Ariana’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Ari. I was mean, and it wasn’t fair. I know it’s not your fault. I don’t blame you. Cullen said it was his fault.”

    Ariana’s chest tightened further, though she quickly shifted to comfort Emma. She pulled her closer, resting her chin lightly atop Emma’s head. “Hey, listen to me,” she said, her tone low and reassuring. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for. I know it’s been hard, and I know I wasn’t always there to explain. But you didn’t do anything wrong, Emma. None of this is your fault, okay?”

    Emma sniffled, her voice breaking. “But… but I—”

    “No,” Ariana interrupted gently but firmly. “You don’t need to feel guilty for how you felt. It’s alright to be upset. It’s alright to ask questions. You’re brave, cub, braver than most people twice your size. And I’ll always love you, no matter what.”

    Emma sniffled again, a small smile breaking through her tears as she nodded. “I love you too, Ari.”

    Before Ariana could respond, a familiar voice called out from behind her. “Emma,” Cullen said, his tone warm but laced with concern as he approached. “There you are.”

    Emma glanced back at him, then turned to Ariana again, her arms tightening around her. Cullen placed his hand lightly on Emma’s back. “You should let Ari rest,” he said gently. “She’s been through a lot.”

    Emma hesitated, glancing between them. “But she’s okay, right?”

    Ariana nodded, giving her a reassuring smile. “I’m okay, cub. You don’t have to worry about me.”

    Cullen reached out, scooping Emma up into his arms with practiced ease. “Alright, let’s get you back to Isabel. She’s probably wondering where you ran off to.”

    Ariana gave him a grateful smile, adjusting her stance to hide the pain in her ribs.

    As Cullen straightened, Emma rested her head against his shoulder but cast one last look at Ariana. “Did you tell her yet?” she asked, her voice quiet but insistent.

    Cullen froze for the briefest of moments, his expression caught between surprise and something unreadable. “Tell her what?” he asked, though his voice lacked its usual confidence.

    Emma tilted her head, her gaze unwavering. “That you still love her.”

    Ariana blinked, caught off guard by the bluntness of Emma’s question. Cullen’s jaw tightened, and a faint flush crept up his neck, but he managed to keep his tone steady as he said, “I did. Now let’s go find your mom.”

    Emma sighed dramatically, her exasperation lightening the moment. “Really? Are you sure? You promise you did?”

    Ariana chuckled softly, unable to prevent the warmth that spread through her as memories of the night she returned from Redcliffe surfaced in her mind.

    Cullen glanced at Ariana, his expression softening despite his lingering embarrassment. “I promise,” he said gently.

    Ariana watched them go, as she leaned against a nearby tent post, her breathing measured as she tried to ease the lingering pain from catching Emma.

    She caught sight of Cullen returning from where he’d left Emma with Isabel, and as he approached, she straightened, already anticipating what was coming.

    Cullen didn’t waste any time. He stopped in front of her and gently took her arm, guiding her out of view of the campfire and any prying eyes. His expression was firm, but his eyes brimmed with worry. “You should be resting. They’re broken again, aren’t they?” he asked quietly, though he already knew the answer.

    Ariana sighed, rolling her shoulders back in a futile attempt to shrug it off. “One or two. Or three… It’s not important,” she replied lightly.

    “Ari.” His tone stopped her. It wasn’t just concern—it was frustration, pain, and something deeper, rawer. “It is important.”

    She hesitated, her eyes narrowing slightly, but Cullen pressed on. “Don’t tell me it’s not. I was there the last time you broke ribs. During the Qunari uprising, when you also nearly bled out while saying you were fine,” he said, his voice hard but edged with worry. “You were in bed for weeks, Ari. Weeks. You almost died.”

    Her lips parted as if to argue, but she couldn’t. He was right. She remembered that time all too well—how she had spent nearly a week in his quarters in the Gallows, waking each time to find him by her side. She remembered the weight of his worry etched into his face.

    “It’s not the same,” she muttered, though the conviction in her voice faltered. “I escaped an avalanche this time with only some broken rib–“

    “No, it’s worse,” he countered, his hands tightening slightly on her shoulders. “I helped you almost get killed this time.” He took a deep breath, his voice softening. “Ari, I can’t do this again. I can’t lose you.”

    He stepped closer, his hands settling on her shoulders as if grounding himself as much as her. “I couldn’t protect you,” he said, his voice low now. “Not in Haven, not in Kirkwall—Maker, not even when we were young during the Blight. And I’m tired of it. You’re always in danger, always bearing the brunt of everything, and I… I can’t do anything about it.”

    Her expression softened at his words, the tension in her shoulders easing as she reached up, resting her hand against his cheek. “Cullen,” she said gently, her voice steady. “I’m here. I’m alive. And yes, I have some broken ribs, but I’ve survived worse. I told you before: fate and I have an understanding.” She paused, her gaze softening further. “But if it’s any comfort, I wouldn’t mind if next time you could intercept Emma before she jumps on me.”

    Cullen’s lips twitched into a reluctant smile, though his eyes still carried the weight of his worry. “If it’ll keep you from breaking anything else, I’ll intercept her every time.”

    Without a word, he slid an arm around her waist, pulling her closer. She didn’t resist, letting the warmth of his presence soothe the lingering ache in her chest that had nothing to do with her ribs. For a moment, they stood there, the noise of the camp fading into the background.

    “I’ll always be here,” Cullen murmured, his forehead resting gently against hers. “No matter what.”

    “I know,” she whispered, her voice steady despite the storm of emotions she felt. “And so will I.”

    She held his gaze for a brief moment, letting herself find comfort in his arms. “So… I hear you have something to tell me?” she teased.

    Cullen chuckled, shaking his head. “I do. More than Emma knows.”

    Ariana tilted her head slightly, searching his eyes. Before she could question him further, he gently took her left hand, pulling off her glove. From his pocket, he pulled out the ring—her ring.

    “Marry me.” His tone was more a statement than a question, steady and unshakable.

    Ariana’s breath caught as she looked down at the ring, then back at him. She wasn’t sure if this was the time, but she couldn’t help the smile that came without a thought. The memory of the first time he proposed replaying in her mind.  As he held her gaze, he slid the ring back onto her finger, and there was a quiet promise that this time there would be nothing that could keep him from her. She was his path, and he would choose her always.

    Ariana looked down at her hand, now adorned with the familiar ring. “Yes,” she whispered, her voice steady but filled with emotion. “Always, yes.”

    Cullen wrapped both his arms around her waist now, tightening his hold on her briefly, as if committing the moment to memory. Without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him, her lips meeting his with a force that carried the weight of everything she hadn’t been able to say these past few years.

    The world fell away as Ariana melted into the kiss, and Cullen’s hands found the small of her back, pulling her closer. The pain in her ribs was forgotten, the kiss deepening into a mixture of love, relief, and renewed promises.

    When they finally parted, Ariana rested her forehead against his, her breathing uneven, though she smiled softly. “I love you,” she said simply, her voice steady despite her racing heart.

    Cullen’s eyes softened, his hands still at her waist. “And I love you,” he murmured, his voice raw but certain. “I always have.”

    Unbeknownst to them, a small group had gathered nearby, curiosity piqued by the hushed tones and subdued expressions. As the kiss lingered, a single cheer broke the quiet. Then another. And another. Slowly, what sounded like the entire camp erupted into applause, whistles, and shouts of celebration, breaking the spell between them.

    Ariana froze, her eyes wide, looking around briefly before burying her face in Cullen’s chest with a groan. “Well… that’s… I don’t think that proposal will qualify as a rumor,” she muttered, her voice muffled.

    Cullen chuckled, the sound rich and warm, as he rested his chin lightly on the top of her head. “No,” he agreed, his tone laced with humor. “I don’t think it will.”

    From the corner of her eye, Ariana caught sight of Varric standing with Riley and Dorian, all grinning far too wide for her comfort. Riley even raised a hand to salute her.

    Next to them, Isabel carried Emma, who was cheering excitedly. “You told her!”

    Cullen laughed, more genuinely than he had in a long time.

    Ariana groaned again, the warmth in her cheeks growing unbearable. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

    “Oh, absolutely,” Cullen replied, a rare playful glint in his eyes as he glanced down at her. “And I don’t care who knows, Ari.”

    “You’re the Commander of the Inquisition,” she muttered, still hiding her face. “I’m certain all of southern Thedas will know by week’s end, so I hope you mean that.” Despite herself, though, she couldn’t help but laugh softly, the sound blending with the cheers of the camp around them.

    “The Commander of the Inquisition marrying the Herald of Andraste…” Cullen sighed, already imagining the fallout. But despite the thought, he didn’t care. “It seems fitting,” he chuckled.

    If nothing else, this certainly made people forget the arguing of the last few hours. Now, the energy of the camp was buzzing with lightness and laughter—a stark contrast to the grim tension that had lingered since they fled Haven. For the first time since the Breach appeared, the Inquisition felt unified. Even if it came at her expense, Ariana thought wryly, perhaps this was exactly what they all needed.

    ~~~

    Ariana and Cullen returned to the makeshift table where the Inquisition leadership had gathered. The tension from earlier had mostly dissipated, though it lingered faintly in the furrowed brows and crossed arms of those present. Ariana wasted no time explaining Solas’s suggestion, describing the fortress he had mentioned as a potential haven. Her explanation was peppered with the ongoing teasing and commentary from Josephine and Leliana, much to Cassandra’s mounting annoyance.

    “I would appreciate it,” Cassandra interjected pointedly, her tone clipped, “if we could focus on the matter at hand.”

    Leliana’s lips twitched into a sly smile. “I thought the matter at hand was quite literally on her hand.”

    Cassandra’s glare could have melted steel, but Riley didn’t miss the opportunity to chime in. “Oh, come on, Seeker. I think we’re all a little curious. That was quite the camp spectacle. And no one ever witnessed the first proposal, it was very private.”

    Josephine raised a hand to her lips, feigning thoughtfulness. “Perhaps we should debate the logistics of a proper celebration?”

    Cassandra sighed audibly, rubbing her temple as though physically pained by the teasing. “Can we please focus?”

    “Of course, Seeker,” Josephine replied smoothly, though the faintest hint of a smile tugged at her lips.

    Solas approached the group, rolling out a map to display the approximate location of the fortress. He tapped a slender finger against a section of unmarked mountains. “Here,” he said, his tone calm yet confident. “Nothing on your maps indicates a settlement or structure, but I assure you, it is there. It has simply been… forgotten.”

    “Conveniently forgotten,” Leliana murmured, her sharp gaze fixed on the map. “But if it exists, it may be our best chance.”

    Ariana nodded, her focus shifting to Riley, who had joined them. She pointed to the area Solas indicated. “Riley, I need scouts dispatched immediately. Explore every possible path to this location and find the safest route. We’re not risking lives unnecessarily.”

    Riley gave a quick nod, her expression resolute. “On it, Wolf. I’ll organize the Rangers and coordinate with Leliana’s scouts.”

    As Riley strode off, already barking orders to nearby Rangers, the discussion shifted to logistics. Supplies, weather conditions, and the condition of the refugees all came under scrutiny. Cullen gestured toward Isabel, who stood near a cluster of crates with a clipboard in hand, already directing a small group of volunteers.

    “Isabel,” Ariana called, making her way over to her. Cullen followed, his expression steady but intent. “We need to talk logistics. You’ve already got a handle on the supplies?”

    Isabel looked up, her blonde hair falling slightly from its braid as she adjusted her grip on the clipboard. “I’ve started organizing what’s left,” she replied. “It’s not pretty, but it’s something. We’ve got enough rations for three days if we stretch it, maybe four if we’re clever.”

    “Then clever it is,” Cullen said firmly, crossing his arms. “We need rationing priorities. Children and anyone who can’t move quickly get what they need first. Everyone else will need to make do with less.”

    Isabel nodded, jotting something down. “That’s already in the works. I’ve got people splitting the food evenly for now, but I’ll adjust the portions as you’ve said. Water’s trickier, though—we’re relying on fresh snow and a small stream nearby. I’ve got some Rangers and soldiers rotating shifts to bring it in, but it’s slow.”

    Ariana frowned, leaning over the list in Isabel’s hands. “Can we set up any sort of waystation along the path?” she asked. “Somewhere we can leave supplies to lighten the load?”

    Isabel tapped her quill against the clipboard thoughtfully. “Maybe. If Riley’s scouts find a solid route, I can organize drop points along the way. We’d need enough hands to carry the supplies back and forth without slowing everyone else down.”

