Tag: Solas

  • 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 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 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 71 – In the Shadow of the Breach

    23 Bloomingtide 9:41

    Cullen stood near the gates, issuing final instructions to the troops. His sharp commands cut through the morning air, but his mind was elsewhere. His gaze kept drifting toward the center of camp, scanning the movements of soldiers and mages alike. Despite the meticulous preparations, an unease had taken root within him. Something he couldn’t shake.

    Then he saw her.

    Ariana emerged from her quarters, and for a moment, Cullen’s words failed him. Her armor, though practical, carried an undeniable elegance—deep blue accented with silver etchings that caught the morning light, regal without being ostentatious. The fitted leather corset hugged her form, emphasizing her strength more than her figure, while the fur-lined cloak draped over her shoulders lent her an air of quiet authority. Her hands flexed briefly at her sides, the faint glow of the mark on her palm catching his eye even through the glove. Her daggers rested at her hips, their hilts familiar and ready, but there was no tension in her stance. Instead, there was resolve—steady, enduring, and unwavering.

    She moved with the quiet confidence he had come to admire, but Cullen could see the weight in her posture—the awareness of what lay ahead. The Breach pulsed ominously in the distance, and though she was determined, no one could face such a trial without feeling its enormity.

    Their eyes met across the distance, and he inclined his head, his silent acknowledgment drawing a faint smile from her. She adjusted her stride, walking toward him.

    “Commander,” she said as she approached, her tone light but carrying a note of finality.

    “Ariana,” he replied, his voice softer than he intended. He glanced around briefly, ensuring the soldiers were occupied before stepping closer and placing a hand on her waist. “Are you ready?”

    “As much as I’ll ever be,” she replied, a flicker of humor in her voice. But her eyes betrayed her. She was steady, focused—but not invincible. And the knowledge tightened something in his chest.

    “Ariana,” he began, his tone dropping to something quieter, more personal. “I need you to promise me something.”

    She tilted her head slightly, a flicker of curiosity crossing her face. “What is it?”

    “Be careful,” he said, the words heavy with meaning. “I know what’s at stake—I know what you’re walking into. But I also know you. You take risks, more than you should, and I can’t—” He cut himself off, his jaw tightening as he fought to find the right words. “I can’t lose you.”

    Her expression softened, and she took a step closer. “Cullen…”

    He met her gaze, the intensity in his eyes catching her off guard. “Promise me, Ariana. Promise me you’ll come back.”

    Her expression softened as she placed her hand on his arm. “Is that an order, Commander?” she asked, a teasing smile tugging at her lips.

    Cullen blinked, momentarily taken aback before a soft chuckle escaped him. “It is,” he said, his tone light but the earnestness in his eyes unwavering.

    Ariana shook her head, her smile widening. “You’re awfully demanding, you know that?”

    “It’s a skill that comes with the rank,” he replied, his lips quirking into a small smile.

    “Well,” she said, tilting her head slightly, “I’ll do my best not to disappoint you.”

    “You never do,” Cullen replied softly, his gaze holding hers. “But I need your promise, Ariana. Promise me you’ll come back.”

    Her teasing expression faltered, replaced by something more serious. She hesitated, the weight of his request settling over her. “I’ll do everything I can to come back,” she said quietly. “I promise.”

    He exhaled, relief flickering across his face, though his concern didn’t entirely fade. “Thank you.”

    For a moment, they stood in silence, the weight of the morning pressing down on them. Finally, Ariana broke the tension with a faint smirk. “You know, for someone who claims he can’t lose me, you’re very good at sending me off into mortal danger.”

    Cullen let out a soft laugh, the sound easing some of the tension in the air. “It’s not my preference, believe me.”

    “Good,” she quipped, the lightness returning to her voice. “I’d hate to think you were getting comfortable with it.”

    “Not in the slightest,” he replied, his smile softening as he glanced toward the Breach. “But I believe in you, Ariana. More than you know.”

    Her smirk softened into a genuine smile, and she inclined her head. “I’ll see you when this is done, Commander.”

    “Until then… Herald,” Cullen said, his voice steady but warm.

    As she turned and walked away, Cullen watched her go, the unease in his chest warring with the flicker of hope her promise had given him. Today, the fate of the world rested on her shoulders—and all he could do was trust her to return.

    ~~~

    The weight of Cullen’s words followed Ariana like a shadow as they neared the Temple of Sacred Ashes. The brisk mountain air stung her cheeks, but the ache in her chest was far harder to ignore. Promise me you’ll come back.

    The memory played over and over, each repetition tying a knot tighter around her ribs. He hadn’t just asked her—he’d ordered her, his voice both unyielding and pleading. The desperation in his eyes had spoken louder than his words, and she’d felt it like a blow. She had promised, of course, but she knew promises weren’t guarantees.

    Ahead of her, Solas walked with his usual grace, his shoulders set with purpose. He was explaining something about the mark and its connection to the Veil, but his voice barely registered over the noise in her head. The Breach pulsed ominously in the sky, its unnatural green glow casting an eerie light over their path.

    “Ariana,” Solas said, his voice breaking through her thoughts. He slowed his pace, turning to meet her gaze. “Are you listening?”

    She blinked, refocusing. “Yes,” she lied, though her tone lacked conviction.

    Solas turned back toward her, his expression unreadable. “Remember, Herald,” he said quietly, his tone cautious but firm. “When the time comes, you must focus. The energy will be overwhelming, and the temptation to let it consume you will be strong. You must fight it.”

    “I will,” Ariana interrupted, her voice firmer now. “I know what’s at stake.”

    Solas nodded, though his expression betrayed a flicker of doubt. “Good. Then let us proceed.”

    Cassandra fell into step beside her, her presence a steadying force. “You will succeed,” she said, her tone more commanding than reassuring. “You have come this far. Do not falter now.”

    “I don’t intend to,” Ariana replied, though her voice was softer than Cassandra’s.

    Still, Cullen’s voice echoed in her mind. Promise me you’ll come back. She had given him that promise, but as she stared ahead at the Breach, she couldn’t ignore the uncertainty gnawing at her. She knew what she was walking into, knew the risks, but Cullen’s words had turned the stakes into something more personal.

    Dorian, sensing the tension, sidled up beside her. “You know,” he began, his tone light, “if you die up there, I’m going to be insufferable. I’ll have to write a tragic ode, mourn you dramatically, and make everyone feel guilty for not appreciating you enough while you were alive.”

    Ariana snorted softly despite herself. “Is that your idea of encouragement?”

    “Encouragement?” Dorian feigned offense, placing a hand over his chest. “Darling, I’m trying to motivate you with the sheer horror of leaving me to suffer through all this without you.”

    “You’re terrible at this,” she said, shaking her head.

    “Terrible? Or brilliant?” he quipped, flashing her a grin. “I’m fairly certain it’s the latter.”

    “Both,” Cassandra interjected, her tone dry.

    “Ah, Seeker,” Dorian said with a dramatic sigh. “Your faith in me is as unwavering as ever.”

    “Unwaveringly skeptical,” she replied, though a faint smirk tugged at her lips.

    Ariana allowed herself a brief smile, the banter pulling her from her thoughts, if only for a moment. But as they continued their march, her mind inevitably returned to Cullen. The way he’d looked at her, the way his hand had lingered on her waist—it had been more than worry. It had been fear.

    And she hated that she couldn’t ease it.

    I will survive, she told herself again, her hand unconsciously brushing the mark on her palm. The faint glow pulsed beneath her glove, a reminder of the power she carried—and the cost it might demand.

    “Peace and quiet,” she muttered under her breath, echoing the earlier banter. “I could use that right about now.”

    “Boring,” Dorian replied, overhearing her. “But if it’s what you truly want, I suppose I could learn to respect it. Temporarily.”

    She smiled faintly, but her gaze remained fixed on the Breach. It loomed larger now, its malevolent light casting their shadows long across the rocky path.

    Just survive, she thought again, her promise to Cullen like an anchor in the storm of her thoughts. Whatever happens, just survive. And she would. No matter the cost. Because losing him again wasn’t something she could bear. Not when they had finally found their way back to each other. Not when they still had a future to fight for.

    ~~~

    The Temple of Sacred Ashes loomed before them, its ruins casting jagged, haunting shadows over the gathered forces stationed at a “safe” distance. Soldiers and templars held their positions, their stances rigid, the tension palpable even from afar. The area closest to the Breach was reserved for Ariana, Cassandra, Solas, Dorian, and the mages prepared to lend their strength.

    Ariana stared up at the swirling, sickly green tear in the sky. It pulsed with an unnatural rhythm, like a heartbeat gone horribly wrong, casting an eerie glow over the shattered remnants of the temple. The sight of it twisted something deep inside her, a mix of dread and resolve. This was it—the moment that would decide everything.

    Solas stepped forward, his voice calm yet commanding as he addressed the mages. “Focus past the Herald! Let her will draw from you. Offer no resistance—be as the current to her hand.”

    The mages nodded, their expressions a mix of fear, determination, and resignation. Ariana took a deep breath, her fingers curling into fists before she forced them to relax. Her heart pounded in her chest, loud and steady, as if trying to remind her she was still alive. For now.

    The Breach loomed impossibly large, its hum vibrating through her bones, making the mark on her hand throb in recognition. It felt as though the Breach itself saw her, hated her for daring to challenge it. She didn’t need to glance back to know every eye was on her—companions, soldiers, templars, and mages alike. For them, she couldn’t falter.

    But her thoughts betrayed her. Cullen’s voice echoed in her mind, unshakable and grounding. Promise me you’ll come back. Promise me.

    How could I have promised him that? she thought bitterly, her gaze fixed on the Breach. She felt the warmth of his hand again, the intensity of his eyes, the weight of his words. She had meant it when she said she’d come back—Maker, how she had meant it. But now, standing in the shadow of the Breach, the sheer force of its energy washing over her like an ocean tide, the promise felt fragile, breakable.

    And yet, she couldn’t let it end here. She couldn’t let the last few days—their quiet moments, their stolen glances, and the memory of his hand brushing her cheek—be the only thing they got. After all these years, after everything they had lost, she couldn’t leave it at that. She had once promised him her whole life, and now, more than ever, she was determined that life would be a long one. It has to be.

    “You can do this, Herald,” Cassandra said from behind her, her voice steady and strong. Ariana glanced over her shoulder and saw the Seeker’s nod of encouragement, the rare softness in her otherwise stern expression.

    Dorian caught her eye, offering a grin. “Don’t forget to make it look good. You’ve got an audience.”

    Ariana huffed a quiet laugh, though it was more an exhale than anything else. Solas stood still, his expression unreadable but his presence somehow steadying.

    Turning back to the Breach, Ariana raised her hand. The mark on her palm ignited, searing with light as the power surged outward. She forced her focus onto the rift, drawing on the strength of the mages behind her. Energy crackled in the air, wild and volatile, threatening to pull her apart as she wrestled to control it.

    The torrent of magic felt endless, an ocean she was trying to contain with bare hands. It was chaos—violent, unrelenting chaos—and it demanded everything from her. Her mind screamed for relief, her body trembled from the strain, but she refused to give in.

    The Breach pushed back, its power surging in defiance. For a terrible moment, she thought it might consume her entirely. But then Cullen’s words came back, firm and steady: But I believe in you, Ariana. More than you know.

    Then believe in me now, she thought fiercely. Gritting her teeth, she pushed harder, her entire being focused on the task. The mark flared brighter, and the Breach wavered, its edges folding inward.

    With a deafening sound like thunder splitting the heavens, the Breach collapsed in on itself. The green light dimmed, folding smaller and smaller until, with a final boom, it vanished. A shockwave rippled outward, throwing everyone to the ground.

    The silence that followed was staggering.

    Cassandra was the first to recover, scrambling to her feet and scanning the area. Mages groaned as they pulled themselves upright, many looking dazed. Soldiers in the distance stood frozen, their breaths visible in the chill morning air.

    “Ariana?” Cassandra’s voice was sharp, urgent as her eyes searched the wreckage.

    Near the center of the ruins, Ariana was down on one knee, her hand pressed into the ground for balance. Her breathing was heavy, her head bowed, but she was upright. Cassandra was at her side in moments, kneeling to place a firm hand on her shoulder.

    “You did it!” Cassandra said, her voice filled with a rare note of pride and something bordering on awe.

    Ariana raised her head, exhaustion plain on her face. For a moment, she simply blinked at Cassandra, her mind struggling to process the words. Then, slowly, a small, tired smile tugged at her lips. “We did it,” she corrected softly.

    The cheers began faintly, scattered voices among the mages and soldiers. Then, like a wave, the sound grew, rolling across the battlefield as the realization of what had happened sank in. The Breach was gone.

    Ariana swayed as she stood, Cassandra immediately steadying her. Her legs felt like lead, and every muscle in her body protested, but she forced herself upright.

    Dorian and Solas reached her, their expressions triumphant.

    “Not bad for someone who just traveled through time,” Dorian said with a grin, clapping her lightly on the shoulder.

    Solas offered a small nod of approval. “You are more resilient than I gave you credit for, Herald.”

    Ariana let out a soft laugh, though it was weak. Her gaze drifted to the temple ruins behind them, the absence of the Breach almost surreal. For the first time in what felt like ages, there was a glimmer of hope.

    Cassandra fell into step beside her as they began walking back, her voice quieter now. “You should be proud. You’ve given them something to believe in.”

    Ariana’s eyes remained distant, her thoughts lingering on Cullen, on the promise she’d made. This isn’t over, she thought as she glanced at her trembling hand. I promised him I’d come back—and I did. But now I need to keep fighting. For him. For us.

    And as they moved through the cheering crowd, her hand drifted briefly to her left forearm. A phantom ache lingered there, a subtle reminder of what she had survived before—and the strength she would need to keep going.

    ~~~

    Cullen stood at the edge of the camp, his posture rigid, arms crossed tightly over his chest. The soldiers around him were cheering, their voices rising in jubilant waves that carried through the chill morning air. But he barely heard it. His gaze was fixed on the distant path winding down from the temple ruins, every muscle in his body taut with anticipation.

    The Breach was gone—that much was clear. The gaping wound in the sky, the unnatural green light that had cast its eerie glow over Haven for what felt like an eternity, was no more. Relief swept through him like a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, but it wasn’t complete. Not yet.

    Not until he saw her.

    Time dragged cruelly, each passing second tightening the knot in his chest. He had never felt so powerless, forced to stand on the sidelines while she faced the impossible. He clenched his hands into fists, the leather of his gloves creaking under the strain. The thought of losing her—after finally getting her back after all these years—was unbearable. He had promised himself once, long ago, that Ariana would be his wife, that their lives would intertwine. He hadn’t given up on that dream. He wouldn’t.

    At last, movement on the path caught his eye. A group was descending from the ruins: mages, templars, soldiers. And then, at the center of it all—Ariana.

    His breath left him in a rush, his shoulders sagging slightly as the tension drained from his body. She moved with purpose, though her steps were slower than usual. Her armor bore new scratches, and a faint red mark marred her temple where debris must have struck her. But she was upright. She was alive.