    “I’ll assign soldiers to assist with that,” Cullen said quickly, his tone decisive. “Focus on speed and efficiency—we can’t afford to waste time or resources. And we’ll need forward teams to clear the path. Any signs of instability in the terrain, we reroute immediately.”

    Their voices overlapped briefly, neither seeming to mind as their ideas wove together seamlessly. Orders were given, adjusted, and refined without a single argument. Soldiers and Rangers alike moved with renewed purpose, their trust in the pair evident in the way they followed every instruction without question.

    Leliana leaned closer to Cassandra, her sharp eyes observing the interaction. “They work well together,” she remarked quietly.

    “Too well,” Cassandra muttered, though there was no real edge to her words. “It’s almost infuriating.”

    “Almost,” Josephine added with a smile, her gaze flicking to Ariana and Cullen. “But you have to admit, it’s effective.”

    Between the two of them, the camp transformed. Supplies were inventoried, scouting parties dispatched, and routes debated with precision and efficiency. The arguments from earlier felt like a distant memory as the leadership united under the shared goal of survival.

    Ariana and Cullen’s dynamic was impossible to ignore. They complemented each other so naturally that even the most skeptical of onlookers had to admit the strength of their partnership. Where one spoke, the other listened. Where one led, the other supported. Together, they commanded the respect and trust of soldiers, Rangers, and villagers alike.

    As the last orders were given and the camp settled into action, Cullen glanced at Ariana. “We’ll get them there,” he said quietly, his tone carrying an unshakable conviction.

    Ariana met his gaze, her expression softening for a moment. “I know,” she replied simply. “We always do.”

    For the first time since the Breach appeared, the Inquisition felt not only like a cause but like a force to be reckoned with—a family bound by more than survival. They were ready to face whatever came next, together.

  • Chapter 72 – In Your Heart Shall Burn

    23 – 24 Bloomingtide 9:41

    The weight of the moment pressed down on Ariana as Cullen stepped forward, taking command with his usual precision. Yet, she didn’t miss the way his jaw tightened, the way his fingers flexed briefly against the hilt of his sword before settling into their usual unyielding grip. It wasn’t just battle readiness—it was concern.

    For her.

    “What’s happening?” Cassandra demanded, her tone clipped but steady as she approached.

    “One watchguard reporting,” Cullen replied, his gaze locked on the darkened path ahead. “It’s a massive force, the bulk of it moving over the mountain.”

    “Under what banner?” Josephine’s voice rang out as she joined them, breathless from her sprint.

    “None,” Cullen answered curtly, his focus unbroken.

    “None?” Josephine repeated, faltering.

    Riley arrived next, her presence a burst of energy as she clasped Ariana’s shoulder. “Wolf! Reports are strange. We’ve lost contact with some scouts, but they—”

    “They what, Riley?” Ariana pressed, her tone sharper than she intended.

    “They’re saying what’s coming doesn’t look… human,” Riley finished, her words hanging heavy in the air as those around her exchanged uneasy glances.

    Before anyone could respond, a loud pounding echoed from the gates. A young, trembling voice called out from the other side, “I can’t come in unless you open!”

    Ariana stepped forward immediately, her voice cutting through the hesitation of the nearest soldier. “Open them!”

    The gates creaked open, revealing a wiry boy in an oversized hat, his pale face stark against the shadows.

    Before Ariana could speak, a creature lunged from the darkness. The boy moved with inhuman speed, dispatching it effortlessly. The beast collapsed at his feet before anyone had even processed the attack.

    “I’m Cole,” the boy said quietly, his voice both eerie and sincere. “I came to warn you. To help. People are coming to hurt you. You probably already know.”

    The group stared at him, stunned, as his unsettling presence seemed to warp the air around him.

    “The Elder One is very angry,” Cole continued, his pale eyes locking onto Ariana. “You took his mages. The red templars went to him. And he knows you.”

    Ariana’s stomach turned. The Elder One. He knows me.

    Her gaze darted to Cullen, seeking his steadying presence. “Cullen!” she called, her voice sharper than she intended. “Give me a plan! Anything!”

    Cullen’s response was immediate, though the tension in his frame betrayed the pressure he felt. “Haven is no fortress. If we are to withstand this monster, we must control the battle.”

    His words carried weight, grounding the chaos around them. “Get out there and hit that force. Use everything you can!”

    Ariana blinked at him, her mind racing as she processed his words. “Are you sure you’re not getting too comfortable sending me into mortal danger?” she quipped, a faint smirk tugging at her lips.

    Cullen’s jaw tightened, his frustration evident. “Ariana, this is not the time—”

    Riley cut in, smirking despite the tension. “Oh, Commander, you’d better get used to that. She thrives on it.”

    “I am well aware,” Cullen said sharply, his tone clipped as he turned his full focus back to Ariana. “Just—be careful.”

    Her smirk softened, something more genuine flickering in her expression. “I will. I promise.”

    Turning back to the Rangers, Ariana barked orders with practiced efficiency. “Riley, get all warriors and rogues inside Haven to defend in case we fail. Mages and rangers will stand with the Inquisition mages. Shoot everything you can from a distance. And you…” she paused, locking eyes with Riley. “I need you with me.”

    Riley grinned, her sword already drawn. “By your order, Wolf.”

    Valentina and Linnea moved to carry out her commands, leaving Ariana and Riley standing side by side.

    “I’m with you,” Riley said, her grin sharp. “Let’s show these bastards what happens when they come for the White Wolf, shall we?”

    Ariana’s faint smirk returned. “Let’s do it.”

    She turned toward Cullen one last time, catching the tension in his posture, the quiet fear he carried just under the surface. “I’ll survive this,” she said, her voice low, more to herself than anyone else. “I have to.”

    Cullen’s gaze held hers for a moment longer before he nodded. “See that you do.”

    With that, Ariana stepped into the fray, the air around her charged with the anticipation of battle. The celebration was forgotten, the festive glow extinguished by the chaos ahead.

    For Haven. For the Inquisition. For Cullen.

    And for a tomorrow I’m not ready to give up on.

    ~~~

    The battle was chaos. Fire and smoke filled the air, and Haven’s outskirts had become a war zone. Ariana led groups of soldiers through the shattered village, rallying them with sharp orders while following Cullen’s plans. Two massive trebuchets stood as their last hope to trigger an avalanche and cut off the advancing enemy forces.

    The first trebuchet launched, its heavy payload crashing into the mountainside. A thunderous rumble followed as rocks tumbled down, burying part of the enemy force. When the second trebuchet fired, the avalanche roared again, burying even more. For a fleeting moment, cheers echoed across Haven.

    But the victory was short-lived. A deafening roar ripped through the air as fire rained down from above, obliterating the second trebuchet. Ariana’s stomach twisted as the silhouette of a massive dragon soared overhead, its fiery breath lighting the mountainside ablaze.

    “Retreat! Everyone, to the Chantry! Go!” Cullen’s voice cut through the chaos.

    As soldiers and villagers scrambled toward safety, Ariana’s heart sank at the sight of those left behind. Smoke, debris, and shadows obscured the edges of Haven. “Riley!” Ariana shouted, spotting her lieutenant nearby.

    Riley jogged over, her sword already drawn. “Wolf! What’s the plan?”

    “Split up,” Ariana ordered, her voice steady despite the chaos. “Find anyone left on this side of the village. Make sure no one’s left behind.”

    “You got it.” Riley clasped her shoulder firmly. “Watch yourself.”

    Ariana nodded, her expression hardening as Riley moved off with a group of Rangers. She took a breath, her knuckles whitening around the hilts of her daggers. Let’s move.

    Near the tavern, Ariana spotted Flissa pinned under a pile of debris as flames licked dangerously close. “Hold on, Flissa!” she yelled, rushing over.

    With the help of a soldier, she heaved the debris aside, her muscles straining. They pulled Flissa free just as the flames consumed the spot where she had been trapped.

    Flissa coughed violently, her face streaked with soot. “Thank you,” she managed hoarsely.

    “Get to the Chantry. Go now!” Ariana urged.

    Further down, the air was thick with smoke, and the clash of steel rang out like thunder. Near Adan’s workshop, Ariana spotted the alchemist and Minaeve, cornered by three templars. They fought desperately with whatever they could grab—Adan brandished a broken staff, and Minaeve clutched a jagged piece of metal—but it was clear they were outmatched.

    Ariana sprinted toward them, her daggers already drawn. Focus, the voice echoed in her mind, sharp and unyielding. You don’t fight to survive. You fight to win.

    Her boots pounded against the snow as she closed the distance, and the templars turned, their attention snapping to her. Ariana didn’t hesitate. Her blades became extensions of her will, each strike a calculated motion. She darted between them, her body moving like water.

    What’s the point of speed if you can’t predict your enemy’s next move?

    One templar swung wildly, and Ariana sidestepped with precision, her dagger plunging into the gap between his breastplate and helmet. As he fell, she pivoted, parrying another’s overhead strike with her second blade. She ducked low, slicing through his leg and dropping him to his knees. Her dagger flashed again, this time slitting his throat before he could cry out.

    The final templar hesitated, his weapon raised. Her lip curled as she saw the flicker of doubt in his eyes. Hesitation is death. The voice in her mind was cold and cutting, the specter of Krieger’s lessons driving her every move.

    She rushed him before he could recover, feinting left before her dagger struck home. The templar crumpled, blood seeping into the snow, and Ariana didn’t spare him a second glance.

    Adan and Minaeve stared at her, their faces pale but alive. Ariana knelt beside them, her breathing heavy. “Are you alright?” she asked, her voice steady despite the adrenaline roaring in her veins.

    Adan grimaced, clutching his arm. “Bruised, not broken,” he grunted.

    Minaeve winced as she shifted, her leg bloodied. “We’ll make it,” she said, though her voice wavered.

    Ariana’s gaze darted to their injuries, her mind calculating. “Not without help,” she said firmly. She waved over a nearby soldier, her tone sharp and commanding. “Help them to the Chantry. Now.”

    As the soldier moved to assist, Ariana scanned the area for more threats. Her muscles ached, her body battered, but she couldn’t afford to stop. The fight isn’t over until you make it so. The voice lingered, a cruel echo of her past.

    She clenched her fists around her daggers, the worn hilts grounding her. You fight to win. Always.

    As she pressed further, Ariana’s focus sharpened. Her blades cut down another templar as they reached the main path leading to the Chantry. The dragon roared again overhead, its wings stirring the air and spreading ash like snow. Ariana gritted her teeth, pushing herself forward.

    When Ariana finally reached the Chantry, the heavy doors were already closing, the soldiers shouting for reinforcements to hold the barricades. She slipped inside, guiding Minaeve and Adan to safety. Villagers huddled in groups, their faces pale and wide-eyed.

    The tremors from the dragon’s passes shook the ground beneath her feet, but Ariana forced herself to stand steady. She scanned the crowd and exhaled in relief when she spotted Riley guiding another group inside. For now, they had done all they could.

    Ariana leaned heavily against the wall, wiping soot and blood from her face. The dragon’s roar echoed through the mountains, and the sound of the barricades groaning under pressure was a harsh reminder: Haven wasn’t safe.

    Not yet.

    ~~~

    Inside the Chantry, Chancellor Roderick stood at the center of the chaos, directing villagers to safety. His movements were labored, his face pale with pain. He suddenly staggered, and Cole was there in an instant, steadying him.

    “He’s hurt,” Cole said, his tone quiet but certain. “He held off a templar to save some villagers. He’s dying.”

    Before Ariana could process Cole’s words, she heard hurried footsteps. Riley and Cullen approached, their expressions urgent. Cullen reached her first, grabbing her arm and turning her toward him.

    “Are you alright?” he asked, his eyes scanning her for injuries.

    “I’m fine,” she replied quickly.

    “Are you sure?” His voice softened, but his gaze was intense. “When I got here and you weren’t—”

    “I’m fine,” she repeated firmly, though her expression betrayed a flicker of something unspoken. “What’s happening?”

    Cullen took a steadying breath and recomposed himself. “Ariana, our position is not good. That dragon stole back any time you might have earned us.”

    Cole, still at Roderick’s side, interjected, “I’ve seen an Archdemon. I was in the Fade, but it looked like that.”

    “I don’t care what it looks like,” Cullen snapped, his tone hard. “It has cut a path for that army. They’ll kill everyone in Haven!”

    “The Elder One doesn’t care about the village,” Cole added, his voice distant, strange. “He only wants the Herald.”

    Ariana’s breath caught for a moment, but her voice remained steady. “If it will save these people, he can have me.”

    “No!” Riley’s voice cut through the air, sharp and immediate. “Are you out of your damned mind, Wolf? That is not an option.”