    Cullen let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, relief washing over him like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. She had kept her promise.

    Her gaze found his even from a distance, and he saw the faint curve of her lips—a tired, triumphant smile. She had done it. Of course she had. She always did.

    Before he knew it, his legs were carrying him toward her, his strides quick and determined. The closer he came, the more he could see the weariness etched into her features, the subtle tremor in her movements. But she was here. She was whole.

    When they finally stood face-to-face, he reached for her hands without hesitation, his fingers curling around hers as though he needed to feel her warmth to believe she was real.

    “You’re alright,” he said softly, his voice carrying a mix of relief and something deeper—something he couldn’t quite put into words.

    Ariana tilted her head, her smile growing faintly mischievous despite her weariness. “Of course I am. I had orders to follow, didn’t I?”

    Cullen let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “So that’s what it takes to get you to listen—formal orders?”

    “Apparently,” she replied, her tone light but her eyes betraying the weight of what she’d just endured. “You might want to savor the moment. I’m not known for making a habit of it.”

    “I’ll take what I can get,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips. His hands tightened slightly around hers as he added, more seriously, “You did it. Ariana, you…” His words faltered, emotion tightening his throat.

    Ariana squeezed his hands gently, her gaze steady. “We did it,” she corrected, her voice soft but resolute. “I couldn’t have done this alone.”

    Cullen nodded, though his expression betrayed the depth of his feelings. He couldn’t fully agree. To him, the Breach might have been sealed with the strength of many, but the weight of it had rested squarely on her shoulders.

    “Come on,” Ariana said after a moment, her tone shifting to something lighter. “Let’s get back to Haven. I could use a hot meal. Or a nap. Maybe both.”

    “Both sounds reasonable,” Cullen replied, stepping beside her as they began walking down the path together.

    The noise of the camp grew louder as they approached, but for a while, they walked in companionable silence. Cullen’s hand remained entwined with hers, the contact grounding them both.

    His mind drifted back to the promises he had made to himself—back in Kirkwall, back during the Blight, and all the days in between. He had vowed to stand by her, to fight for her, to give her the life she deserved. He had never stopped believing in that dream, even when the world had done its best to tear them apart.

    As they neared the gates of Haven, Ariana glanced at him, her expression softer now. “Thank you,” she said quietly.

    “For what?” Cullen asked, his brow furrowing slightly.

    “For making me promise,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “For reminding me to survive.”

    Cullen didn’t respond immediately, but the look he gave her said more than words could. Finally, he squeezed her hand again and murmured, “Always.”

    They crossed the gates together, the weight of the day lingering like a shadow, but for now, the promise of tomorrow felt a little less daunting with their hands clasped firmly between them.

    ~~~

    The festive air in Haven was intoxicating. Laughter and music spilled from the tavern, bonfires crackled warmly, and the scent of roasted meats mingled with the crisp mountain breeze. People danced and sang, sharing exaggerated tales of heroism and daring feats. For the first time in months, the shadow of despair no longer loomed over the camp.

    Ariana stood near the Chantry courtyard, her arms crossed as she leaned on a stack of crates. The faint glow of lanterns lit the faces of those gathered below, their smiles radiant in the soft light. She allowed herself a rare moment to simply watch, her lips curving into a small smile.

    This is what hope feels like, she thought. This is what we’re fighting for.

    The Breach was gone, sealed by her own hand with the strength of the mages behind her. For the first time since the Conclave, the sky above Haven was still. It felt like breathing fresh air after being submerged for far too long. They were one step closer to preventing the dark future she had seen, and the weight of that knowledge made the celebration feel even more meaningful.

    But even as she tried to let the joy of the moment settle over her, a quiet tension lingered in the back of her mind. She knew this wasn’t the end—far from it. The Elder One was still out there, his plans still in motion. They had won the battle, but the war had only just begun.

    The sound of boots crunching on the gravel path drew her attention, and she turned to see Cassandra approaching. The Seeker’s expression was calm, but there was a softness in her gaze that betrayed her own sense of relief.

    “Solas confirms the heavens are scarred but calm,” Cassandra said as she came to stand beside her. “The Breach is sealed. We’ve received reports of lingering rifts, and there are still questions to be answered, but… this was a victory. Word of your heroism has spread.”

    Ariana chuckled softly, shaking her head. “Don’t they know I fell into this? Almost literally.”

    Cassandra’s lips twitched into a faint smile. “Perhaps you’re too close to judge. We needed you. We still do. We have yet to discover how the Breach came to be, and that is only the most conspicuous of our troubles.” She paused, her tone turning more somber. “Strange days, and more to come.”

    Ariana nodded, her gaze drifting back to the celebration. “For now, though… let them have this. We’ve all earned it.”

    The moment seemed to linger, a fleeting reprieve in the chaos that had defined their lives. But then, the sound of alarm bells shattered the calm, sharp and jarring against the cheerful din. The music and laughter died instantly, replaced by confusion and fear as people turned toward the source of the noise. Soldiers scrambled, the festive air dissolving into a frantic storm of activity.

    Ariana’s heart clenched, the shift in atmosphere like a blow. Before she could process the sound fully, Cullen’s voice rang out, steady and commanding: “Forces approaching! To arms!”

    Her hand flew to the daggers at her hips as she straightened, the instincts of battle taking over. She exchanged a glance with Cassandra, and in that shared look, no words were needed. They broke into a sprint toward the gates, the light and warmth of Haven fading behind them as chaos surged ahead.

    The clang of armor, the shouted orders, the flicker of torches—it all blurred together as they reached the walls. Soldiers were already forming ranks, their movements quick and practiced, though the tension in the air was thick enough to taste. The faint sound of distant war horns carried through the night, chilling Ariana more than the mountain air ever could.

    And there he was. Cullen stood at the forefront, his presence a steadying anchor amidst the rising storm. The torchlight cast sharp lines across his face, his expression focused and unyielding. His voice cut through the noise with sharp precision, barking orders to the soldiers around him. He had always been this way in battle: calm, collected, decisive. Watching him now, she couldn’t help but marvel at the strength he radiated, the way he commanded not just with authority but with purpose.

    He was made for this, she thought, her heart tightening with something that was equal parts admiration and pride. Cullen had always been a soldier, a leader, but in moments like these, she saw more than that. She saw the man Thedas needed—the man she needed.

    He had carried so much on his shoulders, more than anyone should, and still, he stood. Still, he fought. Ariana rarely allowed herself to admit just how much she believed in him, how much she drew strength from his unwavering focus. But she felt it now, steadying her, grounding her as the chaos swirled around them.

    She had promised herself to him once, long ago. And despite everything, she had never stopped believing in that promise—or in him.

    Ariana forced herself to move, her steps deliberate as she approached him. His voice rang out again, directing soldiers to reinforce the gates, to hold the line. Even as she drew closer, he didn’t falter, didn’t glance away from the soldiers he was rallying.

    “Cullen,” she called, her voice steady despite the unease twisting in her gut.

    His gaze snapped to hers, and for a moment, the tension in his features softened, just barely.

    But before she could say another word, the horns sounded again—closer now. The darkness beyond the gates seemed to pulse, the faint flicker of distant firelight illuminating something… moving.

    Ariana froze, her breath catching as unease coiled tighter in her chest. Whatever was coming, it wasn’t ordinary. It wasn’t human.

    The noise around them grew louder—shouts, orders, the clatter of weapons being drawn. The celebratory glow of Haven had been snuffed out entirely, replaced by the cold, sharp edge of looming danger.

    Cullen stepped forward, his expression hardening once more. “Positions!” he called, his voice carrying over the din.

    Ariana’s hand tightened on the hilt of her dagger as she moved to his side, her heart pounding in her chest. The flicker of torches, the distant horns, the shifting shadows—they all seemed to blur together as the unknown bore down on them.

    Whatever was coming, it was here.

  • Chapter 68 – In Hushed Whispers

    13 – 14 Bloomingtide 9:41

    As they entered Redcliffe, Ariana couldn’t shake the oppressive weight hanging over the village. It was more than the darkened streets and empty homes. The very air felt heavy, like the remnants of fear and betrayal had seeped into the stones. Every mage they passed had the same haunted expression, eyes darting toward the castle with equal parts dread and resentment. The entire village felt hollow, a shell of the hopeful haven it had once been.

    This is what desperation leads to, Ariana thought, her jaw tightening. She couldn’t blame the mages for wanting to survive, but aligning with Tevinter? The very thought made her stomach churn. This wasn’t what Fiona had promised them.

    When they entered Redcliffe Castle, a group of Venatori guards flanked a man Ariana could only assume was Alexius’ personal aide. His posture was stiff, his gaze flickering nervously over the trio as they approached.

    “Announce us,” Ariana commanded, her noble upbringing slipping effortlessly into her tone. She didn’t need to shout; her words carried the authority of someone who expected to be obeyed.

    The aide hesitated, his brow furrowing. “The Magister’s invitation was for Mistress Trevelyan alone. The rest will wait here,” he said, though his discomfort was evident.

    Of course it was, Ariana thought, her irritation flaring. Alexius was already trying to dictate the terms. He underestimates me. Tilting her head slightly, she allowed a faint, polite smile to tug at her lips. “They must accompany me. You wouldn’t deprive me of my attaches, would you?” Her tone was honeyed, but her eyes promised consequences if he refused.

    Her words landed as intended, and the aide relented with a reluctant nod. Ariana’s satisfaction was brief, the dark halls of Redcliffe Castle only deepening her unease.

    “My Lord Magister, the agents of the Inquisition have arrived,” the aide announced as they entered the throne room.

    Alexius, seated in the Arl’s throne as if it were his birthright, rose to greet them. “My friend! It is good to see you again,” he said, his tone smooth and calculated. His gaze flicked briefly to Cassandra and Solas. “And your associates, of course.”

    Friend? Ariana kept her face neutral, returning the greeting with a polite nod and a bow. You don’t even know me.

    “I’m sure we can work out some arrangement that is equitable to all parties,” Alexius continued, his voice dripping with confidence.

    Before Ariana could respond, Fiona emerged from the shadows, startling her. For a brief moment, frustration flared. You. The woman who had led them all here.

    “Are we mages to have no voice in deciding our fate?” Fiona asked, her voice trembling with an emotion Ariana couldn’t quite place.

    Alexius turned to Fiona, his smile smooth but thin. “Fiona, you would not have turned your followers over to my care if you did not trust me with their lives.”

    Ariana latched onto the opportunity to assert control. “If the Grand Enchanter wants to be part of these talks,” she said smoothly, her tone sharper than before, “then I welcome her as a guest of the Inquisition.”

    The flicker of gratitude in Fiona’s eyes surprised Ariana, but it also deepened her suspicion. Why do you look like someone just threw you a lifeline? You made this deal. “Thank you,” Fiona said, nodding toward Ariana.

    Alexius’ irritation was palpable as he returned to his seat on the throne. “The Inquisition needs mages to close the Breach, and I have them. So, what shall you offer in exchange?”

    Ariana smiled, her confidence unwavering. “Nothing at all. I’m just going to take the mages and leave.”

    Fiona’s wide-eyed expression spoke volumes, hope and relief warring on her face.

    Alexius raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “And how do you imagine you’ll accomplish such a feat?”

    Before Ariana could answer, Felix stepped forward, his voice quiet but firm. “She knows everything, Father.”

    Ariana’s gaze flicked to Felix, her heart sinking. What did you do, Felix?

    Alexius turned to his son, his eyes sharp with reproach. “What have you done?”

    Ariana seized the moment, taking a step forward. Her voice was calm but laced with steel. “Your trap has failed, Alexius. You wanted me here. Why?”

    His composed mask cracked, revealing the fanatical fervor beneath. “You walk into my stronghold with your stolen mark—a gift you don’t even understand—and think you’re in control? You’re nothing but a mistake.”

    The insult barely registered. Ariana tilted her head, her voice turning ice-cold. “To be clear, Magister, this is not your stronghold. It belongs to Arl Teagan, to Ferelden. As for the mark, if you know so much, enlighten me.”

    Alexius sneered. “It belongs to your betters. You wouldn’t even begin to understand its purpose.”

    Before Ariana could retort, Dorian stepped in, his sharp voice breaking the tension. “Now he sounds exactly like the sort of villainous cliché everyone expects us to be,” he mocked. His theatrical quip cut through the weight of the moment, and despite herself, Ariana felt a faint flicker of relief. Finally, an ally who isn’t afraid to poke the bear.

    Ariana’s lips quirked into a small smile as Dorian stepped into view, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp.

    “Dorian,” Alexius said, disappointment heavy in his tone. “I gave you a chance to be a part of this. You turned me down. The Elder One has power you would not believe. He will raise the Imperium from its ashes.”

    Ariana’s eyes narrowed as the pieces clicked into place. “That’s who you serve? The one who killed the Divine?”

    Alexius’ fervor burned brighter. “He will make the world bow to mages once more. We will rule from the Boeric Ocean to the Frozen Seas.”

    “You can’t involve my people in this,” Fiona snapped, her voice trembling with anger.

    “Stop it, Father,” Felix interrupted, his voice desperate. “Give up the Venatori. Let the southern mages fight the Breach, and let’s go home.”

    Alexius’ voice cracked as he shouted, “No! It’s the only way, Felix. He can save you. There is a way. The Elder One promised. If I undo the mistake at the Temple…”

    “Save me?” Felix replied, his tone resolute. “I’m going to die, Father. You need to accept that.”

    Ariana’s breath caught as Alexius’ pain twisted into rage. “Seize them, Venatori! The Elder One demands this woman’s life!”

    Before the guards could act, they began dropping to the ground, one by one, dead. Ariana’s scouts had moved into position, the ambush swift and decisive.

    “Your men are dead, Alexius. Give up now,” Ariana commanded, her voice cold and unyielding.

    Alexius’ hand rose, gripping a strange necklace as he snarled, “You… are a mistake! You never should have existed!”

    Dorian’s eyes widened, recognition flashing across his face. “No! He’s casting—”

    Before Alexius could complete his spell, Dorian managed to unleash a counterspell, the disruptive magic colliding with Alexius’ own. The air crackled with energy, and for a brief moment, it seemed like Dorian’s intervention might have worked. 

    But the damage was already done. Chaos erupted as a rift tore through the room, its energy consuming everything in blinding light. As the world dissolved around her, one thought cut through the haze: Cullen. His voice, steady and firm, echoed in her mind. Be careful.

    Darkness consumed her.

    ~~~

    The atmosphere was suffocating, the air thick with an unnatural heaviness that pressed against Ariana’s chest. When her vision cleared, the castle hall she’d just left was gone, replaced by a smaller, darker room that radiated dread. The walls were jagged with veins of red lyrium, their eerie glow casting grotesque shadows and filling the space with a low, ominous hum. It felt alive—malevolent.