    Cole shook his head, his otherworldly calm unshaken. “It won’t. He wants to kill you. No one else matters, but he’ll crush them, kill them anyway. I don’t like him.”

    Riley threw up her hands, exasperation clear. “You don’t like…? What does that even—”

    Cullen cut her off, his tone grim. “There are no tactics to make this survivable. The only thing that slowed them was the avalanche. We could turn the remaining trebuchets, cause one last slide.”

    Ariana’s brow furrowed in disbelief. “You mean to bury Haven?”

    “We’re dying, but we can decide how. Many don’t get that choice,” Cullen said, his voice tight with resolve.

    Riley rounded on him. “This is madness! ‘Fight to the death’ is not a plan! Wolf, tell me you’re not considering this.”

    Before Ariana could respond, Cole glanced at Roderick. “He can help.”

    Roderick struggled to his feet, leaning heavily on Cole for support. “There is a path,” he began, his voice faint. “You wouldn’t know it unless you’d made the summer pilgrimage. As I have.”

    “What are you talking about, Roderick?” Ariana asked, stepping closer, her tone insistent.

    “It was whim that I walked the path,” he said, his voice growing steadier. “I did not mean to start—it was overgrown. But now, with so many in the Conclave dead, to be the only one who remembers. If this memory can save us…” He paused, meeting her gaze. “You could be more. The Inquisition could be more.”

    Ariana’s thoughts raced. She forced herself to breathe, to think. Finally, she nodded, her voice steady. “Riley, Cullen—get the people out. Follow Chancellor Roderick and get everyone to safety.”

    “And when the mountain falls? What about you?” Cullen’s voice sharpened, his concern unmistakable.

    Ariana cast her gaze downward briefly, her voice steady but firm. “Don’t have time to think about that now. Go!”

    “No, Wolf,” Riley said angrily, stepping closer and grabbing Ariana’s arm. “I won’t allow it. You go.”

    “Riley, that won’t work,” Ariana insisted, her voice rising with urgency. “He’s here for me. I need to keep him focused on me while you all get to safety. Now go—that’s an order.”

    Riley’s jaw tightened, her reluctance clear in every line of her face. She searched Ariana’s gaze, looking for a way to argue. Finally, she straightened, her voice strained. “By your order, Wolf,” she said reluctantly, saluting.

    “Inquisition!” Cullen called. “Follow Chancellor Roderick through the Chantry! Move!”

    Cole helped Roderick toward the passage, but the Chancellor paused before leaving. “Herald… if you are meant for this, if the Inquisition is meant for this, I pray for you.”

    “Ready to do this, pup?” Varric asked, stepping next to her with Bianca in hand.

    “No, Varric. Go. Get these people to safety,” Ariana pleaded, her voice betraying some of her fear.

    Varric shifted his weight and adopted his usual confident stance. “I’m staying, Pup. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

    “Absolutely not. Hawke would kill me if I let you die here,” Ariana replied, somewhat teasingly yet afraid.

    “And Hawke would kill me if I let you go alone, so…” Varric quipped, shrugging his shoulder to imply she had no choice.

    Ariana smiled and shook her head, knowing she would never convince Varric to leave her. For that, she was more grateful than she could ever say.

    Cullen stepped forward, his voice commanding as he pointed toward a group of soldiers. “They’ll load the trebuchets. We need to keep the Elder One’s attention until the Inquisition is above the tree line. If they are to have a chance—if you we are to have a chance—let that thing hear you.”

    “We? Cullen, you need to go with them. You need to survive this.” she said, stepping closer. “The Inquisition needs you. Thedas needs you.”

    “No,” he said firmly. “The Inquisition needs you.

    She shook her head, her voice soft but resolute. “You’re wrong. It’s you, Cullen. You’re the one they’ll follow. You’re the leader Thedas needs right now. And when I think about everything I’ve fought for… everything I’ve survived, it’s you. You inspire me, Cullen. Now you have to do the same for them.”

    Ariana’s hand trembled slightly as she reached for her ring. Her fingers brushed against the cool metal, and for a moment, she hesitated. The weight of it was far greater than its size—a symbol of promises made, of dreams whispered in moments stolen between battles and chaos.

    This isn’t giving up, she told herself, her throat tightening as she slid the ring from her finger. This is ensuring it survives, that it means something beyond today.

    The metal caught the faint light of the Chantry’s flickering torches, a glint of silver against the dark storm of thoughts in her mind. It wasn’t just a ring; it was the life they had planned together, the hope she’d clung to through all the uncertainty. Giving it up felt like severing a lifeline, like leaving behind a piece of herself.

    But she couldn’t falter. Not now.

    She turned to Cullen, holding the ring out to him, her voice soft but steady. “Take this,” she whispered. “Keep it safe. Keep us safe.”

    “I can’t,” he said hoarsely, his voice breaking. “Ariana, I can’t lose you.”

    She smiled faintly, though tears shimmered in her eyes. “You won’t. I’ll always be with you. And you’ll win this fight. You’re the best of us.”

    His hand hovered over hers for a moment before he reluctantly closed his fingers around the ring. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything—his throat was too tight—but the anguish in his eyes spoke volumes.

    She offered a faint, reassuring smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Goodbye, Cullen.”

    She turned to leave, but his hand caught her wrist. Before she could react, he pulled her back toward him, one arm wrapping around her waist, the other cradling the side of her neck. He kissed her, desperate and fierce, as if trying to convey everything he feared might be left unsaid.

    Ariana threw her arms around him as she kissed him back, equally resolute. When they finally pulled apart, she rested her forehead against his, her voice barely above a whisper. “I love you. I have always loved you. I always will.”

    Cullen pulled her close, his voice trembling as he tried to summon the strength he needed. “Survive this,” he said, his tone softening just enough to mirror their shared moment from before. “That’s an order.”

    Her lips curved faintly at the echo of his earlier words, a fleeting moment of solace in the storm raging around them. Though her tears threatened to betray her, her voice remained steady. “By your order, Commander.”

    The words hung between them, heavy with unspoken fears and unyielding hope. Cullen’s fingers lingered on hers for a moment longer before she stepped back, unsheathing her daggers. She turned and ran from the Chantry, the heavy doors closing behind her with a resounding finality that felt like the last beat of her heart.

    ~~~

    As she exited the Chantry, Ariana and Varric were immediately greeted by a group of red templars. “Come and get me then! I’m here!” she shouted, her voice cutting through the chaos. Anger fueled her, but beneath it, there was a strange sense of lightness—a clarity. If this is the end, at least Cullen knows the truth.

    “You’re yelling at templars now?” Varric called out, cocking Bianca. “Next, you’ll be inviting them to tea.”

    “Maybe that would distract them,” Ariana shot back, her daggers flashing as she darted into the fray.

    Her body moved instinctively, every strike precise, every dodge calculated.

    Don’t think, Ariana. Act.

    The thought came unbidden, almost natural. She sidestepped a templar’s overhead swing, her dagger plunging into his side. A second templar lunged, and she twisted, her blade catching him under the chin.

    “Remind me to stay on your good side,” Varric quipped, taking a shot that brought another templar to his knees.

    “Don’t you always,” Ariana replied, her voice tight but with a hint of a smile. Cullen would roll his eyes if he heard us. Maker, I hope he gets the chance.

    They pressed forward, the chaos of the battle surrounding them. Haven’s supply caches proved invaluable, allowing Ariana to quickly mix grenades and gather potions as they moved through the burning village.

    “I’ve seen better celebrations,” Varric said as they ducked behind cover to catch their breath. “This one’s a little heavy on the fire and death.”

    “I’ll make sure the next one has more cake and wine,” Ariana replied dryly, tossing a grenade into an approaching group of templars. The explosion lit up the area, sending fragments of red lyrium scattering.

    “You’re spoiling me now,” Varric said with a grin.

    The banter lightened the weight of the moment, but as they moved closer to the trebuchet, the air grew heavier with smoke, ash, and heat. Ariana’s breaths came faster, though her resolve never wavered. Every step felt heavier than the last, as if each one took her further from everything she fought to protect. But what else could she do? The only way to save Haven was to gamble everything.

    The final trebuchet loomed ahead, already loaded but needing to be turned to face the mountain. Ariana’s hands worked quickly, her fingers deftly adjusting the massive structure, all the while glancing over her shoulder for any sign of approaching enemies.

    “You’ve got this, right?” Varric asked, his tone only half-joking as he looked at the glowing Breach in the distance.

    “Go back to the Chantry,” Ariana said firmly. “Now.”

    Varric hesitated, his gaze flicking between her and the trebuchet. “Not exactly a fan of leaving you here alone, kid.”

    “I’ll be fine,” she insisted, her voice steady. “They need you back there more than I do. Go.”

    Varric gave her one last look before nodding. “Fine. Just don’t do anything stupid.”

    “Like triggering an avalanche, you mean? Never,” she said with a faint smile, already turning her focus back to the trebuchet.

    As Varric disappeared into the smoke, Ariana’s world narrowed to the task at hand. Her movements were quick, precise, each adjustment bringing the trebuchet closer to firing position. She barely registered the roar of the dragon overhead until it was nearly upon her.

    The air exploded with heat and fire as the dragon’s breath engulfed the area, scorching everything around her. The shockwave from the blast sent her sprawling to the ground. As she struggled to her feet, flames crackled around her, and through the heat and smoke, a figure emerged.

    “Enough!” the figure bellowed, its voice resonating with unnatural power. With a flick of his hand, a blast of energy struck her, forcing her back. “Pretender. You toy with forces beyond your ken. No more.”

     This is it, she thought, her breath hitching as the figure approached. Every fiber of her being screamed at her to run, to fight, but something about him felt insurmountable. What is he?

    “What are you? Why are you doing this? What do you want?” she demanded, forcing her voice to steady.

    “Mortals beg for truth they cannot have. It is beyond what you are, what I was. Know me. Know what you have pretended to be. Exalt the Elder One! The will that is Corypheus! You will kneel.”

    The words hit her harder than any physical blow. This is the one who has been hunting me. The one who has taken everything from us. Her hand clenched around the hilt of her dagger. “I will never yield to you. I will never kneel,” she shot back, her voice filled with defiance.

    “You will resist,” Corypheus said, his tone almost amused. “You will always resist. It matters not.”

    He raised a strange orb, its surface pulsing with a sickly red glow. The mark on Ariana’s hand flared in response, sending waves of searing pain through her arm. She clutched it, barely managing to stay upright.

    “It is your fault, ‘Herald,’” Corypheus sneered. “You interrupted a ritual years in the planning, and instead of dying, you stole its purpose. I do not know how you survived, but what marks you as ‘touched,’ what you flail at rifts, I crafted to assault the very heavens.”

    The pain drove Ariana to her knees, her breath ragged as she fought to maintain control. The world around her blurred, her vision narrowing to the orb and the mark that now pulsed in unison.

    “And you used the Anchor to undo my work! The gall!” Corypheus continued, his voice filled with fury.

    He strode toward her, gripping her left arm and lifting her as though she weighed nothing. His grip was like iron, and his words dripped with malice.

    “I once breached the Fade in the name of another, to serve the Old Gods of the empire in person,” he said, his tone almost contemplative. “I found only chaos and corruption. Dead whispers. For a thousand years I was confused. No more. I have gathered the will to return under no name but my own, to champion withered Tevinter and correct this blighted world. Beg that I succeed, for I have seen the throne of the gods, and it was empty.”

    With a snarl, he hurled her against the trebuchet. Ariana’s body slammed into the wooden structure, the impact rattling her bones. Gritting her teeth, she scrambled to her feet, her hand brushing against a discarded sword. She picked it up, readying herself.

    Cullen believes in me. The Rangers believe in me. And I have to believe in myself.

    Corypheus sighed, his tone bored. “The Anchor is permanent. You have spoiled it with your stumbling. So be it. I will begin again, find another way to give this world the nation—and god—it requires.”

    From the corner of her eye, Ariana caught sight of a flare in the distance. The signal. The villagers were above the treeline. Relief surged through her when she spotted the signal flare in the distance. They’re safe. They made it.

    “And you,” he spat, raising a hand to signal his dragon, “I will not suffer even an unknowing rival. You must die.”

    As Corypheus’s tirade continued, Ariana’s focus sharpened. She dropped the sword she had picked up, stepping back toward the trebuchet lever. Her voice cut through his rant, calm and defiant. “Your arrogance blinds you. Good to know. If I’m dying… it’s not today!”

    With a swift motion, she kicked the lever. The trebuchet fired, its massive boulder slamming into the mountainside and triggering a massive avalanche. Snow and rock thundered down, engulfing the battlefield. Corypheus’s dragon wrapped its wings around him, carrying him away as the world collapsed around them.

    Ariana turned, spotting a gap in the ground—a hidden structure partially buried in the snow. Without hesitation, she leaped toward it, crashing through a wooden cover just as the avalanche consumed everything above. Darkness swallowed her as she fell.

    ~~~

    The chill of the ice beneath her armor was what finally roused Ariana. She opened her eyes slowly, her vision swimming as the world around her came into focus. Above her, the ceiling of a natural cavern loomed, the jagged edges of rock glistening faintly in the dim light emanating from her mark.

    The pain hit all at once when she tried to move—a sharp, unrelenting ache in her side that made her gasp. Broken ribs. Probably more than one. She gritted her teeth, pressing a hand to her side as she pushed herself up to sit. Every breath was shallow, the pain clawing at her chest.

    Her mark pulsed brighter than usual, the green glow casting eerie shadows on the cavern walls. She stared at it, frowning. Well, at least I’m not completely in the dark. Convenient, she thought bitterly, letting out a soft, wry chuckle that immediately made her ribs protest. The sound surprised her, almost absurd in the eerie stillness. Only I would laugh at a time like this. Cullen would be so mad at me right now.

    “This wasn’t one of my better ideas,” she muttered under her breath, her voice echoing faintly in the cavern. “But at least I’m alive… so far.”

    Her legs were stiff, her body bruised from the fall, but Ariana managed to stand. The movement sent another wave of sharp pain through her side, nearly knocking her back down. She leaned against the icy wall for support, biting back a curse.

    How long have I been here? she wondered, her thoughts hazy. Minutes? Hours? Days? The thought of everyone assuming she was dead sent a sharp pang through her chest—not from fear, but frustration. If they thought she was gone, would they give up on the fight? Would Cullen…?

    Her jaw tightened. No. He wouldn’t. He’ll rally them. He’ll survive. He has to.

    Straightening as best she could, Ariana limped forward into the tunnel, the green glow of her mark lighting her way. Each step sent shocks of pain through her body, but she pressed on, her determination outweighing the agony. One step at a time, she told herself. Just keep moving.

    The cavern seemed endless, the cold biting at her skin and seeping into her bones. Every shadow seemed to shift, every sound echoed unnervingly. Yet she kept going, her focus narrowing to the rhythm of her steps and the flickering light of her mark.

    She was so focused on moving forward that the attack took her by surprise. A demon lunged from the shadows, its form twisting unnaturally as it snarled. Ariana reached for her daggers but grasped at empty space. The realization hit her like a blow. I lost them. In Haven.

    Don’t think, Ariana. Act.

    The voice in her mind was clear, commanding, instinctive. She threw herself to the side, narrowly avoiding the demon’s strike. Her body twisted, her movements sharper, faster than they should have been given her injuries. Her instincts took over, guided by years of training—and by his voice.

    What’s the point of speed if you can’t predict your enemy’s next move?

    The demon lunged again, and her mark flared. A wave of energy exploded outward, forcing the creature back. Ariana staggered, her arm burning as the mark glowed brighter. Her vision swam, but she raised her hand, instincts screaming for control.

    The air crackled and shifted. A rift tore open before her, its sickly green light illuminating the cavern. The demon shrieked, its form twisting as it was pulled into the void. The rift sealed itself with a final burst of light, leaving Ariana alone in the sudden stillness.

    Her breath came in ragged gasps as she lowered her hand, staring at the now-empty space where the rift had been. Her mark throbbed painfully, the glow dimming slightly. “What the hell was that?” she murmured, her voice shaky. “Well, at least it worked.”

    And I’m still alive. That’s what matters.

    The light of her mark illuminated a narrow passage ahead, and she followed it, her steps slower but no less determined. The pain in her body was a constant companion, but she pushed it aside. *Focus. One step closer to Cullen. *

    Eventually, she saw it: a faint glimmer of light in the distance. Her heart leapt at the sight, hope surging through her battered frame. She quickened her pace, ignoring the sharp protests from her ribs and leg.

    The light grew brighter as she approached, and finally, she stepped out into the open. The cold hit her like a wall, the howling wind tearing at her coat and stinging her skin. Snow swirled around her, obscuring her vision, but she was outside. She was free.

    Her relief was short-lived. The blizzard raged around her, the landscape a blur of white and gray. The cold seeped through her armor, biting into her flesh and making her shiver uncontrollably.

    “Oh… a blizzard. Of course. Why not?” she muttered, her voice barely audible over the wind.

    She scanned her surroundings, searching for any sign of the Inquisition. The snow was deep, the trail she’d followed barely visible. But there were signs—trampled snow, broken branches. They had come this way. She just had to follow.

    Her thoughts drifted to Cullen, the memory of his voice a tether. She pictured his face, his warmth, the way his eyes softened when they met hers. He’s waiting for me. He has my ring. I’ll follow that star one more time.

    The thought gave her strength, her resolve hardening. She wasn’t ready to give up. Not yet. Not when there was still so much to fight for.

    She stumbled, her leg giving out beneath her. The snow cushioned her fall, but the cold seeped into her bones, making her limbs feel heavy and unresponsive. She forced herself up, her body trembling from the effort.

    “Come on,” she muttered through clenched teeth. “Just a little further.”

    Her vision blurred, her thoughts growing hazy, but she kept moving. One step at a time, one breath at a time. She wasn’t going to stop. She wasn’t going to die here.

    By your order, Commander.

    ~~~

    Riley stood amidst a cluster of Rangers, her sharp eyes scanning the icy expanse beyond their makeshift camp. The air was biting, her breath visible in the frigid morning as she addressed her team with urgency. The sharp wind cut through even the thickest cloaks, but Riley barely noticed. Her focus was fixed on the search.

    “Valentina, Linnea, Lamberto,” she began, her voice firm and steady despite the turmoil in her chest. “We’re splitting into scouting parties. I want every path that could lead back to Haven mapped and searched. We’re looking for survivors, supplies, and any sign of Wolf.”

    Valentina, her brown hair dusted with frost, nodded with conviction. “We’ll take the southern ridge. It’s narrow, but if anyone managed to escape, they might have taken that route.”

    Linnea adjusted her heavy cloak, her expression thoughtful. “I’ll take my team northward. There’s an old hunting trail up there. If she’s alive, she might have tried to get higher ground.”

    Lamberto, the oldest of the group, crossed his arms and spoke gruffly. “I’ll circle back toward the lower paths. If there are any stragglers or wounded, that’s where they’ll be.”

    Riley nodded, her expression set. “Good. Make sure every team is prepared for the cold and carry flares. If you find anything—anything at all—you signal immediately. And mark hazards. We can’t afford to lose anyone else.”

    Valentina hesitated, her green eyes meeting Riley’s. “And what about you? Where will you be?”

    Riley’s gaze hardened, though her voice was calm. “I’ll be coordinating from here and joining any search party that finds a lead. Wolf’s out there, and we’re going to bring her back.”

    The Rangers dispersed swiftly, their movements practiced and efficient. Riley remained, her thoughts racing as she considered their options. Haven had been a massacre, but she refused to believe Ariana was gone. She survived the Blight. She survived Krieger. She survived Kirkwall. She’s alive. Riley clung to that certainty like a lifeline, her faith in Ariana’s resilience unshakable.

    The sound of boots crunching in the snow drew her attention. Cullen approached, his expression a mix of weariness and determination. The snow clung to his shoulders, and the shadows under his eyes spoke of his despair. Despite her own exhaustion, Riley straightened her posture, her voice steady as she greeted him.

    “Organizing the search,” she said simply, anticipating his question. “We need to find her.”

    Cullen’s brow furrowed, his concern evident. “The chances…” He trailed off, his golden eyes scanning the distant peaks. “Riley, we barely got out ourselves. Haven is…” He hesitated, as though saying the words would make them more real.

    Riley’s expression didn’t waver. “She’s alive,” she said firmly, her voice cutting through the chill. “I refuse to believe otherwise. Wolf doesn’t go down without a fight.”

    Cullen’s lips pressed into a thin line, his shoulders tensing. “And if she isn’t?” he asked quietly, the words heavy with guilt.

    “I know it,” Riley replied, her tone unwavering. “But I also know she’s injured, freezing, and likely pushing herself harder than she should. She needs us. She needs me. And I’ll be damned if I let her down.”

    She hesitated for a moment, her voice dropping slightly. “You weren’t there during the Blight, Commander. I watched her stand against a horde of darkspawn the day we saved her. I saw her pull people from the ruins of villages, clear battlefields, survive—” Riley stopped short, her lips pressing into a thin line, the unspoken word lingering between them.

    Cullen’s brows furrowed at the sudden pause, but he didn’t press her. Whatever she had almost said hung in the air like a shadow, and he could feel the weight of it in her tone. There was a flicker of something in his gaze—an emotion that Riley couldn’t quite place. Vulnerability? Determination? It was gone as quickly as it appeared.

    “You truly believe she can survive this?” he asked, his voice quieter.

    “I know it,” Riley replied, her tone unwavering. “But I also know she’s injured, freezing, and probably pushing herself harder than she should. She needs us. She needs me. And I’ll be damned if I let her down.”

    Cullen exhaled slowly, his gaze shifting to the snow-covered expanse beyond the camp. The distant peaks were shrouded in mist, their paths treacherous and unforgiving. Finally, he nodded, his voice low but resolute. “Then go. Find her.”

    Riley inclined her head, her resolve solidifying. “Thank you, Commander. But don’t lose yourself in this,” she added, her tone softening. “We need you here. Keep the camp together.”

    For a moment, Cullen’s expression softened, his eyes meeting hers with a flicker of trust. “If anyone can find her, it’s you,” he said, his voice steady but laced with emotion.

    Riley turned back to the Rangers, her steps purposeful as she prepared to join the search herself. Behind her, Cullen lingered at the edge of the clearing, his breath visible in the frigid air. His gaze remained fixed on the mountains, his thoughts unreadable.

    Don’t get dead, Wolf. Riley’s silent prayer echoed in her mind as she stepped into the cold, the weight of her determination a shield against the unforgiving snow.

    ~~~

    Ariana stumbled upon the remnants of a campfire, her heart giving a faint flutter of hope before reality set in. The ashes were blackened, cold, and dusted with snow. Kneeling beside the debris, her trembling fingers sifted through it, the frigid air numbing her movements. Nothing. The faint spark of possibility was extinguished as quickly as it came.

    “It’s cold… nothing,” she murmured, her voice thin against the roar of the wind. She exhaled sharply, watching her breath curl into faint clouds that dissolved into the icy air. “Lucky me.”

    Her eyes scanned the area, desperate for anything—a scrap of cloth, a hint of warmth—but there was nothing. The Inquisition had moved on, their faint traces scattered by the blizzard. Wrapping her arms around herself, she tried to summon some courage against the cold that gnawed relentlessly at her.

    The trail stretched endlessly before her, but every step felt heavier, her strength sapping with each agonizing movement. Her right leg throbbed with every shift of weight, forcing her to rely on her left, which was rapidly growing numb. The blizzard didn’t relent, its icy claws wrapping tighter around her with every gust.

    Ariana turned back to the fire’s remains, the idea of rekindling it flickering through her mind. She crouched again, her frozen hands clawing at the charred wood. It was soaked through, as useless as her own dwindling reserves. She pressed her hands together, willing warmth into them, her mark flickering faintly in response. No choice but to keep moving.

    The cold seeped deeper, through armor and skin, gnawing at the edges of her mind. Her ribs ached with every shallow breath, a cruel reminder of her fragility. Doubt crept in, quiet but insidious, whispering at the edges of her resolve.

    Is it even worth continuing?

    The thought lingered, sharp and unwelcome, but then Cullen’s face filled her mind. His voice, steady and warm, soothed the edges of her fear. She thought of the way he made her feel—safe, cherished, and challenged all at once. She pictured his hand reaching for hers, the warmth in his gaze when he looked at her, the strength he lent her simply by being. He was her anchor, her tether to hope. And her ring. Maker, her ring. She’d given it to him to keep, and now she needed it back.

    Her fingers curled against her side, pressing against the bruised ribs as if holding herself together. No. It’s worth it. For him. For all of them.

    Gritting her teeth, Ariana forced herself upright, her legs shaking beneath her weight. Every movement was agony, her body screaming for rest, but she pressed on. She stumbled, catching herself on the snow-laden ground, her breaths coming in ragged bursts.

    That’s when she heard them.