    Ariana turned quickly, her heart pounding as she scanned her surroundings. The sight of two Venatori guards startled her, their shock mirrored in her own.

    Don’t think, Ariana. Act.

    Her body moved on instinct. She darted forward, her daggers flashing in the dim light as she and Dorian dispatched the guards with brutal efficiency. Her breath came in sharp gasps as the last one fell, and she wiped her blades clean with trembling hands. The familiar motion did little to steady her.

    She glanced at Dorian, who stood with unnerving calm, already studying the glowing lyrium veins with a detached curiosity.

    “Displacement? Interesting!” he mused, rubbing his chin as though they’d stumbled into an intriguing academic puzzle rather than a nightmare.

    Ariana’s patience frayed. “Displacement? Dorian, where are we?”

    “Not just where, my dear,” he replied, pacing with maddening nonchalance. “But when. Alexius used the amulet as a focus. It moved us through time! Brilliant, really—dangerous, but brilliant.”

    The floor beneath her seemed to tilt as his words sank in. “Through time?” Panic edged her voice, despite her best efforts to control it. “That doesn’t sound good, Dorian.”

    “It sounds terrible,” he admitted, his characteristic humor failing to mask his concern. “Depending on how far we’ve been displaced and what happened while we were away.”

    Her gaze shifted to the walls, where the red lyrium pulsed like a living wound. She had seen its effects before, but not like this. This was infestation. Corruption. It wasn’t just dangerous—it was consuming. How long have we been gone? What’s waiting for us outside these walls?

    “Let’s look around,” Dorian said, breaking her spiraling thoughts. “If we can determine where—and when—we are, we can figure out how to get back… assuming it’s possible.”

    Assuming?” Ariana snapped, her frustration spilling over as she glared at him. “You could’ve started with a little more confidence! What was Alexius even trying to do?”

    Dorian sobered slightly, his usual levity giving way to something heavier. “Erase you from time completely. Without you, the Elder One’s plans could proceed unchallenged. But the spell went wild when I countered it. I believe we’ve been displaced instead.”

    Ariana’s stomach twisted. “Great,” she muttered, sarcasm tinged with bitterness. Not only did I walk into Alexius’ trap, but now I’ve dragged Dorian into it, too.

    As they moved through the castle’s lower levels, the sight of red lyrium twisting through every surface made Ariana’s chest tighten. It spread like a disease, turning stone into grotesque formations that pulsed and hummed. Her fingers tightened around her daggers as guilt whispered insidiously at the edges of her mind. I should’ve stopped Alexius sooner. I should’ve listened to Cullen. Maker, I should’ve done something.

    They stopped abruptly at a cell, and Ariana’s breath caught. Inside, Fiona was barely recognizable. Her body was mangled, twisted by the lyrium that encased her like a grotesque cocoon. The sight was a punch to the gut, each shallow breath Fiona took cutting Ariana deeper.

    “Grand Enchanter?” she called softly, her voice trembling despite herself.

    Fiona stirred, her movements labored and pained. “You’re… alive?” she rasped, her voice barely audible. “How? I saw you… disappear into the rift.”

    Ariana stepped closer, swallowing the lump in her throat. “Fiona, what happened?”

    The answer was worse than she could have imagined. “Red lyrium,” Fiona whispered. “It’s a disease. The longer you’re near it… you become this. Then they mine your corpse for more.”

    Ariana fought the bile rising in her throat, forcing herself to meet Fiona’s glassy gaze. The White Wolf doesn’t falter. You can’t falter now.

    Dorian leaned in, urgency sharpening his tone. “What’s the date? Do you know the year?”

    “Harvestmere,” Fiona rasped, her voice fading. “9:42… Dragon.”

    Ariana staggered back, the words slamming into her like a physical blow. “We’ve missed an entire year?” she repeated, disbelief mixing with horror. What’s happened in that year? What have I allowed to happen by failing?

    Dorian’s expression was grim, the weight of the timeline heavy on him as well. “We need to leave,” he said firmly. “This future cannot stand.”

    Fiona’s voice was barely a whisper now, her strength fading. “Your spymaster… Leliana… she is here. Find her. Quickly… before the Elder One… learns you’re here.”

    Ariana knelt beside Fiona, her voice trembling. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, guilt choking her. “I should’ve protected you. I should’ve—” Her voice broke.

    Fiona’s eyes fluttered closed, her final words a plea. “Make it… right.”

    Ariana rose slowly, her hands trembling but her jaw set. She turned to Dorian, her voice hard. “Let’s go. If Leliana’s here, she’ll know what to do.”

    Every step through the corrupted halls felt heavier, the red lyrium seeming to pulse in time with Ariana’s growing guilt. The image of Fiona—broken, consumed—burned in her mind, a haunting reminder of what failure looked like.

    This is what happens when I fail. The thought echoed with every beat of her heart, but so too did another: I can’t let it happen again.

    Her resolve hardened. Whatever awaited them, she wouldn’t stop until she set things right.

    ~~~

    Each step through the castle’s corrupted halls was heavy with dread, the sound of their footsteps echoing like a dirge. Ariana tried to keep her composure, her expression set into a mask of calm determination, but her thoughts churned relentlessly. If Leliana is here… who else? The question repeated in her mind like a drumbeat. The idea twisted her stomach, each possibility more unbearable than the last. Was Cullen here? Had he fought for Haven and survived? Was he…

    She swallowed hard, forcing herself to focus on the path ahead, but the guilt crept in, unwelcome and persistent. He’d been so upset when I left. I’d seen it in his eyes, heard it in his voice. And I said nothing to ease his mind. She clenched her fists tightly around her daggers. If he’s here, is he even still alive? And if he is… does he blame me for abandoning him like that?

    The oppressive silence was broken by a low, steady voice that echoed eerily through the halls:

    “The Light shall lead her safely through the paths of this world and into the next. For she who trusts the Maker, fire is her water.”

    Ariana stopped abruptly, her heart skipping a beat. She exchanged a quick, uncertain glance with Dorian before moving toward the sound, her breath catching in her throat. “Cassandra,” she whispered, her voice wavering.

    As they rounded the corner, the sight of Cassandra brought Ariana to a halt. The woman who had once been a pillar of unyielding strength now knelt in the corner of a cell, her armor cracked and worn, her face hollowed by exhaustion and despair. The sight hit Ariana like a physical blow. Cassandra looked broken, her head bowed in prayer as though it were the only thing holding her together.

    Cassandra’s eyes lifted slowly, and when they met Ariana’s, they widened in disbelief. “You’ve returned to us,” she breathed, her voice trembling with a mix of wonder and pain. “Can it be? Andraste has given us another chance? Maker forgive me… I failed you. I failed everyone. The end must truly be upon us if the dead return to life.”

    Ariana knelt just outside the bars of the cell, her voice soft but steady. “I’m not back from the dead, Cassandra. This… is hard to explain.”

    “I was there,” Cassandra said, her tone raw with emotion. “The Magister obliterated you with a gesture. We tried to fight. We couldn’t… stop it. The Elder One rose, and everything fell.”

    “Actually,” Dorian interjected, his voice carefully measured, “Alexius sent us forward in time. We’re… displaced. If we find him, we may be able to return to the present.”

    Cassandra slowly rose, her strength visibly returning as she processed his words. “Alexius’s master,” she said, her voice sharpening with anger. “After you died, we could not stop the Elder One from rising. Empress Celene was murdered. The army that followed—it was a horde of demons. Nothing stopped them. Nothing.”

    Ariana felt her chest tighten as the weight of Cassandra’s words settled over her like a shroud. For Cassandra, this wasn’t just a nightmare—it was reality. She had lived it, fought it, and suffered through every moment. “I’m sorry,” Ariana said quietly, her voice laced with guilt. “I should have been there.”

    “You’re here now,” Cassandra replied firmly, her voice carrying the same steely resolve that had always defined her. She straightened, her eyes burning with determination. “Let’s make sure this never happens.”

    They freed Cassandra and pressed on, their steps quicker now. As they passed jagged veins of glowing red lyrium, Ariana’s mind turned to Haven. What if the lyrium is there too? The thought made her stomach turn. What if Cullen…

    The next cell brought a voice that broke her train of thought. “Is someone there?”

    “Solas?” Ariana called, hurrying forward.

    Solas stepped into view, his expression one of disbelief. “You’re alive? We saw you die!”

    “The spell displaced us in time,” Dorian said, his tone casual but tinged with gravity. “We only just arrived, so to speak.”

    Solas, already working through the implications, nodded grimly. “If you can reverse the process, you could return and obviate the events of the last year. It may not be too late.”

    “We’re trying,” Ariana said, though doubt crept into her voice. Every new horror they encountered made her question whether reversing this future was even possible. “This world is a nightmare. We have to fix it.”

    Solas’s gaze was piercing. “This world is an abomination. It must never come to pass.”

    As they moved on, the air grew heavier with the weight of screams echoing from distant cells. Each cry twisted Ariana’s gut, fueling her anger. This is what happens when I fail. This is the cost of my choices.

    Finally, they reached the upper levels, where a familiar voice rang out, sharp and defiant: “How did Trevelyan know of the sacrifice at the temple? Answer!”

    “Never!” Leliana’s voice cut through the chaos, sharp as a blade.

    Ariana’s heart thundered in her chest. “We have to hurry,” she said, breaking into a run.

    The sight of Leliana shackled and surrounded by Venatori filled Ariana with cold fury. The moment the interrogator turned toward her, Leliana took advantage, snapping his neck with brutal efficiency.

    “You’re alive,” Leliana said as Ariana freed her, disbelief mingling with relief. “What happened? Where have you been?”

    “Alexius miscalculated,” Ariana said quickly. “We were displaced in time. We’re here now, but we need to go back.”

    Leliana’s expression darkened, her voice sharp. “And mages wonder why people fear them. No one should have this power.”

    “It’s dangerous and unpredictable,” Dorian began, “Before the Breach, nothing we did—” 

    “Enough!” she snapped. “This is all pretend to you, isn’t it? A future you hope will never exist. But for me—for all of us—it was real. I suffered. We all suffered.”

    Ariana stepped closer, her voice steady despite the weight in her chest. “I know. And I’m sorry. I’ll do everything in my power to fix this.”

    Leliana held her gaze for a moment before nodding. “Then let’s not waste time.”

    As they moved onward, Ariana’s thoughts turned to Cullen once more. If he’s here… would he even forgive me? Could he? The weight of her decisions pressed down harder with each step, but she couldn’t afford to falter. There was too much at stake—and she wouldn’t let them pay the price for her failures again.

    ~~~

    Each step through the castle felt like a descent into a waking nightmare. Ariana’s fury and grief churned within her like a storm, the oppressive glow of red lyrium painting her surroundings in blood and shadows. The questions tore at her, each more unbearable than the last. She stole glances at Leliana, who pressed forward with grim focus, but Ariana’s mind remained trapped in the past, replaying every choice she had made. Every word she had failed to say. Her lips parted to ask, but she hesitated. Did she even want to know the rest? The gnawing doubt compelled her forward anyway.

    “Leliana…” Her voice trembled, but she forced herself to speak. “What happened to Cullen?”

    The faint hesitation in Leliana’s step didn’t go unnoticed, but when she spoke, her tone was firm, if quiet. “He fought. Like he always does. Cullen rallied everyone—the Inquisition, the Rangers, even King Alistair’s troops.”

    Ariana nodded faintly, bracing herself for the inevitable. Her knuckles tightened against her daggers, the hilts digging into her palms.

    “For weeks, they laid siege to Redcliffe Castle,” Leliana continued, her voice steady but heavy with unspoken sorrow. “But Alexius’s forces… they were bolstered by demons and Venatori. It was never a fair fight. Just as Cullen predicted, it wasn’t enough.”

    Ariana’s breath hitched. She already knew how this would end, but hearing it aloud made the truth unbearable.

    “They captured him,” Leliana said, her tone softening now. “Alexius forced red lyrium on him. Cullen resisted for longer than anyone I’ve seen, but eventually…” She trailed off, her words caught in her throat.

    “No.” Ariana whispered, shaking her head as though the motion might undo the truth. Her heart pounded as images she couldn’t bear to picture flooded her mind.

    Leliana’s voice grew quieter, each word cutting deeper. “They tortured him for information, trying to break him. But he never betrayed you. Not once. Even when the lyrium… changed him, he held onto his faith. He believed you were alive. He held onto that hope until the end.”

    Ariana stumbled, catching herself against the cold, corrupted wall. Her vision blurred as tears threatened to spill. Her chest ached as if the guilt was physically suffocating her. He never stopped hoping. He believed in me… while I left him behind.

    “That was the last time I saw him,” Ariana rasped, her voice barely audible. “That day in the war room?”

    Leliana hesitated but then nodded. “He knew you loved him,” she added quietly. “Isabel told him before they marched. She made sure of it.”

    Her thoughts spiraled uncontrollably. Cullen. He fought for me. He believed in me. And I left him that day, upset and unresolved. Did he think I didn’t care? Did he die hating me for it?

    Ariana blinked rapidly, her tears threatening to overflow. “She… did?”

    Leliana glanced back at her, her expression softening just slightly. “It wasn’t hard to see. You may have left things unsaid, but it was obvious to everyone else. He loved you just as much.”

    The words pierced Ariana’s heart, filling her with both gratitude and crushing regret. He knew. And yet I never told him myself. Never gave him that certainty. Her fists tightened at her sides as her guilt morphed into fury.

    Alexius. The Elder One. All of them. They did this.

    Her jaw clenched, her breaths coming sharper now as her grief ignited into something far more dangerous. I won’t let this stand. I’ll go back. I’ll stop this. And I’ll tell him everything I should have said before.

    When they reached the throne room, the doors creaked open to reveal Alexius slumped on Arl Teagan’s throne, his gaunt form framed by grotesque veins of red lyrium climbing the walls like a cancer.

    “Was it all worth it, Alexius?” she demanded, her voice a low, dangerous growl. “What you did to the world? The suffering?”

    Alexius sat slumped in the throne, his head lifting slowly to look at her. His voice was hollow, defeated. “And here you are, finally. I knew you would appear again. Not that it would be now. But I knew I hadn’t destroyed you. My final failure.” 

    “Why, Alexius?” Dorian demanded, stepping forward. “Why did you do this? To the world? To yourself?” 

    Alexius sighed deeply, his face etched with regret. “It doesn’t matter now. All we can do is wait for the end.” 

    Ariana’s brow furrowed. “The end?” 

    Alexius gestured faintly at the red lyrium creeping up the walls. “All that I fought for, all that I betrayed… and what have I wrought? Ruin and death. There is nothing else. The Elder One comes: for me, for you, for us all.” 

    From the shadows, Leliana moved swiftly, grabbing Felix and pressing a knife to his throat. 

    “Felix!” Alexius’s voice cracked with desperation as he leapt from the throne. 

    “That’s Felix?” Dorian said, horrified. “Maker’s breath, Alexius, what have you done?” 