    The low growls were faint at first, carried by the wind, but they were unmistakable. Wolves. The sound sent a chill down her spine that had nothing to do with the cold. Were they hunting her? Her heart thudded painfully against her ribs, the sound reverberating in her ears.

    She let out a soft, bitter laugh, her voice barely audible over the storm. “I should’ve stayed in bed today,” she muttered, her tone dry despite the fear creeping through her.

    The growls grew louder, closer, their guttural tones slicing through the howling wind. Her hand instinctively reached for a weapon, but the dagger that should have been strapped to her thigh was gone—lost in the chaos of Haven. She was defenseless, save for her wits and the faintly glowing mark on her hand.

    Most people break under pressure. You don’t.

    The voice was clear, calm, and commanding—his voice. Krieger. The phantom presence that pushed her forward when everything seemed bleakest. Ariana hated it, hated the strength it brought, hated the shadow it cast over her soul. But she didn’t deny it. She couldn’t. Not now.

    Her breathing steadied as the words settled into her bones. She straightened slightly, the pain in her side a reminder of her limits but also of her survival. She was still standing. She was still moving. And that’s all that matters.

    She pushed forward, each step a defiance of the cold and exhaustion dragging at her limbs. The wolves’ howls echoed behind her, a grim reminder of how precarious her position was. But she didn’t look back. She couldn’t afford to. Her focus remained on the faint trail ahead, the signs that the Inquisition had passed through.

    Cullen was alive. She had to believe that. The thought of his arms around her, his steady presence beside her, was the only thing keeping her from falling apart. She couldn’t let herself falter—not when he was waiting for her. Not when she still had a promise to keep.

    One more step, she told herself. One more breath.

    The howls faded into the storm, the cold biting at her every inch. But Ariana kept moving, the memory of Cullen’s voice a lifeline against the void. She would find him. She would survive this.

    She had to.

    ~~~

    Cullen stood at the edge of the camp, his gloved hands wrapped tightly around a small, familiar object. The weight of the ring in his palm was nothing compared to the ache in his chest. He turned it over carefully, the firelight catching on the polished blue stone at its center, making it gleam like a shard of the morning sky. This was more than a ring—it was a promise, one they hadn’t been able to keep all those years ago.

    The cold wind bit at his face, carrying the last remnants of the blizzard, but Cullen hardly noticed. His attention was fixed on the jagged peaks beyond the camp, now shrouded in a pale, swirling mist. Somewhere out there, Silver Rangers were searching. They clung to the belief that Ariana, the White Wolf, was alive. That she had survived the avalanche and the cold.

    He closed his hand around the ring, the edges digging into his palm. If Riley’s right, he thought, his jaw tightening, if somehow she’s alive, I won’t waste another moment.

    Memories of Ariana consumed him as he stood in the icy stillness. He thought of Kirkwall, the shared smiles that made the oppressive city seem lighter, the stolen moments of laughter amidst their struggles. He remembered the way she used to argue with him, fiery and determined, refusing to back down even when he was certain she would. The nights they spent dreaming of something better—dreams that felt fragile but real when she was beside him.

    And then there was her voice the night she returned from Redcliffe, filled with a mix of sorrow and hope: I need you. That unspoken connection had pulled him back to her, time and time again.

    Most of all, he thought of her standing in the Chantry, her voice trembling but steady as she said the words that had been etched into his heart ever since: I have always loved you.

    The thought of losing her again—truly losing her this time—was unbearable. If the Maker granted him even one more chance, he would make it count. Cullen’s grip on the ring tightened. He would put it back on her finger, not as a memory of the life they’d once planned but as a promise for the future. He would marry her, no matter the challenges ahead. Nothing else mattered anymore. Whatever secrets she carried, whatever shadows still lingered, they would face them together. He wouldn’t let her go.

    “Commander.” Leliana’s voice broke through his reverie. Cullen slipped the ring back into his pocket and turned, his posture stiffening. The spymaster approached with measured steps, her expression calm but her eyes sharp.

    “We’ve received reports from the scouts,” she said, gesturing toward the group gathered around the map table. “They’ve identified a few potential routes through the pass to the north. It’s dangerous terrain, but it’s our best chance to find shelter and regroup.”

    Cullen followed her to the table, where Cassandra, Josephine, Riley, and Solas were deep in discussion. The hastily sketched trails on the map before them painted a grim picture—narrow paths, steep drops, and the constant threat of frostbite or ambush. He listened as Cassandra outlined the risks, as Josephine calculated the logistics of moving so many through treacherous terrain. Riley stood nearby, arms crossed, her face grim but focused.

    The tension was palpable, but before anyone could speak further, a sharp voice rang out:

    “Lieutenant! Lieutenant Riley!”

    Cullen and the others turned as a young man sprinted toward them, his breath clouding the cold air. It was Elliot, one of Riley’s most dependable scouts. His face was flushed, his eyes wide with urgency.

    “What is it?” Riley demanded, stepping forward to meet him.

    Elliot skidded to a stop, his words tumbling out in hurried gasps. “The scouts… in the pass… west. They think they saw someone.”

    Riley’s eyes narrowed. “Someone?” she repeated, her voice dangerously low. “What do you mean?”

    Elliot took a deep breath, steadying himself. “They think it’s Wolf.”

    The world seemed to stop. The muffled conversations of the camp, the distant howl of the wind—all of it faded into silence in Cullen’s ears. His chest tightened, and his legs moved before his mind could catch up. He didn’t wait for further explanation. He was already running.

    The snow crunched beneath his boots as he sprinted toward the western edge of the camp, his breath coming in sharp, visible bursts. Behind him, he heard Riley shouting, her voice sharp and commanding.

    “Commander, wait!” she yelled, her own footsteps pounding in the snow as she followed. Cullen barely registered it. His focus was entirely on the distant peaks, the faint hope burning like a fire in his chest.

    Cassandra’s armor clinked faintly as she joined the pursuit, and other Rangers moved swiftly to follow. The group’s urgency mirrored Cullen’s own, but none of them could match the desperation that drove him forward.

    His mind raced with every step, his thoughts a storm of fear and hope. He pictured her face, her stubborn smile, the light in her eyes when she teased him. The image was so vivid it hurt. Please, Maker… let it be her.

    The mist grew thicker as he neared the edge of the camp, the jagged mountains looming closer. His heart pounded, the weight of the ring in his pocket pressing against him like a reminder of everything he couldn’t lose. He pushed harder, his breath ragged, his determination unshaken.

    If it’s her… I’m never letting go.

    ~~~

    The cold wind howled through the narrow pass, whipping snow into blinding swirls around Ariana as she knelt by the remnants of a campfire. The faint glow of embers was her only solace, a fragile reminder that she wasn’t entirely lost in the wilderness. Her trembling hands hovered over the dying warmth, though they were too numb to feel much of anything. Each shallow breath sent stabbing pain through her broken ribs, but she didn’t care anymore. She had pushed beyond pain, beyond exhaustion.

    The wolves’ howls echoed closer now, threading through the storm like taunts. They had been following her for hours—or maybe it had been days. Time was meaningless in this frozen hell.

    I can’t stop here, she told herself, though her thoughts were sluggish, weighed down by the cold and despair. She clenched her fists against the numbing frost, forcing her legs to move. One step. Then another. Keep moving.

    Ariana forced herself upright, her legs trembling beneath her weight. The snow was deep, each step a battle, but she pressed on. The trail narrowed as it wound through jagged rocks and frost-laden trees. Her vision blurred with fatigue, her body screaming for rest. Then, through the haze, she saw them—lights flickering against the storm, steady and warm.

    Campfires. Tents. The Inquisition.

    A sob escaped her lips, half-formed and caught in her throat. Relief surged through her chest, but her legs gave out, sending her crumpling into the snow. She tried to crawl, her fingers clawing at the icy ground, but the effort was futile. The cold began to seep in, numbing her body further, but she no longer cared. The light was there, so close.

    The wolves’ howls were drowned out by a different sound—footsteps, voices calling out, urgent and clear. One voice rose above the others, cutting through the storm like a beacon.

    “There! It’s her!”

    That voice… Cullen?

    Strong arms enveloped her, lifting her from the icy ground with a gentleness that belied their strength. Her head lolled against a warm chest, and through her fading consciousness, she caught the faint scent of elderflower and oakmoss. Familiar. Comforting.

    “You’re safe now,” Cullen murmured, his voice low and trembling. His cheek brushed hers as he tightened his hold, shielding her from the biting wind. “I’ve got you, love. I’ve got you.”

    The sudden shift in position sent a jolt of pain through her ribs, and Ariana flinched, a small gasp escaping her lips. Cullen froze for a moment, then adjusted his grip, one arm cradling her back more securely while the other supported her legs, careful to avoid putting pressure on her injuries.

    “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice raw with guilt. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

    Ariana wanted to tell him it was fine, that it didn’t matter, but her lips barely moved. The effort to speak was too much. Instead, she let herself sink into his arms, trusting his strength, his presence.

    The world wavered around her, the lights of the camp fading into blurred halos. She felt the warmth of his embrace, heard the steadiness of his heartbeat, and realized she was safe now. In his arms.

    I made it. I kept my promise.

    The corners of her lips curved into the faintest smile as darkness claimed her.

  • Chapter 70 – Let Tomorrow Be Enough

    18 – 22 Bloomingtide 9:41

    Before Ariana could make her way into the war room, the Chantry doors opened once more, letting in a burst of chill morning air. It was Riley. Ariana froze for a moment, her breath catching as relief swept through her. After what Leliana had told her about Cullen’s fate in the dark future, she couldn’t help but imagine Riley had suffered a similar one. Seeing her now, safe and whole, was like a weight lifting off her chest.

    Without a second thought, she crossed the distance between them and wrapped Riley in a tight hug. She held on longer than she usually would, letting herself savor the reassurance of her friend’s solid presence.

    Riley returned the hug with easy warmth, though her tone stayed casual, as if she sensed Ariana needed the familiarity of their banter more than anything serious.

    “You know,” Riley chuckled, patting her back lightly, “if you keep this up, I might start thinking you missed me.”

    Ariana stepped back, her usual teasing grin already returning. “Don’t flatter yourself. It’s just this one time.”

    “Pretty sure it’s been two or three times now,” Riley replied with a mock-thoughtful expression, though the smirk tugging at her lips gave her away.

    Ariana waved her hand dismissively, grinning. “Details.”

    Riley tilted her head, her expression softening briefly as she studied Ariana’s face. “You look better,” she said, her tone gentler now. “Last I heard, Redcliffe was… a mess.”

    The smile faltered on Ariana’s lips for the briefest moment, but she recovered quickly, steering the conversation to business. “How’s our progress in the Hinterlands?”

    “Good. We left when the Fereldan army marched in. Figured they could handle it from there,” Riley replied with a shrug. Her smirk turned curious as she added, “So… why’d the Fereldan army finally decide to get off their asses?”

    Ariana raised an eyebrow, her voice light but carrying a playful edge. “Oh, you know, just the usual. You were right, a Tevinter magister had taken over Redcliffe Castle.”

    “That all?” Riley asked, her tone dry.

    “Well, he also cast a time spell to get to Redcliffe before me, sent me into the future, and conscripted the mages into service for the Imperium,” Ariana added. Her smirk grew as she spoke casually, but the humor didn’t fully mask the weight she was carrying. She folded her arms and tilted her head, feigning nonchalance.

    Riley blinked at her, unimpressed. “Right. So, the usual, then.”

    “Precisely,” Ariana replied with a laugh. Riley always had that effect on her—taking the worst of things and making them manageable, even if only for a moment.

    Riley shook her head, smirking. “Tavern in a bit?”

    “Absolutely,” Ariana replied without hesitation, her grin unwavering. She didn’t need to think twice. She had always valued moments like these, and right now, sharing a drink with Riley felt like the perfect way to remind herself that not everything was on fire.

    As Riley walked further into the Chantry, Ariana lingered for a moment, watching her go with a soft, content smile. The thought of sitting down with Riley by the fire, sharing stories over a pint of ale, felt like the first real break she could remember in what felt like forever. For a moment, she allowed herself to breathe, to let the weight of everything ease just a little.

    She’d spent so long focused on the battles ahead, on the horrors she’d seen, but now she realized something else—these moments, however fleeting, were just as important. As she followed Riley toward the war room, Ariana felt, if only for a moment, like herself again.

    ~~~

    Riley leaned back in her chair, her smirk widening as she sipped her drink. “So, Wolf, what’s this I hear about a certain Commander sneaking flowers into your quarters?”

    “Maker help me,” Ariana muttered, dragging a hand down her face in exasperation.