    “He would have died, Dorian! I saved him!” Alexius pleaded, his voice breaking. “Please, don’t hurt my son. I’ll do anything you ask.” 

    Ariana’s voice was low, measured, and filled with simmering rage. “There are fates worse than death. You didn’t save him, Alexius. No one deserves to live like that. Felix didn’t want to live like that.” 

    Her gaze met Leliana’s, and she nodded. Without hesitation, Leliana slit Felix’s throat. 

    Alexius let out an anguished cry, his composure shattering. “No!” His hands shot forward, and a rift tore open behind him as he screamed in rage. 

    Demons poured from the rift as Alexius attacked, summoning everything he could to defend himself. But Ariana and her party fought with the precision born of desperation and anger. She closed the rifts as quickly as Alexius could open them. As the battle raged, Ariana’s fury drove her, each strike a declaration. For Cullen, for Haven, for everyone you took from me. This ends now.

    Finally, Alexius fell, his body slumping to the ground. 

    Dorian stood over him, shaking his head. “He wanted to die, didn’t he? All those lies he told himself, the justifications… He lost Felix long ago and didn’t even notice. Oh, Alexius…” 

    “I’m sorry, Dorian,” Ariana said softly, her voice carrying the weight of her own guilt. “I know this isn’t easy.” 

    “Once, he was a man to whom I compared all others,” Dorian said quietly, almost to himself. “Sad, isn’t it?” 

    He searched Alexius’s body and pulled out the amulet. “Here,” he said, holding it up. “This is the same amulet he used before. I think it’s the one we made in Minrathous. That’s a relief. Give me an hour to work out the spell, and I should be able to reopen the rift.” 

    “An hour? That’s impossible! You must go now!” Leliana interrupted, her voice sharp. 

    A roar echoed through the castle, shaking the walls. 

    “The Elder One,” Leliana said grimly. 

    “You cannot stay here,” Solas said, exchanging a meaningful look with Cassandra. They nodded at each other in silent agreement. “We’ll hold the outer door. When they get past us, it will be your turn.” 

    Ariana swallowed hard, forcing herself to push down the emotions threatening to overwhelm her. “We’ll make this count.” 

    Solas and Cassandra left the room, closing the doors behind them. Leliana moved to stand in front of the door, her bow at the ready. 

    “Cast your spell,” she said to Dorian, her voice steady. “You have as much time as I have arrows. The only way we live is if this day never comes.” 

    Ariana and Dorian retreated toward the throne as he began weaving his spell. The sounds of battle outside grew louder, and Ariana couldn’t tell how much time had passed. Eventually, the doors slammed open, demons and Venatori pouring in. Leliana didn’t falter, taking them down one by one with perfectly placed arrows. 

    “Andraste guide me. Maker take me to your side,” Leliana whispered. 

    An arrow struck her shoulder, and Ariana almost moved to help her, but Dorian grabbed her arm. 

    “You move, and we all die!” he snapped, his voice urgent. 

    At last, Dorian completed the spell, and a rift similar to the one that brought them to this nightmare opened. As the light of the rift engulfed Ariana, her last thought was of Cullen. Hold on. I’ll come back to you. And this time, I’ll say everything I should have said.

    ~~~

    “You’ll have to do better than that, Alexius,” Dorian quipped as they stepped out of the rift, clearly pleased with his handiwork, though his usual flamboyance was muted by the weight of what they had just endured.

    Alexius collapsed to his knees, the energy and defiance that had driven him through their last confrontation now utterly spent. He didn’t even struggle as Inquisition soldiers closed in to restrain him, his muttered laments barely audible.

    “You’ve won,” Alexius murmured, his voice hollow and distant. “There’s no point in extending the charade. Felix… my Felix…”

    Ariana barely registered his words. The world around her was the same—Redcliffe Castle, pristine and untouched by the corruption of red lyrium. The air was clean, not suffused with the choking malignance of the future they had seen. It should have been a relief. Instead, it felt like a fragile illusion, one she feared might shatter at any moment.

    Her boots echoed sharply on the stone floor as she turned toward the main doors. Her mind was already racing ahead, every step driven by a singular need: to return to Haven, to see Cullen, to make sure he was alive. She tried to push away the irrational thought that he might not be, but it dug into her mind like a splinter.

    The heavy wooden doors swung open, and a flood of Fereldan troops poured in, their armor glinting in the torchlight. At their head were King Alistair and Queen Anora, their regal bearing stark against the backdrop of the castle. The sight of them, alive and whole, confirmed what Ariana already knew but still struggled to trust. We’re back. This is our time.

    Fiona rushed forward to meet them, bowing low, but Alistair’s expression was hard, his tone sharp. “Grand Enchanter. Imagine my surprise when I learned you’d handed over Redcliffe Castle to a Tevinter magister. Care to explain?”

    “Your Majesties,” Fiona began hastily, her tone tinged with desperation, “Alistair, Queen Anora, I assure you, we never intended—”

    “I know what you intended,” Alistair interrupted, his voice laced with disappointment. “I wanted to help you. But this? You’ve made it impossible. You and your followers are no longer welcome in Ferelden.”

    “But…” Fiona hesitated, scrambling to find the right words. “We have hundreds who need protection! Where will we go?” 

    The weight of his words silenced Fiona, leaving her scrambling for a response. Ariana, standing a few steps behind her, straightened, her voice cutting through the tension. “Your Majesties, if I may?”

    Alistair glanced at her, his gaze softening slightly. He gave a small nod, allowing her to continue.

    “You’ll be leaving here with the Inquisition,” Ariana said firmly, her tone brooking no argument. 

    Fiona turned to Ariana, her expression wary. “And what are the terms of this… arrangement?”

    Ariana’s expression didn’t waver. “I can assure you, they are better than the slavery offered by the Tevinter Imperium.” 

    “They have lost all possible supporters. The Inquisition is their only remaining chance for freedom,” Solas added evenly. 

    Ariana’s jaw tightened, her tone steady but unyielding. “You’ll join us as allies, under close supervision. The Inquisition has no intention of enslaving you, but after this, we need assurances.” Her gaze didn’t waver, her authority palpable. “It’s a better offer than the one Alexius gave you. And your people will survive.”

    Alistair folded his arms, his voice cutting through the tension. “I’d take that offer if I were you. One way or another, you’re leaving my kingdom.” 

    Fiona hesitated, clearly reluctant, but finally inclined her head. “Very well,” she said, her voice resigned. “I’ll ready my people for the journey to Haven.”

    Alistair stepped closer to Ariana, his posture relaxing just slightly as he folded his arms. “It’s been a while,” he said, a faint smile breaking through his earlier severity.

    “It has,” Ariana replied, her lips curving into a small smile despite the storm still raging in her chest. “I trust Antiva treated you well?”

    “Not nearly as exciting as this,” Alistair quipped, gesturing to the castle around them. “But I did manage to avoid any Tevinter magisters, so that’s a win.”

    “From what Varric and Isabela told me, it probably would’ve been easier if I’d brought you along,” Alistair quipped. 

    Ariana chuckled. “Always. But I wasn’t for hire that day,” she replied, her expression softening. Then, more seriously, she added, “I am sorry I wasn’t able to get here before… well… all this.” 

    “It’s alright,” Alistair reassured her. “Luckily, we didn’t suffer any casualties, and it still seems the Inquisition did most of the work.” His tone shifted to something more playful as he added, “So… Herald of Andraste, is it now?” 

    Ariana rolled her eyes with a groan. “That’s what they tell me.” 

    “How does that hand thingy work?” Alistair asked, grinning as Queen Anora sighed in exasperation and walked away. 

    She chuckled softly, indulging in the light-hearted banter for a few more moments. When Alistair excused himself to address his troops, Ariana turned back to Cassandra, Dorian, and Solas, her tone once again commanding. “You can handle the mages from here?” she asked, though it wasn’t really a question.

    Cassandra nodded, her expression understanding. “Of course.”

    Ariana didn’t wait for further confirmation. She was already moving, her steps brisk as she left the castle behind.

    The crisp air of Redcliffe hit her like a balm as she stepped outside, but it didn’t slow her pace. Everything about the world told her they were back where they were supposed to be. The castle was uncorrupted, the sky free of the sickly glow of the future they’d glimpsed. And yet, Ariana couldn’t shake the clawing unease gnawing at her chest. She needed to get back to Haven. Now.

    Her heart raced, every step toward the horses a struggle not to break into a full sprint. He’s alive, she told herself firmly, trying to steady her thoughts. He has to be. This is our time again. That future doesn’t exist anymore.

    But the memory of Leliana’s words haunted her. He believed you were alive. He held onto that hope until the end.

    Her breath hitched as the guilt swelled again, threatening to drown her. She hadn’t been there for him, hadn’t said the words that had been clawing at her throat since Kirkwall. And yet, he had held onto her, even in his darkest moments.

    This time will be different, she vowed silently. I’ll make sure of it.

    By the time she reached her horse, her hands trembled as she gripped the reins. She mounted quickly, her thoughts a whirlwind of hope and desperation. Every second spent away from Haven felt unbearable. She needed to see him, hold him, make sure he was real—and tell him everything.

    As the castle disappeared behind her and the road stretched ahead, only one thought drove her forward: Hold on, Cullen. I’m coming back to you. This time, I’ll say everything I should have said.

  • Chapter 66 – Few Truths Are Comforting

    1 – 7 Bloomingtide 9:41

    The Frostbacks stretched endlessly before them, the mountain trail winding down toward the Hinterlands. Ariana pulled her cloak tighter around herself, though the biting cold barely registered. Her mind was elsewhere, turning over the conversation she’d had with Cullen the night before. Saying the words aloud—acknowledging the very real possibility of her death—had made it more tangible, more weighty. She had long since accepted the risk, but Cullen’s reaction lingered in her mind. The anguish in his eyes, the way he’d grasped her hand as if holding it could prevent that fate—it was a rare glimpse of his heart laid bare, and it had shaken her more than she cared to admit.

    The silence of the trail was broken by Cassandra’s voice, her tone pointed as she directed a question at Varric. “Have you heard from any of your Kirkwall associates, Varric?”

    Ariana sighed internally. Here we go again.

    Varric’s scoff came almost instantly. “You’re asking me? So you don’t read my letters?”

    “You’re no longer my prisoner,” Cassandra replied with the weary patience of someone accustomed to this routine. “Much as you like to act like it.”

    Ariana let her eyes drift skyward, silently pleading for patience. She could almost predict Varric’s retort before he said it.

    “And yet I still get all the suspicion,” Varric shot back, his voice laced with bitterness.

    Cassandra’s sigh was quieter this time, almost regretful. “I am not without sympathy,” she said, surprising Ariana with the note of sincerity in her voice. “Especially given recent events.”

    Varric’s anger sharpened. “Why, Seeker, I would never accuse you of having sympathy! By the way, I tend to refer to my ‘associates’ as ‘friends.’ Maybe you’re not familiar with the conc—”

    “Enough!” Ariana’s voice cut through their bickering like a blade, sharp and unyielding. Both turned to her in surprise, their argument dissolving into tense silence.

    The silence that followed was tense, the air heavy with unresolved frustration. Varric muttered something under his breath—probably unkind—while Cassandra pressed her lips together, her expression a mix of annoyance and regret.

    Ariana sighed quietly and let the silence linger before slowing her pace to match Cassandra’s. If she was going to spend weeks traveling with this group, the bickering needed to stop. Besides, she was genuinely curious about the Seeker—about the woman who carried herself with unyielding strength but kept her past wrapped in a shroud of mystery.

    “Tell me, Seeker,” Ariana began, her tone light and conversational, “where are you from?”

    Cassandra glanced at her, suspicious. “Why?”

    Ariana shrugged, a small smile playing on her lips. “Because I’d like to get to know you better. Unless, of course, you prefer to remain a mystery.”

    “You would?” Cassandra asked, her suspicion softening into genuine surprise.

    “I’m just being friendly,” Ariana replied, chuckling softly. “Not interrogating. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

    Cassandra sighed, clearly debating whether or not to indulge her. “There’s… not much to tell,” she finally said, her voice guarded but not unkind.

    “Oh, come now,” Ariana teased, giving her an incredulous look. “You were the right hand to the Divine. Not much to tell? I don’t believe that for a second.”

    Cassandra’s brow twitched, and for a moment, Ariana thought she might deflect again. But then the Seeker sighed, her tone resigned but not unkind. “My name is Cassandra Allegra Portia Calogera Filomena Pentaghast,” she began, her words carrying the weight of a history long practiced. “Daughter of the royal house of Nevarra, seventy-eighth in line for the throne. My family is known for its dragon-hunting lineage, though those days are long past. I left that life to join the Seekers of Truth when I was barely more than a girl.”

    Ariana’s eyebrows shot up. “Wait… you’re a member of Nevarra’s royal family?” she asked, her tone laced with disbelief.

    Cassandra’s expression shifted to feigned annoyance, though there was a faint flicker of amusement in her eyes. She explained how the Pentaghast clan was vast, their fame rooted in a dragon-hunting legacy that had long since fallen out of practice. She spoke of her decision to leave Nevarra, to run from a future that had felt suffocating, predetermined—a life of meaningless luxury and empty politics.

    As Cassandra spoke, Ariana listened intently, nodding occasionally. She couldn’t help but see the parallels between their lives. Both of them had walked away from expectations, titles, and the paths others had set for them. Both had chosen freedom, even when it came at great cost.

    When Cassandra finished, Ariana smiled gently. “You and I have more in common than I realized.”

    Cassandra regarded her in silence for a moment before nodding slowly. “Perhaps we do,” she admitted, her voice quieter now.

    Ariana grinned, her tone turning playful. “Though I can’t say I have the same dragon-hunting lineage. That part’s all yours.”

    A faint smile tugged at Cassandra’s lips, and for the first time since their journey began, the tension between them eased. Ariana glanced over her shoulder at Varric, who was riding a few paces behind them with Bianca slung across his back. She hoped he had been listening. If Cassandra could try, surely Varric could meet her halfway.

    For now, though, Ariana let herself enjoy the lighter atmosphere. The frostbitten trail seemed a little less daunting, the cold air a little less harsh. Perhaps, she thought, they could all learn to work together after all.

    ~~~

    The night was still, the campfire crackling softly as it cast flickering shadows across the clearing. Varric leaned against a log, his tankard resting loosely in his hand. The warmth of the fire wasn’t enough to chase away the chill that clung to him, though he wasn’t sure if it was the mountain air or his own mood.

    Across the fire, Ariana sat cross-legged, absently toying with a loose thread on her cloak. She had that look—the one that meant she was about to dig into something he didn’t want to talk about. He braced himself, taking a long sip of his drink.

    “You want to tell me what that was about earlier?” she asked, her voice casual but carrying the weight of expectation.

    Varric didn’t bother looking at her, his smirk lazy. “You’re going to have to be more specific, pup. I’ve had a lot of ‘moments’ today.”

    She didn’t laugh. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, her expression unwavering. Maker, she wasn’t going to let this go.

    “Don’t play coy, Varric,” she said, leaning forward slightly. “You know what I mean. Why do you keep poking at Cassandra?”

    Varric sighed, swirling the last of his drink in his tankard. “Because it’s easy,” he said after a beat. It was the truth, though not the whole truth. “And because she’s been on my case since day one.”

    “And this is how you handle it?” Ariana asked, her tone sharpening. “By giving her more reasons to stay on your case?”

    He shrugged, his smirk fading. “Maybe I enjoy getting under her skin.”

    It was deflection, and they both knew it. The problem with traveling with someone who knew him as well as Ariana did was that she saw straight through his walls, no matter how high he tried to build them.

    “Maybe,” she said, her voice quieter now, “but I don’t buy it. You’re smarter than that, Varric. So what’s the real reason?”

    He didn’t answer right away, his gaze fixed on the fire. He didn’t want to say it—to admit that Cassandra reminded him too much of everyone who had been responsible for what happened in Kirkwal. Someone rigid in their beliefs. Her questions, her mistrust, felt like a weight he couldn’t shake. And he didn’t understand her motivations.

    “People like her,” he said finally, his voice low, “don’t care about people like me.”

    The bitterness in his tone surprised even him. He hadn’t meant to let it show, but Ariana didn’t flinch. She leaned back slightly, her expression softening. “You’re wrong,” she said firmly. “Cassandra does care. She’s just… not great at showing it.”

    Varric scoffed, shaking his head. “She’s great at showing suspicion. I’ll give her that.”

    “She’s trying,” Ariana pressed. “To trust you. To connect with you. You don’t make it easy for her.”

    Her words struck deeper than he expected, and Varric found himself glancing at her. “Why do you even care? It’s not like you’re her biggest fan.”

    Ariana chuckled softly. “Maybe not, but I’ve traveled with her long enough to realize something. Cassandra’s not unfriendly—she’s just… not like us. She’s serious, reserved. That doesn’t mean she’s not trying.”

    Varric looked away, his jaw tightening. He hated how much sense Ariana made sometimes.

    “She asks questions because she wants to know who you are, not just what you’ve done,” Ariana continued. “She respects you, Varric. Even admires you, though she’d probably never admit it.”

    That drew a humorless laugh from him. “Admire me? Seeker Pentaghast? Yeah, right.”

    Ariana’s lips curved into a small smile. “She does. But she’s spent her whole life being told that emotions are weaknesses, that trust is a weapon. She’s trying to figure out who she is without all the titles and expectations. Sound familiar?”

    Varric blinked, caught off guard by the pointedness of her words. He knew what she was implying—and damn it, she wasn’t wrong.

    “You’ve got a way of making a guy feel like an ass,” he muttered, taking a swig from his tankard.

    Ariana grinned, leaning back against the log. “It’s a gift.”

    He chuckled, shaking his head. “Fine. I’ll give her a chance. But if she goes back to calling me ‘prisoner,’ I’m blaming you.”

    “Fair enough,” Ariana said, her grin widening. “Just… try, Varric. You might be surprised.”

    He studied her for a moment, the firelight catching the warmth in her eyes. She’d changed since Kirkwall—grown wiser, steadier. He hadn’t said it out loud, but he was proud of her.

    “You’ve changed, pup,” he said, his tone softer now. “Gotten all wise and philosophical on me.”

    “Don’t worry,” she replied with a wink. “I’m still insufferable.”

    Varric laughed, the tension in his chest easing as he settled back against the log. “Goodnight, pup.”

    “Goodnight, Varric,” she said, her voice light but sincere.

    As the fire crackled between them, Varric let his mind wander. Maybe Ariana was right—maybe he had been too hard on Cassandra. And maybe, just maybe, he could try to ease up a bit. After all, stranger things had happened.

    ~~~

    The road into the Hinterlands was quiet, save for the soft rustle of boots against dry dirt and the occasional hum of insects flitting through the air. The early morning mist clung stubbornly to the lowlands, though the rising sun promised to burn it away soon. The scent of wildflowers and sun-warmed grass drifted on the breeze, a stark contrast to the heavy thoughts weighing on Ariana’s mind. She kept her pace brisk, her focus ahead, piecing together what awaited them in Redcliffe.

    She didn’t have to wonder long. A familiar figure leaned casually against a large boulder just off the trail, arms crossed and a lopsided grin already forming.

    “Well, well,” Riley called, her voice carrying easily. “The Herald of Andraste graces the Hinterlands with her presence. You’re making quite the habit of keeping me waiting, Wolf.”

    Ariana rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at her lips. “I wasn’t aware we were on a schedule, Lieutenant.”

    “You are now,” Riley shot back, pushing off the rock and striding toward the group. “And you’re late.”

    “And you look like you’ve been waiting for trouble,” Ariana noted, her brow quirking as she gestured to Riley’s unusually tense stance.

    “Trouble is exactly why I’m here,” Riley said, her tone sobering. “Something’s wrong in Redcliffe.”

    “Go on,” Ariana said, her voice steady despite the unease curling in her chest.

    “The gates are sealed,” Riley began, her arms crossing again. “There’s a strange rift just outside the village. The Rangers stationed nearby say it’s unlike anything we’ve encountered so far—feels more unstable. And…” She hesitated for just a moment, her gaze flicking to the others before returning to Ariana. “There are rumors of Tevinter magisters in Redcliffe.”

    “Tevinter?” Cassandra’s tone was sharp, her expression darkening. “What could they possibly want with Redcliffe?”

    “Nothing good,” Riley replied grimly. “And that’s not all. Arl Teagan has abandoned the village. He rode for Denerim, leaving Redcliffe leaderless. Whatever’s going on there, it’s bad enough that even the Arl didn’t want to stay.”

    Ariana let out a slow breath, her hand rubbing at her temple. “Wonderful,” she muttered, her tone dry. “So, no leadership, a sealed gate, a rift, and Tevinter magisters. Anything else I should know?”

    Riley shrugged. “Cullen thinks you should head for the Templars instead.”

    Ariana froze mid-step, her head snapping up to look at Riley. “Oh? Does he now?” Her brow arched. “And how exactly do you know this?”

    Riley’s grin was far too pleased. “He sent me a communication,” she said casually. “Wanted to make sure you weren’t rushing into anything too dangerous.”

    “Did he, now?” Ariana’s voice was flat, though there was a faint edge of feigned annoyance. “And let me guess—you already reported back to him about the Tevinter magisters?”

    “Of course,” Riley said with a shrug, entirely unapologetic. “I figured he’d want to know. You’re always telling me to anticipate the client’s needs, remember?”

    Ariana groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “Riley, do you remember who you’re supposed to be working for?”

    “You told me we’re working for the Inquisition,” Riley countered smoothly, her grin widening. “And he’s the client, Wolf.”

    Varric let out a low whistle, clearly enjoying the exchange. “She’s got you there, pup.”

    “I should have left you in Haven,” Ariana muttered, though her lips quirked into a reluctant smile. “Anything else you’ve reported to our ‘client’ that I should know about?”

    “Not yet,” Riley replied, her tone light. “But I’m always open to suggestions.”

    Cassandra, who had been quiet until now, crossed her arms and fixed Ariana with a pointed look. “Perhaps the Commander is right. The Templars could be a safer option.”

    “Yes, because a potentially corrupted Lord Seeker is safer…” Ariana replied, her tone sharper than intended. She met Cassandra’s gaze evenly. “The breach won’t close itself. And we don’t know where the Templars are or if they’d even listen to us. The mages may be our only chance.”

    “And what if the mages in Redcliffe are already compromised?” Cassandra pressed, her voice unwavering. “If the rumors of Tevinter magisters are true…”

    “We’ll deal with it,” Ariana said firmly. “We don’t have the luxury of second-guessing every decision. We’ll assess the situation when we get there.”

    Riley watched the exchange with interest, finally breaking the tension with a shrug. “Whatever you decide, Wolf, I’ll back you. Just… be careful, yeah?”

    Ariana sighed, her expression softening. “Always,” she said, her tone lighter now. “Thanks for the warning, Riley.”

    Riley nodded, her grin returning. “Don’t mention it. Just don’t get dead, alright? I’d hate to have to explain that to Cullen.”

    “Noted,” Ariana said dryly, shaking her head as they resumed their march toward Redcliffe.

    As the group moved on, Riley fell in step beside Ariana, her expression thoughtful. “You know,” she said after a moment, her tone casual but her eyes sharp, “you and Cullen… you could just make things easier for yourselves and stop dancing around what you both—”

    “Oh, now you want us back together,” Ariana cut her off, her voice carrying just enough warning to make Riley grin. “Are we forgetting you hid news of him for four months?”

    “Fine, fine,” Riley said, holding up her hands in mock surrender. “But for the record, I’ve always thought you were good together.”

    Ariana rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help the brief smile that tugged at her lips.

    The banter carried them down the road, the tension between them easing even as the looming shadow of Redcliffe grew closer.

    ~~~

    As they arrived at Redcliffe, the gates were closed as Riley had reported, and a rift loomed just ahead. The air around it shimmered unnaturally, the distortion bending light and sound in ways that made Ariana’s skin crawl. Time itself seemed to fracture near the rift, creating a nauseating sense of disorientation.

    The demons poured out in waves, but the party dispatched them with the efficiency of seasoned warriors. When the rift finally closed, the distorted air stilled, though the unease it left lingered.

    “What was that?” Ariana asked, her tone sharp and commanding. The scene was wrong—deeply unsettling—but fear wasn’t an option.

    Cassandra sheathed her blade with deliberate precision. “We don’t know what these rifts can do. That one appeared to alter time around it.”

    Ariana pressed her lips into a thin line, her expression hardening. “Something is very wrong here. Stay on your guard.” Her voice was firm, unshaken, though her thoughts churned.

    Her mind flickered briefly to Cullen’s warnings. He had urged caution, worried the mages might be too desperate, too unstable to trust. Maybe he was right about that part, she thought grimly. But right or not, she wouldn’t let Redcliffe fall to this. She had spent years rebuilding after the Blight—after Ferelden had been brought to its knees—and she would not let it be invaded by outsiders, no matter their supposed justification.

    When they entered the gates, an Inquisition scout hurried to meet them. “Your Worship, we’ve spread word that the Inquisition was coming, but you should know—no one here seems to have been expecting us.”

    “No one?” Ariana’s voice was calm, but her unease deepened. “Not even Grand Enchanter Fiona?”

    “If she was, she hasn’t told anyone,” the scout replied nervously. “You’ll find the tavern secured for negotiations.”

    The scout’s reluctance to linger only sharpened Ariana’s resolve. She directed him to return to Haven with a full report, then pressed forward with her companions. The village felt eerily quiet—no sign of Arl Teagan or his guards, and the few villagers they passed seemed weary, their eyes hollow.

    Just as they reached the village square, an elven mage emerged from the shadows. “Agents of the Inquisition, my apologies!” he exclaimed, bowing with theatrical flourish. “Magister Alexius is in charge now but hasn’t yet arrived. You may speak with the former Grand Enchanter in the meantime.”

    “Magister Alexius?” Ariana repeated, her tone sharp. Her jaw tightened. The word alone felt like a taunt, a challenge. She had fought against invaders before. This was no different. “Well, it sounds like Riley’s information was accurate.”

    “What’s a Tevinter Magister doing here?” Cassandra demanded, her suspicion sharpening the air.

    Varric muttered, “I don’t like this, pup. This whole place reeks of trouble.”

    Ariana’s jaw set as her gaze swept the village. “Trouble or not, we’re here. And we’re going to fix it.” Her voice carried the weight of years spent protecting this land, of refusing to let Ferelden fall again. They don’t belong here.

    Inside the tavern, Grand Enchanter Fiona greeted them as though they were strangers. “Welcome, agents of the Inquisition,” she said with a polite smile. “What has brought you to Redcliffe?”

    Ariana froze, her confusion giving way to irritation. “Is this some kind of test?” she asked sharply. “We’re here because you invited us in Val Royeaux.”

    Fiona frowned, her brow furrowing. “You must be mistaken,” she said slowly. “I haven’t been to Val Royeaux since before the Conclave.”

    Ariana’s breath caught in her chest. She exchanged bewildered glances with Cassandra, Varric, and Solas. The pieces of the puzzle didn’t fit, and every second deepened her unease.

    “Well,” Ariana began, her voice tight, “then that’s very odd, because someone who looked exactly like you spoke to me and asked me to come here.”

    “Exactly like me…” Fiona repeated softly, her voice trailing off as though the phrase itself unraveled something in her mind. For the first time, her composure cracked—just a flicker, quickly hidden.

    “Regardless of who sent you, the situation has changed,” Fiona continued, her tone becoming flat. “The free mages have already pledged themselves to the service of the Tevinter Imperium.”

    Ariana stared at her, the words echoing in her mind. “I’m sorry… you did what?”

    Cassandra’s discomfort was palpable. “An alliance with Tevinter? Do you not fear all of Thedas turning against you?”

    Varric, ever quick with a quip, muttered, “Andraste’s ass… I’m trying to think of a single worse thing you could have done. And I’ve got nothing.”

    Solas, calm and deliberate, added, “I understand your desperation, but you deserve better than slavery to Tevinter.”

    Before they could press further, the door opened, revealing two men—Magister Alexius and his son, Felix. Alexius exuded an air of smug authority as he entered, his gaze lingering on Ariana with an unsettling intensity.

    “You must be the Herald of Andraste,” Alexius said, his tone syrupy and insincere. “What an honor.”

    Ariana met his gaze head-on, her hazel-green eyes unyielding. So, this is the man pulling the strings. Her discomfort with him was undeniable, but it only hardened her resolve. She had dealt with men like him before—arrogant, entitled, used to getting what they wanted. She wasn’t about to back down now.

    “You’re quite a long way from Tevinter, Alexius,” she said coldly. “What brings you to Ferelden?”

    “Ah,” Alexius said smoothly, “Indeed I am, though I have heard you are no Ferelden either. It seems we are both strangers here.”

     The veiled threat in his words only strengthened Ariana’s determination. He didn’t know, he didn’t need to know. But as far as Ariana was concerned, this was her home. She may not have been born here, but she had endured the worst this age had to offer with Ferelden. And she would not abandon it now. She certainly would not let a Tevinter magister take Redcliffe.

    Their conversation continued, each word deepening Ariana’s conviction that Alexius was a threat. When Felix nearly collapsed, Ariana caught him quickly, masking her surprise when he slipped a note into her hand. She steadied him as Alexius made a show of concern, then excused himself with Felix in tow.

    Once they were gone, Ariana unfolded the note: Come to the Chantry. You are in danger.

    She exhaled slowly, her fingers tightening around the paper. “Well, I had mostly figured that out already,” she muttered, though her voice carried an edge of sarcasm that didn’t mask her frustration.

    Cassandra stepped closer, her expression grim. “The Commander may have been right about the mages.”