    Dorian perked up instantly, his charming tone dripping with mischief. “Flowers, you say? My, my, this is delicious. Do go on,” he said, turning toward Riley with exaggerated curiosity.

    “Oh, you know,” Riley said, her grin wicked. “The usual—moonlit rendezvous, clandestine bouquets… jasmines and lilacs, I heard. Someone has impeccable taste.”

    Before Ariana could muster a retort, Valentina leaned forward, her voice rich with amusement. “And here I thought the Commander only had eyes for strategy meetings and training drills. Did he ever get you flowers before?”

    Ariana groaned, her face already warm as she buried it in her hands. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

    “Oh, but it’s happening,” Varric cut in, leaning on the table with a wide grin. “Word is the Commander carried you back to your quarters after you rode into Haven like a bat out of hell. The soldiers are practically writing sonnets about it.”

    “Excellent material for your next book, don’t you think?” Valentina added, her smirk teasing.

    “I hate you all,” Ariana mumbled, her voice muffled.

    “Uh-huh,” Varric said, smirking. “So… do we finally have a wedding date?”

    Ariana threw her hands up. “There is no wedding date! And the flowers weren’t even from him! A soldier brought them to me.”

    As her hands fell back to her lap, Dorian’s sharp eyes narrowed, zeroing in like a hawk spotting prey. He leaned forward, pointing dramatically. “Wait just a moment… what is that?”

    “What’s what?” Ariana asked, confused by his sudden intensity.

    “That.” Dorian gestured emphatically at her left hand. “That sparkling, suspiciously engagement-shaped ring you’re wearing.”

    Ariana sighed, shaking her head. “That would be…” she began, looking around the table at the people who already knew exactly what it was, “an engagement ring…”

    “Now this is a story I need to hear,” Dorian said, grabbing her wrist lightly and holding her hand up for all to see. “Is that from the Commander?”

    Varric let out a bark of laughter, leaning back in his chair. “Well, Pup, looks like you’re caught.”

    Riley smirked, crossing her arms. “And here I thought we’d already had enough fun at her expense today.”

    Valentina, leaning her chin on her hand, grinned slyly. “Apparently, we were just getting started.”

    “Alright, alright!” Ariana said, pulling her hand back and glaring at the group, though her face was redder than the wine in front of Dorian. “There’s nothing new to tell.”

    “Oh, it’s all new to me,” Dorian said, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “So why don’t you start from the beginning.”

    “Maker save me,” Ariana muttered, glancing around at her grinning companions. She finally locked eyes with Dorian, her expression resigned. “It’s a long story, but yes, it’s from Cullen.”

    The table erupted in noise, a mixture of laughter, gasps, and teasing.

    “Cullen?” Dorian repeated, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “You’ve been holding out on me, my dear. Here I didn’t think he had it in him…”

    “We were engaged,” Ariana admitted, her voice almost drowned out by the commotion. “Years ago, before… well, everything.”

    “And yet here you are, wearing his ring again,” Riley pointed out, her smirk practically splitting her face. “That’s not exactly subtle, Wolf.”

    “Because I never stopped loving him!” Ariana blurted out before slapping a hand over her mouth.

    The table went silent for a beat. Then Varric let out a low whistle. “Well, there it is. If I’d known this was going to turn into material for one of my romance serials, I’d have brought more drinks.”

    Ariana groaned, burying her face in her hands. “Can we not do this right now?”

    Dorian, however, looked unexpectedly thoughtful. “Well,” he said, sitting back with a grin that was less teasing and more approving, “I must say, I can’t fault your taste. The Commander does have a certain rugged charm about him. But if you’re going to rekindle old flames, my dear, you’d better keep me in the loop. I live for this sort of drama.”

    “But haven’t you heard?” Valentina asked teasingly, looking at Dorian. “It would seem that our dear Wolf and the Commander were locked in her quarters for two days… alone.”

    “Oh… do tell!” Dorian said excitedly. “Two days? Is he as good as I imagine he would be?”

    Ariana’s face flushed a deeper shade of red if that was even possible.

    Riley patted Ariana’s shoulder sympathetically. “Andraste’s knickers! It’s true then? Is that what you were doing for two days, Wolf? You’ll never live this down now.”

    “You’re all insufferable,” Ariana muttered, dropping her head back into her hands as her face flushed into a deep shade of crimson that seemed impossible.

    “Ah, but you love us for it,” Valentina quipped, raising her glass in a mock toast.

    The banter was in full swing when the tavern door opened, and Cullen stepped inside. Ariana glanced up, her amusement fading as her cheeks quickly regained the crimson color that had finally been clearing. His gaze landed on her, and a faint, familiar smile tugged at his lips.

    “Oh, this is too good,” Varric said, grinning as he noticed her reaction.

    “Perfect timing,” Dorian chimed in, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Oh, Commander?” he called out, waving cheerfully.

    Ariana groaned audibly and thunked her head down onto the table, her mortification complete. The group erupted into laughter, their teasing reaching new heights as Cullen began making his way over.

    Riley leaned closer, her voice low enough only Ariana could hear. “You know, Wolf, you make it far too easy for us.”

    Valentina chimed in, her voice equally low but laced with amusement. “He certainly plays the part of knight in shining armor well…”

    Ariana muttered something unintelligible into the table, her only solace being that Cullen likely hadn’t overheard—yet. But as his footsteps drew nearer, she knew her reprieve was about to end.

    ~~~

    As Cullen reached the table, he was immediately met with Dorian’s trademark mischief.

    “Commander,” Dorian began smoothly, his grin already promising trouble, “Perfect timing. Now we can truly get into the details! How do you feel about red and gold as a color scheme?”

    “A color—for what?” Cullen asked, his brow furrowing in genuine confusion.

    “Just don’t answer that,” Ariana cut in quickly, her voice muffled by her hands. “Trust me.”

    Dorian waved her off with dramatic flair. “Fine, fine, I can make that decision on my own. Now, how about Denerim Palace, Commander? Or do we need something more grand? We could move it to Orlais if that’s the case.”

    Cullen blinked, glancing at Ariana, who looked ready to disappear into the table. “I… don’t—what are you talking about?”

    “Oh, don’t be coy,” Dorian said with mock exasperation. “We’re talking about your wedding, of course. The event of the Age! Don’t worry; I’ll handle the details.”

    “Maker help me,” Cullen muttered, though a faint smile tugged at his lips. He was starting to understand why Ariana looked like she wanted the floor to swallow her whole.

    Riley leaned in, her grin wicked. “Oh, we’re just helping Wolf here plan for all the rumors flying around Haven. You know, flowers, romantic dinners in the war room, being locked in her room for two days, the engagement ring…”

    Cullen blinked. “The enga—” His mind caught up, and his gaze snapped to Ariana, who looked like she wanted to vanish. Then it clicked. “Oh.”

    “Oh, and let’s not forget the infamous scandalous Hightown strolls,” Varric added with a grin, leaning back in his chair. “You remember those, don’t you, Commander?”

    Ariana groaned audibly, lifting her head just enough to glare at him. “Don’t you dare.”

    Cullen chuckled, settling into the seat next to Ariana. “The rumors in Kirkwall? Those are… hard to forget. Some of them were quite entertaining.” His tone turned teasing as he added, “You probably never heard the ones that stayed in the Gallows.”

    That earned a round of laughter from the table, but Ariana looked positively alarmed now. Her wide eyes and deepening blush betrayed her growing mortification. “Cullen…”

    “Oh, the Lowtown rumors,” he continued with feigned thoughtfulness, as though he hadn’t heard her. “Now those were even more… colorful. Something about sneaking into your room every night for vigor–”

    “Cullen!” Ariana interrupted shooting him a sharp glare.

    Dorian and Varric were in stitches, their laughter echoing through the tavern. “Lowtown certainly has its charms,” Dorian said between chuckles. “But I imagine the Hightown rumors had more… elegance?”

    “Oh, yes,” Cullen agreed with a grin. “Hightown cared more about whether the ‘black sheep of the Trevelyan family’ might actually marry a Knight-Captain.”

    “And some even suggested I’d already proposed,” he added wryly, casting a glance at Ariana. “Do you remember the time I knelt in front of you on that bench?”

    Riley’s eyes widened with mock incredulity. “Wait—you knelt? In Hightown? Maker’s breath, Commander, do you know how rumors work?”

    Ariana groaned again, burying her face in her hands. “See? Riley gets it. Are you ever going to let that go?”

    “Not a chance,” Cullen replied, his amusement evident. “She practically leapt out of her seat as if it had caught on fire.”

    “You were kneeling in front of me!” Ariana protested, finally lifting her head to glare at him, though the embarrassed grin tugging at her lips gave her away. “In Hightown. Where the rumors were already bad enough!”

    “It wasn’t a proposal,” Cullen said with mock innocence, his grin widening. “I just needed to make sure you were alright. You looked so flustered I thought something was wrong.”

    “Because you were kneeling!” Ariana shot back, shaking her head. “Maker’s breath, I still don’t know what you were thinking.”

    The group dissolved into laughter, even Ariana finally giving in, though her cheeks remained a vivid red. Cullen leaned back in his chair, his own laugh softer but no less genuine. Watching her now—flustered, exasperated, and glowing with life—made every teasing comment worth it.

    “Alright, alright,” Ariana said, holding up her hands in surrender. “Are we done embarrassing me yet?”

    “Not even close,” Dorian declared, his grin wicked. “But don’t worry, dear Herald. It’s all in good fun. And really, if you didn’t want rumors, you shouldn’t have been so… interesting.”

    Ariana rolled her eyes, exasperated but smiling. Cullen leaned in slightly, his voice quiet enough for only her to hear. “For what it’s worth,” he said softly, his tone warm, “I wouldn’t trade any of it. Not a single rumor.”

    Ariana turned to meet his gaze, her blush softening into something more thoughtful. For a moment, the teasing and laughter faded into the background as they shared a quiet understanding. Cullen held her gaze a second longer before straightening, his focus shifting back to the group just as Dorian launched into a fresh round of wedding planning.

    “Commander,” Dorian called, his grin sharp. “So, colors, what do you think of deep reds and golds?”

    Cullen glanced at Ariana, smirking faintly before answering. “She would prefer blue and silver.”

    Ariana blinked, clearly caught off guard. “How did you—?”

    That was all it took to send the table into another uproar of laughter. Cullen simply smiled, letting the moment stretch. He might not have all the answers, but in this fleeting instance, he felt a rare certainty—one that spoke of knowing her, of being hers, in a way no rumor could ever capture.

    ~~~

    The past few days in Haven had been a rare reprieve, a brief moment where the constant battles and tension had eased. With the mages recruited and a plan to close the Breach forming, there was, for the first time, a glimmer of hope that the end of this nightmare might be within reach. The air around the village felt lighter, and even the most hardened soldiers seemed less grim. But Ariana couldn’t shake the weight on her shoulders.

    For now, most of Haven didn’t know about the dark future she had seen. And she intended to keep it that way. Let them enjoy this moment, free of the knowledge of what awaited if they failed.

    Ariana herself had spent much of the past two days in her quarters, allowing herself to rest, to let the bruises and minor injuries she’d sustained in Redcliffe and the future begin to heal. Her mind, though, refused to settle. Every time she thought about the Breach, the Elder One, or the fragile alliance between templars and mages, she found herself spiraling into what-ifs. She was running out of time to stop the chaos.

    This afternoon, she had attempted to distract herself with “light” reading—the writ from the Divine that granted authority to the Inquisition. It was hardly the most riveting choice, but the words had been a welcome reprieve from her own thoughts. For a while, she had managed to lose herself in the legal language, deciphering the structure of how the Inquisition had come to exist. But eventually, even that failed to keep her mind occupied.

    Her thoughts had begun circling back to darker places when a knock at the door snapped her out of her reverie. “Come,” she called, closing the book and setting it aside.

    The door creaked open, and Cullen stepped in, his frame filling the doorway. He paused when he saw her sitting on the bed, wrapped in her robe, the sunlight from the window catching the loose strands of her dark hair.

    “If you’re busy, I can come back later,” he said, his tone uncertain.

    Ariana glanced at the book and laughed. “Oh, this?” She held it up to show him the cover. “It’s the writ granting the Inquisition authority. Riveting stuff.”

    Cullen chuckled softly, closing the door behind him. “You must have run out of other books in the library you broke into.”

    She shrugged, smiling faintly. “I was curious how one goes about starting an Inquisition. It’s surprisingly dull.”

    “It’s not meant to be exciting,” Cullen replied with a small smile, though it quickly faded. His expression grew more serious as he stepped further into the room.