    Ariana didn’t respond immediately, her gaze fixed on the door Alexius had vanished through. Finally, she spoke, her voice low but resolute. “He might have been. But this is my home. And I’m not going to let Tevinter stake a claim here.”

    She tucked the note into her pocket and turned to her companions, her expression hard and unflinching. “We’re going to the Chantry. We’ll figure this out. And if Alexius thinks he can take Ferelden while I’m standing here, he’s going to learn just how wrong he is.”

    The group exchanged glances before falling in step behind her. Whatever dangers lay ahead, Ariana’s determination burned brighter than her doubts. She wasn’t afraid of Alexius. She was ready to remind him—and anyone else—what it meant to defend Ferelden.

    ~~~

    As they entered the Chantry, Ariana’s senses went on high alert. The rift above churned violently, its distortion bending the air around it. The sound was a sharp, grating hum that clawed at the edges of her mind, and the space felt charged with an oppressive energy that made her skin prickle. In the midst of the chaos, a lone mage stood with practiced ease, firing spells at the demons pouring from the rift as though this was a simple exercise.

    “Good! You’re finally here! Now help me close this, would you?” the mage called, his voice carrying an almost breezy amusement that felt jarringly out of place.

    Ariana’s eyes narrowed, her gaze locking onto him for the briefest moment. His finely tailored robes were immaculate—so much so it was almost insulting in the face of their surroundings. Everything about him, from his sharp features to the deliberate flourish of his movements, screamed Tevinter. He wielded his magic with a confidence that bordered on arrogance, the kind of ease that only came with privilege and power.

    Still, there was something undeniably charismatic about him. His quick smirk and sparkling eyes exuded intelligence and charm. It was disarming, almost deliberately so. Ariana remained cautious but couldn’t deny her first impression. She liked him. There was something about him that seemed… honest.

    Her focus snapped back to the rift as the fight demanded her attention. The demons came in waves, but she and her companions dispatched them with the efficiency of seasoned warriors. Each strike and spell flowed with the rhythm of their shared battles, and when Ariana sealed the rift with the mark, the oppressive energy in the room seemed to release, leaving only an uneasy silence behind.

    The mage stepped closer, his brown eyes alight with curiosity. “Fascinating,” he remarked, his tone carrying the detached enthusiasm of a scholar. “How does that work, exactly? You don’t even know, do you? You just wiggle your fingers, and boom—rift closes.”

    Ariana crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow at his irreverence. “You’re the mage. Why don’t you explain it to me?” she replied dryly, her voice tinged with amusement.

    His smirk widened, clearly enjoying her response. “Oooh, feisty. I like it,” he said, inclining his head in a mock bow. “I am Dorian of House Pavus, most recently of Minrathous. How do you do?”

    Before she could respond, Cassandra stepped forward, her posture rigid with distrust. “Another Tevinter. Be cautious with this one.”

    Dorian turned to her, unfazed, and offered a disarming smile. “Suspicious friends you have here,” he said lightly. “Magister Alexius was once my mentor, so my assistance should be valuable—more so than you probably deserve.”

    Ariana studied him carefully, weighing his words against the instincts that rarely failed her. He was confident—too confident, perhaps—but there was something refreshingly honest in his arrogance. Despite her natural caution, she felt herself relaxing slightly. “I was expecting Felix,” she said, watching him closely.

    “He’s on his way,” Dorian replied breezily. “His task was to get the note to you and then meet us here after ditching his father.”

    “So, the note was from you,” Ariana said, her curiosity piqued.

    “It was,” Dorian confirmed, his smirk turning playful. “Someone had to warn you, after all. It would be a shame for someone like you to get killed.”

    Her lips quirked into a small smile despite herself. “Why is that? The mark or my charming personality?”

    “Can it be both?” Dorian quipped. “Though let’s not overlook your looks. It would be a tragedy for Thedas.”

    The banter came so easily it surprised her. Ariana chuckled softly, shaking her head. “You Tevinter mages and your silver tongues.”

    “It’s not silver, my dear Herald,” Dorian replied with mock sincerity, “it’s platinum.”

    Cassandra sighed audibly, clearly unimpressed, but Ariana found herself genuinely amused. Beneath the arrogance and flair, there was an honesty to Dorian that she couldn’t ignore. He didn’t seem the type to hide his intentions—he was exactly as he presented himself, for better or worse.

    Before Ariana could respond, Dorian’s expression sobered. “Jokes aside, you must know there’s danger here,” he said, his voice lowering. “That much should be obvious without the note. Let’s start with Alexius claiming all the rebel mages out from under you. As if by magic. Which, in this case, is exactly right. To reach Redcliffe before the Inquisition, Alexius distorted time itself.”

    “He arranged it so he could arrive here just after the Divine died?” Ariana asked, frowning as the puzzle pieces refused to fit together neatly. 

    “That is fascinating, if true… and almost certainly dangerous,” Solas interjected, his voice thoughtful. 

    “The magic Alexius is using is wildly unstable, and it’s unraveling the world,” Dorian explained. 

    “Wonderful. I was really starting to get bored of only having the Breach to deal with…” Ariana quipped dryly. 

    “My father’s joined a cult. Tevinter supremacists. They call themselves the Venatori,” came Felix’s voice from behind them. He looked pale and exhausted but determined. “And I can tell you one thing: whatever he’s done for them, he’s done it to get to you.” 

    “To me?” Ariana asked, her unease growing. “Why would he rearrange time and enslave mages just to target me?”

    Ariana could already imagine Cullen’s reaction to this. He wouldn’t be happy. Knowing she was being specifically targeted by a group of Tevinter supremacists would set him on edge and there would be no calming him down from that.

    “They’re obsessed with you,” Felix replied grimly. “Perhaps because you survived the Temple of Sacred Ashes?”

    “Well, this is all very flattering,” Ariana said dryly, though her sarcasm couldn’t quite mask her tension. “But I’m afraid I’ll have to disappoint him. I’m very unavailable.”

    Dorian’s eyebrow arched, and he leaned closer. “Is that so? Should I be taking notes?”

    Varric interjected, his tone protective. “Since when?”

    Ariana shrugged, a faint smirk forming. “Always unavailable to evil Tevinter Magisters intent on destroying the world. It just wouldn’t work.”

    Dorian perked up, his grin returning. “Oh, is that all? Then what about a good Tevinter mage trying to save it?”

    “Hadn’t ever considered there was such a thing,” Ariana teased, the spark in her eyes unmistakable. “But I guess anything’s possible.”

    Dorian laughed, clearly pleased. “I’ll consider that an opportunity.”

    Ariana laughed with him, the levity of their exchange momentarily cutting through the tension. Yet even as she smiled, the weight of Felix’s words lingered in her mind.

    “In any case,” Dorian continued, his voice growing serious, “now you know you’re his target. Expecting the trap is the first step. I can’t stay in Redcliffe; Alexius doesn’t know I’m here, and I’d like to keep it that way. I’ll be in touch.” He turned to leave but paused to add, “Felix, try not to get yourself killed.”

    “There are worse things than dying, Dorian,” Felix replied quietly, his voice heavy with resignation.

    As Dorian exited, Ariana exchanged a glance with her companions. The playful mage had left much unsaid, but what he had revealed painted an ominous picture of what lay ahead. Whatever this was, was more dangerous than the Breach itself. Whether or not the mages were desperate was no longer the question or the problem.

    After they exited the Chantry, Cassandra finally broke the tense silence. “This whole business is distasteful. Perhaps we are better off pursuing the Templars instead.” 

    “I’d bet you ten royals whatever the Templars are doing is just as weird,” Varric replied, crossing his arms. “Probably involves chanting, blood magic, or some elaborate helmet polishing ceremony.” 

    Ariana shook her head, her voice firm. “And regardless, we now have to deal with this. We can’t ignore this threat now. Don’t think we need to rip a hole in time in addition to the one in the sky.” 

    “Besides,” she added, glancing at each of them, “maybe these ‘Venatori’ are affecting both. We already know something is wrong with the Lord Seeker. Whatever is happening here may be connected.” 

    Cassandra frowned but gave a reluctant nod. “You may be right. But the risk—” 

    “Is one we don’t have a choice but to face,” Ariana interrupted. “We need to return to Haven, regroup, and prepare. This isn’t just about mages or Templars anymore. It’s about the entire world unraveling. And that’s on us to stop.” 

    Varric gave a low whistle. “No pressure, huh?” 

    Ariana glanced at him, the corners of her mouth tugging into a wry smile despite the weight of the situation. “If it were easy, you wouldn’t have come along, would you?” 

    “Touché, pup,” Varric replied with a smirk, already falling into step behind her as they began their journey back.

    ~~~

    The campfire crackled softly in the night, its warmth cutting through the cool evening air. Ariana approached Solas, her steps slow, her thoughts churning from the day’s revelations. He sat slightly apart from the others, his posture calm yet deliberate, his gaze fixed on the flames as though he could see some hidden truth within them.

    “Solas,” Ariana began, her tone thoughtful, “have you ever encountered anything like the magic we saw in Redcliffe? The distortion of time?”

    Solas looked up, his expression serene but tinged with curiosity. “No,” he replied plainly. “I am not aware of any magic like that—at least, none I have personally witnessed.”

    Ariana tilted her head slightly, unconvinced. “What about your… spirit friends?” she asked, her voice tinged with curiosity and a hint of playful skepticism. “Could they have seen something like it?”

    The corners of Solas’s mouth twitched upward in the faintest hint of a smile. “An interesting phrasing,” he said, his voice light with amusement. “Perhaps they have. Time within the Fade is not bound as it is in this world. Moments exist simultaneously, stretch, or fold back upon themselves. It is a place of infinite possibility and fluidity.”

    He paused, his expression sharpening as though weighing his words carefully. “If I were to theorize,” he continued, “such a spell—one capable of distorting time—would likely draw upon the Fade. It would require manipulating the Veil itself, pulling the Fade closer to this world to warp reality. That might explain why the Veil in Redcliffe feels both weaker and… disturbed.”

    Ariana lowered herself onto a nearby log, her brow furrowed. “So it’s like forcing the rules of the Fade onto our world?” she asked, her voice thoughtful. “If Alexius has figured out how to do that, it makes him far more dangerous than I thought.”

    “Precisely,” Solas replied, his voice patient yet deliberate. “The Fade is a realm of endless possibility but also of unchecked chaos. To tear the Veil, to force the two realms to overlap, is not simply dangerous—it is destructive. Magic of that nature could unravel far more than time itself.”

    Ariana drew in a slow breath, her arms resting on her knees as she processed his words. The image of Redcliffe’s shimmering distortion burned in her mind, the nauseating wrongness of it. “It explains why everything feels so off there,” she murmured. “And why the mages are so desperate. But how does someone even begin to create something like this?”

    Solas studied her intently, his gaze thoughtful but unyielding. “You seek answers not out of fear or prejudice, but out of a desire to understand,” he said, his tone carrying a quiet note of respect. “It is a rare quality among those who wield authority. Refreshing, even.”

    Ariana met his gaze, her lips quirking into a faint smile. “Knowledge is a tool,” Her expression sobered. “If I can understand what’s happening, maybe we can stop it.”

    Solas inclined his head slightly, his tone shifting to something almost conspiratorial. “A wise approach. Though I suspect Alexius’s mastery did not come from his own ingenuity alone. The Venatori… whoever they truly are, may have provided him with knowledge—or a guide.”

    Ariana’s smile faded as she considered his words. “That’s not exactly comforting,” she muttered.

    “Few truths are,” Solas replied, his gaze returning to the fire. “But they are necessary, nonetheless.”

    For a moment, they sat in companionable silence, the weight of the conversation settling over them. The firelight danced across Solas’s face, casting him in sharp relief—neither entirely ally nor entirely unknown. Ariana’s unease lingered, but so too did her resolve. Whatever lay ahead, she would meet it head-on.

  • Chapter 62 – No Safe Options

    14 – 28 Drakonis 9:41

    The following morning, the Chantry square seethed with unrest. Mages and Templars faced off like predators circling each other, their shouts a discordant symphony of anger and fear. Ariana arrived as Cullen stood between them, his presence commanding despite the tension in his shoulders.

    “Enough!” His voice cut through the uproar like a blade, silencing even the most heated arguments. But Ariana could see the strain in his stance, the faint telltale signs of a man carrying more weight than one person should.

    Hovering nearby, Chancellor Roderick looked every inch the self-satisfied vulture, his tone oily and sanctimonious. “This is precisely why proper authority is needed. The Inquisition lacks the legitimacy to manage such… disorder.”

    Cullen turned to him, his patience visibly thinning. “Proper authority? Who, you? Random clerics who weren’t important enough to be at the Conclave?”

    Roderick’s face turned a mottled red. “The rebel Inquisition and its so-called ‘Herald of Andraste’? I think not.”

    Ariana stepped forward, her smile as sharp as her daggers. “We’re not so bad. About as functional as any young family.” Her quip earned the faintest twitch of a smile from Cullen, though Roderick’s expression remained stony.

    “How many families are on the verge of splitting into open warfare with themselves?” Roderick snapped.

    Ariana chuckled. “I take it you’ve never spent much time around nobility, Chancellor.” She folded her arms, her tone light but with an undercurrent of challenge. “If you had, you’d know the answer is quite a high number.”

    Cullen stifled a laugh, meeting her gaze with a flicker of amusement.

    “So far, Chancellor, you’re the only one insisting we can’t work together,” Ariana continued, her words steady and edged with subtle daring.

    “We might, if your Inquisition would recognize the Chantry’s authority,” Roderick replied self-righteously.

    Ariana tilted her head, her tone turning sharp. “Right, because Chantry authority worked so well last time… Remind me, Commander”—she glanced at Cullen, one brow arched—“why are you allowing the Chancellor to stay?”

    Roderick bristled, his voice cracking like a whip. “Clearly your Templar knows where to draw the line… unlike you.”

    Her irritation flared, her words cutting and deliberate. “My Templar,” she said, her voice cold and biting, “is the Commander of the Inquisition. And he is the only one here trying to maintain order—something you seem determined to undermine at every turn.”

    Cullen blinked at her vehemence but stepped forward, a steady presence at her side.

    Ariana wasn’t finished. She turned her full attention to Roderick, her gaze unrelenting. “You should be grateful he’s the one in charge and not me. He’s far more patient than I would ever be.”

    Roderick’s mouth opened and closed before he managed, “You should accept trial in Val Royeaux for your part in this. If you are truly innocent, the Chantry will establish it so.”

    Cullen, his tone low and steely, cut in. “Or will be happy to use someone as a scapegoat. I will not risk that.”

    Ariana stilled, the words striking deeper than she expected. I, not we. It wasn’t a mistake, she realized. It was deliberate—an unspoken promise wrapped in steel. For all the distance and unspoken pain between them, Cullen’s resolve to protect her was unshaken.

    Her chest tightened, not with guilt this time, but with something warmer, something that almost scared her more. She didn’t deserve the lengths he’d go to, not after everything she’d hidden from him. Yet he stood there, unyielding, his focus on her as if the rest of the square had disappeared.

    Roderick spluttered, taken aback. “You think no one cares about the truth? We all grieve Justinia’s loss!”

    Cullen scoffed, his words laced with cold disbelief. “But you won’t grieve if the Herald of Andraste is swept under the carpet.”

    He turned to Ariana, his voice softening, the words meant more for her than Roderick. “He’s toothless. But he’s a preview of what you’ll face in Val Royeaux. Be careful.”

    Their eyes met, and for a moment, the chaos around them faded. She caught the quiet gratitude in his expression, and her lips curved into a faint smirk. “Don’t let anyone riot while we’re gone.”

    Cullen straightened, his tone turning brisk again. “I’ll keep the peace here while you meet with the Chantry. The walls will still be standing when you return. I hope.”

    As he turned to leave, Ariana reached for his arm, stopping him mid-step. She moved closer, her voice dropping to a near whisper, meant only for him. “I don’t much care about the walls. I’d prefer you were still standing.”

    Cullen hesitated, his expression softening. For a heartbeat, he seemed to weigh a response before offering her a faint, genuine smile. “I’ll do my best.”

    He inclined his head and strode back toward the restless crowd, his voice rising again to bring order to the fray.

    Ariana watched him go, her thoughts lingering. He wasn’t just the steadfast Commander of the Inquisition. He was hers. And no one—not a sanctimonious Chancellor, not the Chantry, not even the Maker Himself—would ever convince her he was anything less than the man Thedas needed. Now she just needed to convince him of that.

    ~~~

    Ariana, Cassandra, Varric, and Solas arrived in Val Royeaux just over a week after leaving Haven. The city’s gleaming towers reflected the late morning sun, their beauty dulled by the undercurrent of unease that seemed to saturate the air. The streets bustled with activity, but the furtive glances and hurried whispers set Ariana’s teeth on edge.

    As they passed through the gates, a couple recoiled at the sight of them, murmuring behind their hands before scurrying away.

    “Well, that’s a reaction I don’t encounter often,” Ariana quipped, forcing a wry smile. She tried to brush it off, but the memory of their distrust lingered, gnawing at her confidence.

    “Just a guess, Seeker,” Varric drawled, his tone dry as parchment, “but I think they’ve figured out who we are.”

    Cassandra didn’t dignify him with a full response, her sharp gaze scanning the streets. “Your skills of observation never fail to astound me, Varric.”

    The light banter dissipated as they reached the market gates. An Inquisition scout hurried forward, her expression tight with worry. She offered a quick salute before speaking in a hushed tone. “Lady Herald, the Chantry mothers await you inside… but so do a great many templars.”

    “Templars?” Cassandra’s brows knit together, suspicion flickering in her voice. “What are they doing here?”

    The scout hesitated, glancing over her shoulder. “People believe the templars will protect them—from the Inquisition. They’ve gathered on the other side of the market. I think that’s where they intend to meet you.”

    Varric folded his arms. “Think they’re here to burn the heretics at the stake? You know, tidy things up?”

    Cassandra shook her head, her tone low with disbelief. “I know Lord Seeker Lucius. I cannot imagine him coming to the Chantry’s aid—not after everything.”

    Ariana squared her shoulders, the easy confidence in her voice masking her own apprehension. “Only one way to find out.”

    Cassandra hesitated, her gaze flicking to Ariana. “Perhaps Leliana and Cullen were right. This may be too dangerous.”

    “Or,” Ariana countered, her voice firm, “this is the opportunity we need to bring the templars to our side.” She turned to the scout. “Return to Haven. If we’re delayed, let the others know.”

    The scout nodded, disappearing into the crowd as the group pushed through the gates and into the market.

    The square was a cacophony of voices, tension crackling like a storm about to break. At the center, a makeshift stage held Revered Mother Hevara, her shrill voice slicing through the noise.

    “Good people of Val Royeaux, hear me! Together, we mourn our Divine, her naive and beautiful heart silenced by treachery! You wonder what will become of her murderer? Wonder no more! Behold the so-called Herald of Andraste, claiming to rise where our beloved fell. We say this is a false prophet!”

    Ariana clenched her jaw, irritation bubbling beneath her composure. “Well, this is off to a promising start,” she muttered under her breath.

    She stepped forward, her voice clear and resolute. “We came in peace, simply to talk—and this is how you welcome us? I implore you, let us sit down together and address the real threat.”

    Cassandra’s voice followed, cutting through the crowd’s murmurs. “It is true! The Inquisition seeks only to end this chaos before it consumes us all!”

    Hevara sneered, gesturing grandly. “It is already too late! The templars have returned to the Chantry! They will stand against this ‘Inquisition,’ and the people will be safe once more!”

    A group of templars approached the stage, but as they reached Hevara, one struck her across the face. The crowd gasped as the Revered Mother stumbled, clutching her cheek.

    Ariana’s hand twitched toward her dagger, her eyes narrowing. “What’s the meaning of this?” she demanded.

    A man stepped forward, his demeanor calm yet cold. “Her claim to authority is an insult. Much like your own.”

    Cassandra stiffened. “Lord Seeker Lucius, we must speak—”

    “You will not address me,” Lucius snapped, his words sharp as a blade. “You, who dare raise a heretical movement and present this… puppet as Andraste’s prophet. You should all be ashamed.”

    His words struck Ariana like a blow, but it wasn’t the insult that unsettled her. There was something about him—the precise disdain in his tone, the way his gaze pierced through her—that scratched at the edges of her memory. She couldn’t place it, but the sensation crept over her skin like a chill.

    Lucius continued, his voice rising. “You, who’d leash our righteous swords with doubt and fear! If you came to appeal to the Chantry, you are too late. The only destiny here that demands respect is mine.”

    Ariana stepped forward, her frustration boiling over. “If you’re not here to help the Chantry, why are you here? To give speeches?”

    Lucius’s lips curled into a mocking smile. “I came to see what frightens old women so. And to laugh.”

    Her fists tightened at her sides, but it wasn’t just anger she felt—it was something deeper, a prickling unease she couldn’t shake. That mocking smile, the coldness in his eyes. It stirred something distant and dark in her mind, a memory just out of reach.

    Lucius turned to leave, but a templar hesitated, stepping forward. “But, Lord Seeker… what if the Herald really was sent by the Maker? What if—”

    “You are called to a higher purpose! Do not question!” Lucius barked, silencing the templar with a glare. “I will make the templar order a power that stands alone against the void. We deserve recognition. Independence! Templars! Val Royeaux is unworthy of our protection. We march!”

    As the templars disappeared into the streets, Varric broke the stunned silence. “Well, that was… illuminating. Did anyone else get chills?”

    Cassandra’s face was a mask of disbelief. “Has Lord Seeker Lucius gone mad?”

    Ariana didn’t respond immediately. Her eyes lingered on the empty stage, her thoughts tangled in frustration and unease. That feeling gnawed at her—the sense that she should know something vital, something her mind refused to unlock. Why does he seem so familiar?

    ~~~

    Ariana wove through the bustling market, her thoughts still tangled in the aftermath of their encounter with Lucius. A familiar tension pressed against her ribs, but her expression remained calm. She needed something—anything—to anchor her thoughts and quiet the unease gnawing at her edges.

    The hum of activity around her provided a momentary distraction until a merchant waved to catch her attention. Ariana hesitated, instinctively wary, but curiosity pushed her feet forward.

    “You’re with the Inquisition, aren’t you?” The woman’s voice was tentative, her words laced with both hope and uncertainty. “I’d like to help. I don’t have much, but I can offer supplies—food, maybe some tools. I’ve never been part of anything like this before, but if you’re going to seal the sky…” She trailed off, her wide eyes searching Ariana’s face for reassurance. “Well, I want to help.”

    Before Ariana could respond, Cassandra stepped forward, her sharp gaze betraying her surprise. “You want to aid the Inquisition?”

    The merchant nodded firmly, despite her trembling hands. “Yes. I’ve heard the stories, and… I want to do something that matters.”

    Ariana tilted her head, the merchant’s words catching her off guard. Her lips parted, but the right response didn’t come. Was this really her decision to make? After all, she wasn’t leading the Inquisition—was she? Deflecting, she turned to Cassandra. “What do you think?”

    Cassandra’s brow arched, her expression unreadable but not unkind. “I think the woman is asking you, not me.”

    “She’s only being polite,” Ariana started, but the merchant interrupted with quiet urgency.

    “Well, you are the—”

    “The Herald of Andraste,” Cassandra finished, her tone steady and matter-of-fact. She crossed her arms, her gaze meeting Ariana’s. “Yes, I understand. Haven is a mess, but we won’t turn away aid. The decision is yours, Herald.”

    Ariana blinked, the title landing like an unexpected blow. For a moment, her composure faltered. Herald. The word settled over her, as heavy as it was fragile. She wasn’t a stranger to being believed in—she’d been the White Wolf for years, a legend whispered among those who sought hope and protection, a figure to stand for all who needed her.

    But this? This wasn’t belief in her skill or her ability to lead. This was belief in something divine. Something holy. And that… that was a different kind of weight entirely.

    She forced a faint smile, nodding to the merchant. “Head to Haven. We need good people.”

    The woman’s tense expression softened, gratitude lighting her features. “I don’t know if I’m that, but I’ll do what I can. Thank you.”

    As the merchant disappeared into the crowd, Ariana lingered, her eyes following her retreating figure. Warmth flickered briefly in her chest, mingling with a deeper unease. She hadn’t chosen this role, hadn’t asked for the weight of their belief—but it was there all the same, pressing against her doubts and demanding she rise to meet it.

    She exhaled slowly, her hands curling into fists at her sides as if grounding herself. They believe in me, she thought, her mind circling back to the White Wolf. But this isn’t the same. It wasn’t the weight of leadership or the risk of failing people who relied on her. It was the expectation of something more—something she wasn’t sure she even believed in herself.

    ~~~

    The group was preparing to leave the market when an arrow thudded into the cobblestone at Ariana’s feet, the shaft quivering slightly. She crouched to retrieve it, pulling free a note tied neatly to the shaft. The parchment unfurled to reveal a crude sketch of a location and cryptic instructions to search for “red things” in the market, the docks, and around the café. At the bottom was an unfamiliar signature: Friends of Red Jenny.

    “What is this?” Ariana muttered, passing the note to Varric.

    He studied it, a grin spreading across his face. “Ooh, a scavenger hunt. This could be fun—or it could be a trap. Probably a trap. But we’re going to do it either way, aren’t we?”

    Ariana chuckled, folding the note and tucking it into her pouch. “What do you think?”

    “Predictable,” Varric quipped, his tone teasing.

    The search took them across the city, chasing clues tucked in obscure corners. Three separate notes revealed fragments of the puzzle: a location, a time, and a key. By the time they pieced it all together, Ariana was already scanning the map for the meeting coordinates.

    “What’s the worst that could happen?” she asked with a shrug, her casual tone belied by the spark of mischief in her eyes.

    Varric grinned. “We’ll get ambushed.”

    Cassandra sighed audibly, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You’re aware this could very well be a trap, and yet you still intend to walk straight into it?”

    Ariana’s grin was unapologetic. “It’s more fun that way.”

    Solas shook his head, though there was a faint glimmer of amusement in his expression. Cassandra, however, looked thoroughly unimpressed. Her sharp glare suggested she was reconsidering every decision that had led her to this moment. Finally, with a deep sigh, she folded her arms.

    “Fine,” she muttered. “But do not expect me to indulge this madness again.”

    “Oh, come on, Seeker,” Varric said, his grin widening. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”

    “Firmly rooted in common sense,” Cassandra retorted, her tone as dry as the Waking Sea in a drought.

    Ariana laughed, glancing around the bustling market. “Well, seems like all we have left to do is wait for tonight. Anyone else hungry?”

    Varric smirked. “You just want to eat so you can daydream about the trouble we’re about to get into.”

    “Maybe,” Ariana replied breezily, her confidence as unshakable as ever. Beneath it, though, a faint unease curled at the edge of her thoughts. Whatever lay ahead, she would face it—as she always did. One step at a time.

    ~~~

    That night, the group followed the cryptic directions from the notes to an abandoned manor on the outskirts of Val Royeaux. Ariana stared at the empty structure, her instincts prickling with unease. “This feels like a terrible idea.”

    Varric smirked. “So, business as usual?”

    Rolling her eyes, Ariana cautiously pushed the door open. She barely had a moment to step inside before a fireball streaked toward her. She sidestepped it instinctively, the blast sending a wave of heat over her shoulder. Another fireball followed, this one missing by a wide margin and scorching the wall behind her.

    The source? An Orlesian nobleman, flanked by guards, who looked absurdly self-satisfied for someone whose aim was that atrocious.

    “Herald of Andraste!” the nobleman declared with theatrical flair. “How much did you expend to discover me? It must have weakened the Inquisition immeasurably!”

    Ariana froze mid-step, glancing back at Varric and Cassandra. Both shrugged, equally baffled.

    “Who are you, exactly?” she asked, her tone laced with confusion.

    The noble puffed out his chest, clearly affronted. “You don’t fool me! I’m too important for this to be an accident! My efforts will survive in victories against you elsewhere!”

    Before Ariana could attempt to decipher that nonsense, one of the guards behind the noble suddenly crumpled to the ground, an arrow protruding from his neck. An elf stepped into view, her bow already nocking another arrow.

    “Just say ‘What!’” the elf called out cheerfully, her tone far too casual for the situation.

    “What is the—” the noble began, but his words were cut short by her next arrow, which silenced him permanently. He collapsed in an unceremonious heap.

    Ariana blinked, her mind struggling to catch up. “What in the Maker’s name is going on here?”

    The elf didn’t respond immediately, muttering instead about rich nobles and their constant scheming before moving to loot the noble’s pockets with an air of practiced nonchalance.

    Finally, she looked up at Ariana and tilted her head. “It’s alright, innit? You’re her, you glow?”

    “Yes?” Ariana replied cautiously. “Some believe I’m the Herald of Andraste. But who are you, and what is this about?”

    “No idea. Don’t know this idiot from manners,” the elf said, nudging the noble’s body with her foot. “My people just said the Inquisition should look at him.”

    “Your people? Elves?” Ariana asked, still grappling for clarity.

    “No, people-people,” the elf replied as though it were obvious. “Name’s Sera. This is cover. Get ‘round it. For the reinforcements. Don’t worry. Someone tipped me their equipment shed. They’ve got no breeches.” She grinned, clearly pleased with herself.

    Ariana tilted her head slightly. “I… what?”

    Before Sera could elaborate, reinforcements poured into the courtyard, weapons drawn.

    “Why didn’t you take their weapons?” Ariana yelled mid-fight, dodging a clumsy swing.

    “Because no breeches!” Sera cackled, loosing arrows with unnerving accuracy and laughing as though she’d just heard the funniest joke in Thedas.

    The guards were poorly trained, and the group dispatched them quickly. Ariana found herself glancing at Sera repeatedly, trying to decide if the elf was an eccentric genius or completely unhinged. Possibly both.