    Ariana immediately noticed the shift in his demeanor. “Why do I feel like I’m in trouble?” she teased, though her tone carried an edge of concern.

    He sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not you. It’s… we’re having problems.”

    “What sort of problems?” she asked, sitting up straighter. Her tone shifted, calm and focused, as if bracing herself for whatever he was about to say.

    Cullen sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “The templars and mages are struggling to coexist. The Templars don’t trust them, and the mages… well, they don’t want Templars anywhere near them. There’s tension in the air, and I fear it’s only a matter of time before it boils over.”

    “What are you asking of me?” Ariana asked, her tone steady as she rested her hand on the writ she’d been reading earlier.

    “I don’t know,” he admitted, his frustration slipping into his voice. “This isn’t how things are meant to be. Templars are supposed to safeguard people, to protect mages from themselves—and others from magic. Without proper oversight…” He trailed off, his frown deepening.

    Ariana tilted her head, studying him carefully. “Proper oversight, or control?” she asked, her voice carrying a deliberate edge.

    Cullen looked at her sharply. “Spoken like someone who hasn’t lived in a Circle,” he said, his tone sharper than he intended.

    Ariana’s gaze hardened, and she straightened her posture. “You’re right—I didn’t live in a Circle. But I was in Kirkwall during the rebellion. I saw firsthand what happens when Templars let their fear spiral into unchecked control. Meredith wielded her authority like a weapon, Cullen. She turned the Gallows into a prison, not a refuge. She was as dangerous—if not more dangerous—than any blood mage I’ve ever encountered.”

    Cullen’s jaw tightened, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. “Meredith was trying to protect Kirkwall. The city was a powder keg. Without her, it would’ve burned long before the rebellion.”

    “She lit the fuse, Cullen!” Ariana shot back, her voice rising. “She hoarded power, ruled through fear, created desperation, and pitted people against each other. How is that any less dangerous than a blood mage summoning demons? Power unchecked is dangerous—no matter who wields it.”

    Cullen exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “And yet you ask me to trust mages—to let go of the safeguards that have kept people safe for centuries. You don’t understand the power they wield.”

    “Don’t I?” Ariana’s voice softened but didn’t lose its edge. She held his gaze firmly. “You were there, Cullen. You saw what Meredith’s unchecked power did. Would you stand by her again? Would you make the same choice?”

    His breath caught as her words hit home. His brows furrowed, and his gaze flicked away for a brief moment, conflicted. “I… No. I wouldn’t.”

    The room fell silent, her question hanging between them like a sharp blade. Cullen finally met her eyes again, his shoulders tense. “But you weren’t at the Circle Tower in Ferelden. You didn’t see what I saw. The demons didn’t kill me, Ariana,” he said after a long pause, his voice low and strained. “They… it’s not so easy to forget.”

    Ariana’s breath caught. He had never spoken about this. She had imagined, once, what it must have been like to survive what happened at Kinloch Hold. She’d assumed it was chaos, fear, maybe a desperate fight for survival. But the way he said it—the sharp edge in his voice, the way his gaze shifted as if searching for something he couldn’t find—it struck her like a blow. He had lived through something far worse than she had imagined. Yet, the man who stood before her, steadfast and resolute, bore no sign of the torment he must have endured. She had been so focused on her own pain, her own scars, that she hadn’t stopped to consider what Cullen carried beneath his calm, disciplined exterior.

    Ariana’s frown deepened, concern flickering across her face. “What are you saying Cullen?”

    “It doesn’t matter,” Cullen said quickly, shaking his head. “That’s not the point.”

    As he spoke, Ariana’s hand unconsciously drifted to her left forearm. Her fingers brushed over it, rubbing softly as if soothing an ache she couldn’t banish.

    “Cullen. I don’t expect you to trust blindly. I do understand more than you think. But one mage—one man—doesn’t justify mistreating all others,” she said, her voice quieter now but no less pointed. “I’ve seen what magic can do. I know the damage it can cause.”

    Cullen frowned, watching her closely. “What are you talking about?” he asked softly. “What did you see?”

    “It doesn’t matter,” she replied, her tone echoing his earlier dismissal. Her hand stilled briefly on her arm before resuming its motion. “That’s not the point.”

    “It matters to me,” Cullen pressed, stepping closer. “What happened—”

    “It’s not the point, Cullen,” she interrupted, her voice firmer this time. Her hand dropped to her side as she straightened, meeting his gaze again. “The point is that I’ve seen the worst of what mages can do. And I’ve also seen the best. They’re just like everyone else—some are good, some are bad. But I don’t condemn all Templars because I’ve run into one or two zealots.”

    Cullen hesitated, his frustration visible, but he held back. It seemeed her words struck a chord in him, forcing him to confront his own biases and the weight of his past choices.

    “If we can’t give them a chance,” Ariana said softly, her tone shifting. “If we can’t try to build something better—then what are we even fighting for?”

    Cullen looked away, as if struggling to reconcile her words with his own memories. Finally, he exhaled heavily. “You’re right. We’ve seen what fear and control can do. But that doesn’t make this easy.”

    “None of this is easy,” she said, a faint, tired smile tugging at her lips. “But I think we’re used to that by now.”

    Cullen chuckled softly, the tension in the air easing slightly. “That we are.”

    Ariana reached out, placing her hand over his. “Talk to the Rangers, Cullen,” she said. “We’ve had mages and Templars living together for years. Michael and Malcolm can help the Templars understand this new role. And Eshara and Cador can speak with the Grand Enchanter. They’ve been through so much—one a Dalish mage who’s never known Templar oversight, the other a Circle escapee—but they’ve all learned to trust each other.”

    Cullen blinked, visibly surprised. “That’s… a good idea,” he said, his voice laced with both relief and something close to embarrassment. “Thank you.”

    As he stood to leave, Ariana caught a flicker of something in his expression—gratitude, perhaps, or an unspoken apology for his earlier defensiveness. She reached for his hand, pulling him back for a moment. As he neared the edge of the bed again, she knelt in front of him, wrapping her arms around him “We’ll figure this out, I promise.” she said as she leaned in to kiss him.

    His hands settled on her waist, steadying her. When they parted, he held her gaze for a moment before nodding “Dinner, tonight?” he asked as his hand brushed her cheek.

    Ariana smiled, simply nodding her agreement. With that, Cullen turned around to leave.

    When the door closed behind him, she glanced at her forearm, the ache still lingering in her mind. For now, the path forward was clear, but she couldn’t ignore the scars—both visible and unseen—that she and Cullen carried.

    She just hoped that this time, they could carry them together.

    ~~~

    Cullen stepped out of Ariana’s quarters, his thoughts a tangled mess of worry and frustration. Her words lingered, cutting deeper with every repetition. “I’ve seen what magic can do. I know the damage it can cause.” The weight in her tone had been undeniable, but it was the way she’d rubbed her left forearm—fingers tracing the same spot over and over—that haunted him. Whatever pain she carried wasn’t just emotional; it was rooted in something far more tangible.

    As he walked through Haven, his gaze scanned the camp, his mind racing with questions. It wasn’t until he spotted Isabel by the training grounds, directing Rangers with her usual brisk efficiency, that he felt a faint flicker of clarity. If anyone knew what Ariana was hiding, it was Isabel.

    “Isabel,” he called, his tone clipped but steady.

    She turned, her green eyes narrowing slightly as she caught sight of his troubled expression. “Commander,” she replied, her voice calm but laced with curiosity. “What can I do for you?”

    Cullen crossed the distance between them, his jaw tight. “I need to ask you something about Ariana.”

    The faintest hint of tension flickered across Isabel’s face, though she masked it quickly. “What about her?”

    “She said something earlier,” he began, his voice low. “‘One mage—one man—doesn’t justify mistreating all others. I’ve seen what magic can do. I know the damage it can cause.’” He hesitated, searching her face for any sign of recognition. “She spoke like she’s lived it. Like she knows exactly what magic can do—and not just from observation.”

    Isabel’s lips pressed into a thin line, her arms crossing over her chest. “And you think I know what she meant.”

    “I do,” Cullen said, his tone firm. “You’ve been with her through everything. If anyone knows what she’s hiding, it’s you.”

    For a moment, Isabel’s gaze softened, but then she straightened, her posture defensive. “Do you remember the morning after you proposed?” she asked suddenly, her voice steady but pointed.

    The shift caught him off guard, but the memory came rushing back—the quiet joy of that morning tempered by Isabel’s cautious words. “I do,” he said slowly, his brow furrowing. “You told me she’d been through storms most wouldn’t survive.”

    “I did,” Isabel confirmed, her expression unreadable. “And I asked you if you could live with the knowledge that there were things you might never know about her—things she might never tell you.”

    Cullen’s frown deepened, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “That was years ago, Isabel. Things are different now. If she’s carrying something this heavy, don’t I have a right to know?”

    Isabel’s gaze hardened, her green eyes locking onto his. “Did you ever tell her about Kinloch Hold?”

    The question hit him like a blow, and he froze. His breath caught, and his gaze dropped to the ground. He hadn’t—not then, not now. Even minutes ago, when Ariana had asked directly, he had deflected. He exhaled heavily, guilt twisting in his chest.

    “That’s what I thought,” Isabel said, her voice quieter but no less firm. “You want answers, Cullen, but you’re not giving her the same.”

    He opened his mouth to argue but stopped, her words cutting too close to the truth. She was right—he’d held his own demons close, unwilling to let Ariana shoulder his burdens. How could he expect her to do any differently?

    “She was rubbing her left arm,” he said finally, his tone softer now. “Not the mark—something else. What happened to her?”

    Isabel’s expression faltered, the faintest flicker of pain crossing her face. “And you think asking me will help?” she said, her voice sharper now. “Do you think dragging it into the open will make it easier for her to carry?”

    “I’m not trying to push,” Cullen said, though his voice carried an edge of determination. “But she’s not fine, Isabel. I can see it.”

    “She’s not,” Isabel admitted, her voice dropping. For a moment, the mask slipped, and Cullen saw the weight of her own worry for Ariana. “She hasn’t been fine for a long time. But that’s not my story to tell, and it’s not yours to force out of her.”

    His frustration flared, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “And what if she never tells me? Isabel, you’re shaken just thinking about it. Whatever it is—it’s worse than I imagined, isn’t it?”

    Her silence spoke volumes. Isabel turned away, her jaw tightening as though struggling to keep her composure. When she finally looked back, her gaze was steady but filled with an emotion Cullen couldn’t quite name. “It is worse,” she said quietly. “But that doesn’t mean she’s ready to share it. And it doesn’t mean you’re ready to hear it.”

    Cullen took a step back, her words landing with the weight of a blow. “Why wouldn’t I be ready?”

    Isabel’s gaze softened slightly, a flicker of sympathy breaking through her defenses. “Because you’re carrying your own scars, Cullen. Scars you haven’t told her about. If you want her to trust you with hers, you need to be willing to share yours.”

    Her words hit home, and Cullen’s shoulders sagged. He let out a slow breath, running a hand through his hair. He hated how right she was. He hated that his own silence had set the precedent for theirs.

    “Be patient with her,” Isabel said, her voice gentler now. “She’s carrying more than you know. And I suspect… you’ll understand her better than anyone. But only if you’re willing to meet her halfway.”

    Cullen nodded slowly, the knot in his chest tightening further. “I just want to protect her.”

    “I know,” Isabel said softly, her voice tinged with a sadness that mirrored his own. “But sometimes, protecting someone means letting them come to you in their own time.”

    She turned and walked away, her braid swaying behind her. Cullen watched her go, the weight of her words settling over him. He stood there for a long moment, the crisp Haven air biting against his skin, but it did little to quell the storm inside him.

    As he made his way back toward the war room, her final words echoed in his mind. Meet her halfway.

    He clenched his jaw, resolve hardening in his chest. If Ariana was carrying secrets, then so was he. If he wanted to break down the walls between them, it would mean tearing down his own first.

    And yet, the questions lingered, gnawing at him. What happened to her? And when would she finally let him in?

    ~~~

    Isabel strode into Ariana’s quarters without knocking, the door swinging open with enough force to send a faint breeze through the room. Ariana, seated cross-legged on her bed with a book resting on her knees, looked up sharply, startled by the abrupt entrance.

    “Maker, Ariana,” Isabel began, her voice sharp as she shut the door firmly behind her. “What did you do?”

    Ariana frowned, closing the book and setting it aside. “What are you talking about?”

    “Cullen,” Isabel hissed, her arms crossing tightly over her chest. Her green eyes flashed with frustration as she stepped closer. “What did you say to him? How did you manage to bring Krieger into a conversation?”

    Ariana blinked, caught off guard. “I didn’t,” she said, shaking her head firmly. “Why would I—what makes you think I did?”

    Isabel’s jaw tightened, more from unease than anger. “Cullen asked me about your arm,” she said, her voice lowering. “Your arm, Ariana. He said you made some comment about mages, about knowing what magic can do, and you were rubbing it the entire time. You think he wouldn’t notice that?”

    Ariana’s brows furrowed as confusion flickered across her face. “I… was?” She hesitated, her voice quieter. “He… noticed that?”

    “Of course he did,” Isabel snapped, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “It’s Cullen. If it’s about you, he’ll always notice.”

    Ariana opened her mouth to respond but faltered, the weight of Isabel’s words sinking in. Her frown deepened. “I wasn’t trying to bring that up,” she said after a moment, her voice defensive. “The conversation was about templars and mages—it just… happened. I didn’t think he’d pay attention to something so…”

    “So significant,” Isabel finished, her tone biting. “Because it is significant, Ariana. Maker’s breath, you’re still doing it. The same thing you’ve always done—dodging, deflecting, and hoping no one connects the dots. But Cullen’s not a fool, and you’re making it impossible for him to ignore.”

    Ariana stood, her posture rigid as she met Isabel’s glare head-on. “I’m not doing anything,” she retorted, her tone clipped. “Cullen knows more about me than anyone ever will. But this? This is mine, Isabel. It’s my burden, and he doesn’t need to carry it.”

    “Yours?” Isabel repeated incredulously, stepping closer, her voice rising. “You’re not the only one carrying this, Ariana. The Vanguard carries this secret for you. I carry this secret for you. We all protect the knowledge of what happened like our lives depend on it. And yet here you are, carrying it into everything you do—into conversations with Cullen, into the way you move, into how you look at that arm. And you think you can just bury it forever?”

    “Yes,” Ariana snapped, her voice sharp. “I’ve done it for years, and I’ll keep doing it. And don’t you dare tell me what I can or can’t carry.”

    Isabel’s eyes darkened, frustration simmering beneath her usually calm exterior. “You think not talking about it means it’s gone? That burying it means you’ve won?”

    “I’ve survived,” Ariana shot back, her voice rising with each word. “That’s all that matters.”

    Isabel’s expression softened for a brief moment, though her voice remained steady and unyielding. “You’ve survived, yes. But you haven’t healed.”

    The words struck like a blow. Ariana looked away, her jaw tightening. “I don’t need to heal,” she said quietly, though her voice carried a steel edge. “I need to fight. That’s all that matters.”

    “And when the fight is over?” Isabel asked, her voice gentler now but no less insistent. “What then? What will you do when you can’t distract yourself with the next battle, the next mission? Do you think this will just disappear?”

    Ariana’s hands clenched at her sides. “I can’t tell him,” she said, her voice taut with emotion. “You know what he’d do. He’d blame himself. He’d think if we hadn’t been separated during the Blight, he could’ve stopped it—that it’s his fault. And I won’t let him carry that. Not for this. Not for me.”

    Isabel exhaled, her green eyes softening as she studied Ariana’s face. “And you don’t think he deserves the chance to decide that for himself? To be there for you, like you’ve been there for him?”

    “No,” Ariana replied simply, her voice resolute. “Not for this. He has enough on his shoulders already. I won’t add to it.”

    Isabel sighed, her frustration giving way to a weary sadness. “For what it’s worth,” she said quietly, “I think Cullen is probably the only person who would truly understand what you went through. But he can’t understand if you don’t let him in.”

    Ariana didn’t reply, her gaze locked on the floor as her thoughts churned.

    Isabel took a step toward the door, her hand resting on the handle. She hesitated, glancing back over her shoulder. Her voice softened, carrying a mix of resignation and hope. “Cullen loves you, Ariana. More than anything. I think he’s stronger than you give him credit for.”

    With that, Isabel opened the door and slipped out, leaving Ariana alone with her storm of emotions. For a long moment, she stood motionless in the center of the room, her hands trembling faintly at her sides.

    Her gaze drifted to her left forearm, the ache there so familiar it felt like part of her. She pressed her hand against it, her touch light but lingering, as though trying to soothe an old wound. Isabel’s words echoed in her mind, intertwining with her own doubts.

    “I can’t,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Not yet.”

    But as the door clicked shut behind Isabel, doubt crept in, insistent and unrelenting. For the first time in years, she wondered if burying the past was truly enough—or if it was finally time to face it.

    ~~~

    Cullen lay on his bed, staring at the darkened ceiling of his quarters. The steady crackle of the hearth filled the room, its faint warmth doing little to ease the chill settling in his chest. Sleep hovered just out of reach, elusive and mocking, as his thoughts churned endlessly.

    Her nightmares.

    The memory surfaced sharply, cutting through the haze of exhaustion. It wasn’t something he often thought about—not beyond concern for her well-being. The nightmares weren’t frequent, but the few times he’d been there to witness them, they were always the same. She’d wake suddenly, her breath quick and shallow, her eyes wide with disorientation and fear. And she’d rub her left arm as if trying to soothe some invisible pain.

    At the time, he’d assumed the cause was the Blight—the horrors she had survived at such a young age. That explanation had seemed logical, obvious. But tonight, after their earlier conversation and Isabel’s pointed reminder, doubt clawed at his mind. He couldn’t ignore it anymore.

    It wasn’t the Blight.

    He sat up slowly, running a hand through his hair, the tension in his chest tightening. Her words earlier had been deliberate, her tone laced with something he hadn’t quite been able to name. When she spoke of mages and magic—of the damage it could cause—there had been a weight behind it, one that didn’t come from secondhand stories or distant observations.

    She wasn’t talking about someone else. She was talking about herself.

    The realization hit him like a hammer. Cullen frowned deeply, his brow furrowing as he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. He thought back to the times she had redirected the subject, deflected his questions, or brushed off his concerns. At the time, he’d accepted her reluctance, assuming she would tell him when she was ready.

    Now, he couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling that he had missed something vital—that he hadn’t asked the right questions or pressed hard enough when she needed him to.

    His mind replayed the memory of her rubbing her arm during their conversation earlier. What happened to her arm? It had nothing to do with the mark. This had been happening for years.

    The image of her doing the same thing after waking from her nightmares resurfaced, sharper and more vivid. He’d comforted her in those moments, holding her close and whispering reassurances. But he had never pressed her to explain. Why hadn’t he seen it before?

    Cullen exhaled sharply, his hands clasping together tightly. Why didn’t she tell me?

    The answer came swiftly, settling heavily in his chest. She hadn’t told him because she didn’t want to burden him. Ariana had always carried so much on her own, never wanting to share the weight of her pain with anyone else. Perhaps she thought she was protecting him. Perhaps she didn’t trust herself to relive whatever haunted her.

    But that didn’t make it easier to accept.

    He pushed himself to his feet, pacing the small space of his quarters as his thoughts spiraled. She trusted him—he knew that. Yet there was a wall between them, built brick by brick from years of secrets, scars, and unspoken truths.

    Whatever she’s hiding, it isn’t just hurting her—it’s isolating her.

    The thought of her facing it alone twisted something inside him. He’d seen the strength she carried, the way she pushed forward despite everything. But no one—not even Ariana—could endure forever without breaking.

    Tomorrow, they would face the Breach. The stakes had never been higher, and there was no room for distraction. But tonight, his mind and heart remained fixed on her—on the pain she carried and the truth she refused to share.

    Cullen clenched his fists, his resolve hardening. I’ll find a way to help her, even if she doesn’t let me in. I won’t let her carry this alone any longer.

    He returned to the bed, though sleep felt further away than ever. As he lay back down, staring at the flickering shadows cast by the fire, the ache in his chest lingered—a reminder that some battles were fought not with swords, but with patience and love.

    And this was a battle he would not lose.

    ~~~

    Ariana lay curled under the blankets in her quarters, the faint light of a candle casting long shadows across the walls. Her fingers traced absent patterns along the edge of the quilt, her thoughts spiraling into places she had long avoided. Tonight, she couldn’t push them away.

    It had been years since she’d let herself truly think about Krieger. She told herself she’d buried it, locked it behind walls stronger than any fortress. But tonight, Cullen’s words and Isabel’s confrontation had shifted something. Cracks had formed, and the memories seeped through.

    Her left arm ached faintly, the pain not real but remembered. She flexed her fingers, but the phantom sensation lingered. She could still feel the cold of that night, the bite of the winter air on her exposed skin, the ropes cutting into her wrists as she was bound to the post in the center of the camp.

    “You think you’re strong.”

    Krieger’s voice slithered through her mind, as chilling as it had been then. His calculated cruelty, his relentless determination to break her, had burned itself into her memory. She could see his piercing blue eyes, devoid of mercy, as he pressed the blade to her arm. She hadn’t made a sound. Not then. Not ever.

    The cold fire of humiliation burned hotter than the frost on her skin. Dragged into the center of the camp, her dignity stripped away, she had been made a spectacle. A warning. She had refused to look away, to give him the satisfaction of seeing her falter, but it had cost her. Every night, he reopened the wounds, whispering incantations that set her blood alight, warping her body and soul with his twisted magic.

    Her hand drifted unconsciously to her forearm, rubbing it gently. The scars were long gone, but the phantom pain lingered. The worst part wasn’t the memory of the physical torment or even the humiliation. It was the helplessness—the gnawing, all-consuming feeling of powerlessness. She hated how it still crept into her mind, undermining the person she had worked so hard to become.

    She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the memories to fade. But the harder she tried to push them away, the more vivid they became. The sound of her own ragged breathing, the glow of the blood magic binding her, the searing heat that left her writhing against the ropes. And worst of all, the silence that followed.

    The silence that told her she was alone.

    No.

    Her fingers gripped the quilt tightly, her knuckles whitening. She’d refused to break then, and she wouldn’t let it break her now. She had survived. She had walked away, not him. That was her victory. Her defiance.

    But Cullen’s words haunted her as much as the memory itself. “What are you talking about? What did you see?”

    She’d brushed him off, deflected as she always did, but he had seen her. Truly seen her in a way no one else ever had. He had noticed the way she rubbed her arm, the way her words carried a weight she hadn’t intended to reveal. And now, he was asking questions she wasn’t sure she could answer.

    Because if Cullen ever learned the truth—what Krieger had done, what she had endured—he would blame himself. He would take it on as his failure, his guilt. And he didn’t deserve that. She wouldn’t let him carry the weight of something that wasn’t his burden to bear.

    It was my mistake. My burden. Not his.

    Her breathing slowed as she repeated the thought like a mantra. She had survived. She had endured. And she had walked away with her dignity intact. That was all that mattered.

    But a quiet voice in the back of her mind whispered a different truth.

    You haven’t walked away from it, not really.

    Her chest tightened as her hand moved to her forearm again, the ache still there, as if her body refused to let her forget. Survival had been her focus, her purpose for so long, that she hadn’t stopped to consider what came after. She had become the White Wolf, built the Silver Rangers, fought for mages, for innocents, for everything Krieger had sought to destroy. Yet, the ghost of his voice lingered in her mind, his presence a shadow she could never fully escape.

    Ariana exhaled shakily, her thoughts shifting to Cullen. He would want to know. He would insist on knowing. And if she told him, his first instinct would be to blame himself. He’d convince himself that if they hadn’t been separated during the Blight, he could have stopped it—that it was his fault she had suffered. She couldn’t let him bear that.

    But there was another fear, one she hated to admit. Cullen’s trust in mages was fragile, the scars of Kinloch Hold and Kirkwall still fresh in his mind. If he learned what Krieger had done, what he had been capable of, would it push Cullen further into that distrust? Would it undo the progress he had made—the trust he had placed in her and in their alliance?

    The thought left her cold. She couldn’t take that risk.

    Her hand stilled against her arm as her gaze drifted to the flickering candlelight. Tomorrow, they would face the Breach. The stakes had never been higher, and she had every intention of seeing it through. But a part of her wondered if this was it—if tomorrow would be her end.

    If I fall… then none of this will matter. The thought was both freeing and suffocating. The weight of what she carried wouldn’t have to be passed on, wouldn’t hurt Cullen or anyone else. But the guilt of not telling him, of not giving him the truth before it was too late, gnawed at her.

    As she lay staring at the shadows on the walls, her resolve wavered. She had survived Krieger, survived the Blight, survived every battle and betrayal that had come her way. But survival wasn’t the same as healing. And for the first time in years, she wondered if that was truly within reach.

    Her eyes closed as sleep finally pulled her under, her last thought a fragile plea.

    Please, let tomorrow be enough.