    When the last guard fell, Sera turned to Ariana with a wide grin. “So, Herald of Andraste, you’re a strange one. I’d like to join.”

    Ariana pinched the bridge of her nose, exhaling slowly. “Could we take a few moments for sense to reassert itself? Who are you people?”

    “I’m not ‘people,’ but I get what you want. It’s like this,” Sera began, launching into a tangled explanation about the “Friends of Red Jenny.” Ariana tried to follow, piecing together that it was a loose network of common folk—servants, merchants, and others—dedicated to disrupting the powerful. Their methods, much like Sera herself, were wildly unconventional.

    “Here in your face, I’m Sera,” the elf concluded. “So, do you need people or not? I want to get everything back to normal. Like you?”

    Ariana sighed, recognizing the potential value of such a network but already anticipating the headaches it would bring. “Alright, Sera. I can use you and your… ‘friends.’”

    “Yes!” Sera cheered. “Get in good before you’re too big to like. That’ll keep your breeches where they should be. Plus extra breeches, because I have all these—you have merchants who buy that pish, yeah? Got to be worth something. Anyway, Haven. See you there, Herald. This will be grand.”

    With that, Sera bounded off, disappearing through a gate. Ariana stared after her in stunned silence.

    Varric approached, clapping a hand on her shoulder. “So, pup… did sense reassert itself yet?”

    Ariana shot him a flat look. “Not even a little. Let’s just get back to Haven. I don’t know what’s happening anymore.”

    Varric chuckled as they turned to leave, his amusement only growing. “Welcome to the Inquisition, kid. It only gets weirder from here.”

    ~~~

    As they prepared to leave Val Royeaux the following morning, Ariana caught sight of an elf weaving purposefully through the bustling square. Her robes, marked with mage insignias, drew more than a few curious glances. Ariana straightened instinctively, her gaze narrowing as the elf raised a hand in greeting.

    “If I might have a moment of your time?” the elf called, her voice steady but carrying a quiet intensity.

    Cassandra immediately stiffened, her sharp gaze snapping to the figure. “Grand Enchanter Fiona,” she said, her tone surprised but wary.

    Solas tilted his head, curiosity flickering across his otherwise calm demeanor. “The leader of the mage rebellion. It seems… bold for you to walk so openly here, in the heart of Val Royeaux.”

    Fiona inclined her head faintly, her poise unshaken. “Boldness often serves us well,” she replied. Her gaze shifted to Ariana, assessing but not unkind. “I heard of this gathering and wished to see the fabled Herald of Andraste for myself. If it’s aid with the Breach you seek, perhaps my people are the wiser choice.”

    Ariana blinked, taken aback by the elf’s directness. “I’m surprised the leader of the mages wasn’t at the Conclave,” she said, her tone more curious than accusatory.

    Cassandra, however, was less restrained. “You were expected to be there,” she said sharply. “Yet somehow, you avoided death.”

    Fiona’s brow arched slightly, her composure unbroken. “As did the Lord Seeker,” she countered smoothly, meeting Cassandra’s sharp gaze with her own. “And yet, I notice you’re not questioning him with the same vigor, Seeker Pentaghast.”

    Cassandra’s jaw tightened, but she remained silent. Fiona’s tone softened slightly, and for the first time, her calm facade cracked, revealing unmistakable sadness. “I lost many friends that day. People I cared for deeply. It sickens me to think the templars may get away with it. I hope you won’t allow that to happen.”

    “You believe the templars were responsible?” Ariana asked, frowning. The accusation wasn’t new, but there was a weight to Fiona’s words that was difficult to dismiss.

    “Why wouldn’t she?” Cassandra challenged, her voice cutting. “Lucius himself seems—”

    “Unconcerned,” Fiona finished bitterly. “You saw him. Do you truly believe he grieves for the Divine? For the templars lost at the Conclave? No. Lord Seeker Lucius sees only what he can gain. And if the deaths of the Divine and his fellows furthered his goals, I’ve no doubt he would embrace it.”

    Ariana felt a chill crawl up her spine. Not because Fiona’s accusations seemed outrageous, but because they mirrored her own suspicions. Lucius’s behavior in Val Royeaux had unsettled her in a way she couldn’t shake. His apathy hadn’t felt incidental; it had felt deliberate. Calculated.

    “And you believe the mages will help us?” Ariana asked carefully, watching Fiona closely. Trust didn’t come easily, least of all with someone as politically entangled as the Grand Enchanter.

    Fiona inclined her head. “Consider this an invitation to Redcliffe. Meet with the mages. An alliance could serve us both.”

    She turned her attention fully to Ariana, bowing slightly. “I hope to see you there. Au revoir, my lady Herald.”

    Fiona disappeared into the crowd with a calm swiftness that left a strange stillness in her wake. The sounds of the bustling square returned gradually, like distant thunder rolling closer.

    “Well,” Ariana said after a long pause, her voice wry but subdued. “That was unexpected.”

    Cassandra remained tense, her expression hard. “Come,” she said curtly. “Let us return to Haven.”

    As they passed through the gates of Val Royeaux, Ariana’s thoughts churned, Fiona’s words clinging to her like shadows. The Grand Enchanter’s calm assertions had only reinforced the unease that had gnawed at her since their encounter with Lucius. How could the Lord Seeker be so indifferent? The Divine was dead. A great many templars had died. And yet, Lucius seemed as unaffected as if he’d lost nothing at all.

    Her gaze shifted to Cassandra, whose silence seemed heavier than usual. Ariana could read the tension in the Seeker’s posture, the flickers of doubt that Cassandra worked so hard to keep buried. If even Cassandra had her reservations, what hope was there for finding aid with either the templars or the mages?

    One thing was becoming increasingly clear: whatever awaited them in Redcliffe, it would not be simple.

    ~~~

    As Ariana and Cassandra entered the Chantry upon their return to Haven, Cullen’s sharp eyes immediately sought her out. At first glance, she appeared composed—her stride confident, her expression calm. But to Cullen, the tension in her shoulders and the subtle stiffness in her movements told a different story. Something weighed on her, and it was more than just the weariness of travel.

    “It’s good you’ve returned. We heard of your encounter,” Josephine began, stepping forward with her usual grace, though her tone carried a thread of concern.

    “You heard?” Cassandra asked, her surprise evident.

    Leliana’s voice was cool and efficient. “My agents in the city sent word. It seems your meeting with the Lord Seeker did not go unnoticed.”

    Cullen frowned, crossing his arms. “It’s a shame the templars have abandoned not only Val Royeaux but their senses as well.”

    Ariana remained silent, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her gaze distant. Though her posture was steady, Cullen noticed the subtle movements that betrayed her: the rhythmic tapping of her fingers against her sleeve, the slight tightness in her jaw. He stepped closer, his concern overriding the conversation around them.

    “Ariana,” he said softly, his tone cutting through the noise. “Are you alright?”

    Her eyes snapped to his, startled, as though pulled from a distant thought. “I’m fine,” she replied quickly, though the hollowness in her voice belied her words. “At least now we know the mages are willing to speak with us. That’s something.”

    Josephine nodded, her calm optimism shining through. “Indeed, this gives us an opening to approach both the templars and the mages.”

    Ariana’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Does it?” she asked skeptically. “Because I’m not sure anything about the Lord Seeker suggested we have an opening there.”

    Cassandra’s frown deepened. “Lord Seeker Lucius is not the man I remember.”

    Cullen’s gaze shifted between them, his unease growing. “How well did you know him?” Ariana asked, her tone sharper now, as though trying to dissect something.

    Cassandra hesitated, her brows knitting together. “I was not his confidant, if that’s what you mean. He took over after Lord Seeker Lambert’s death, two years ago. He was reserved, pragmatic. Never one for theatrics or grandstanding. This…this is not the man I knew.”

    Ariana nodded faintly, though Cullen could see she was far from satisfied. Her gaze remained fixed on Cassandra, and her posture shifted ever so slightly, as though bracing herself against the weight of her thoughts.

    They began walking toward the war room, but Ariana’s steps slowed, her attention clearly elsewhere. Leliana’s voice cut through the silence.

    “The Lord Seeker has taken the Order somewhere, but to what end? My reports have been troubling.”

    Cullen’s jaw tightened, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “We must look into it. Not everyone in the Order will support him. There may still be templars who can be reasoned with.”

    Josephine’s tone was measured but cautious. “Or the Herald could go to Redcliffe. The mages may be the more viable option.”

    Cullen stopped abruptly, turning to face them. “You think the mage rebellion is more united? It could be ten times worse. Desperate mages—”

    “No,” Ariana interrupted, her voice quiet but insistent. “Not necessarily.” She trailed off, her expression distant, her eyes fixed ahead as though seeing something no one else could. “There’s just something about the Lord Seeker… his actions, his words… they’re familiar, but I can’t place why.”

    Cullen stepped closer, his brow furrowed in concern. “What are you saying, Ariana?”

    She shook her head, clearly unsettled. “I don’t know. It’s just… an uneasy feeling I can’t shake. Something is wrong.”

    Her words sent a cold ripple through Cullen, but before he could respond, Ariana suddenly stopped in her tracks. Her expression changed—her eyes darted as though piecing together a puzzle. Then, almost in a whisper, she said, “Maker… That’s it.”

    Cullen’s chest tightened, alarm flashing in his eyes. “What is?”

    Her hand gripped his arm, her voice firm and urgent. “Meredith.”

    The name hit him like a physical blow. His breath caught, and memories he had worked so hard to bury came rushing back. “What about Meredith?” he asked, his voice low and wary.

    “The look in Lucius’s eyes—distant, frenzied. His words. ‘The only destiny here that demands respect is mine.’ It’s not arrogance, Cullen. It’s detachment. Madness. I saw that same look in Meredith’s eyes. Heard it in her voice—when she threatened me at the Viscount’s Keep, when she ordered you…” Her voice softened as their eyes met. “When she ordered you to kill Hawke.”

    Cullen’s stomach twisted, nausea rising with the memory. He shook his head slowly, his voice tight. “What you’re implying—it isn’t possible. That artifact was destroyed.”

    “Red lyrium?” Cassandra asked grimly, her tone heavy with unease.

    “Or demons,” Ariana replied. “But yes. From the moment we saw him, I couldn’t shake the familiarity. It’s madness, Cullen. He’s being guided by something else, something that has a hold on him.”

    “Demons?” Leliana echoed, her brows knitting together. Her confusion was plain, though not dismissive.

    Ariana turned to her, then back to Cullen. “I only heard about what happened from Hawke and Varric. I didn’t see it myself…” She trailed off, the unspoken request clear in her gaze.

    Cullen’s throat tightened as the memories of Wilmod and the others surfaced, unbidden and unwelcome. He sighed heavily. “I’ve seen it before,” he admitted reluctantly. “Non-mages aren’t immune. All it takes is a willing host and blood magic for possession.” His gaze locked with hers, heavy with concern. “But we have no proof.”

    “I know,” she said softly, her frustration evident. “But I can’t ignore it.”

    He studied her, his chest tight with worry. The thought of her walking into Redcliffe, into the heart of the mage rebellion, filled him with dread. And now, the templars—once his own sanctuary—were no longer a safer option. That realization settled heavily in his gut.

    “I don’t like this,” he said quietly. “If you go to Redcliffe, you’re putting yourself at risk. If Lucius is as dangerous as you suspect, the templars aren’t any safer.”

    Her gaze softened, though her resolve remained unshaken. “I know you’re worried,” she said gently. “But we don’t have the luxury of choosing what’s safe, Cullen. Not anymore.”

    He nodded reluctantly, though the unease in his chest refused to fade. He had spent years trying to protect her in the only ways he knew how. Now, watching her step willingly into danger, he felt powerless.

  • Chapter 59 – The White Wolf Doesn’t Falter

    19 Guardian 9:41

    The War Room’s tense atmosphere thickened with every word from Solas. Cullen stood at the edge of the table, his knuckles whitening as he gripped its edge. His mind was a storm, but he forced himself to focus on the words being spoken. Solas continued to explain the catastrophic implications of the Breach, but Cullen’s thoughts kept slipping, pulled relentlessly back to her.

    She still wears it.

    The image of the ring on Ariana’s hand burned in his mind. It had been so long, and yet, there it was—a small, silent defiance against the years and the distance. Did she wear it as a token of the past? Or as a promise, still unbroken? The thought clawed at him, equal parts hope and guilt.

    “…this was no accident,” Solas said, his voice drawing Cullen back. “Someone caused the Breach.”

    Cullen forced his attention to the elven mage. “How?” he demanded, his voice colder than he intended.

    Solas’s calm, measured tone did nothing to ease Cullen’s tension. “Such a rupture requires a deliberate act, one steeped in ancient magic. Whatever its origin, it was no mere mishap.”

    Leliana leaned forward, her sharp gaze unyielding. “And the Veil itself? How much longer before it collapses entirely?”

    Solas’s expression grew darker. “Not long. If the Breach is not sealed, demons will pour into this world unchecked. There will be no haven, no sanctuary.”

    The gravity of his words sent a ripple of silence through the room. Cullen’s jaw tightened as he glanced toward the doorway, imagining Ariana lying unconscious beyond it. She had barely survived the explosion, and now… And now they want to send her back into the fire.

    “We have no choice,” Cassandra said, her voice cutting through the silence. “The mark may be the only thing capable of sealing the Breach.”

    Cullen’s head snapped toward her. “She hasn’t even woken up, and you’re already planning to send her to the Breach?” His voice was low, but it carried the weight of his mounting frustration.

    “It is not a matter of choice, Commander,” Cassandra shot back. “If she does not act, we are all doomed.”

    Solas’s calm voice interjected. “The mark resonates with the Breach. It is a connection, a potential solution. Stabilizing it will give her the strength to close the rifts.” He paused, his gaze steady but tinged with warning. “But there are no guarantees.”

    Cullen clenched his fists, his mind rebelling against the inevitability of the situation. Ariana had faced enough—more than anyone should be asked to bear. Yet the world seemed determined to demand more from her. He could feel the familiar weight of his failures pressing down, his inability to shield her from the burdens she never deserved.

    Leliana’s voice cut through his spiraling thoughts. “And what of her? Will this kill her?”

    Solas’s answer came with maddening composure. “I cannot say. The magic is unstable, and the process will take a toll. But if we do not act, the consequences will be far worse.” He paused, his gaze flickering briefly toward the doorway as if he could see Ariana through the stone walls. “The mark is bound to the Breach, its power expanding as the Breach grows. If we fail to close it, the mark will continue to spread. It will consume her, and she will die regardless. Closing the Breach may be her only chance of survival.”

    The room fell silent, the weight of Solas’s words settling heavily over them. Cullen’s stomach churned, his grip tightening on the table until his knuckles turned white. No choice, he thought bitterly. It always comes down to no choice.

    Cullen closed his eyes briefly, struggling to steady himself. The weight of the choice before them felt suffocating. He opened his eyes to find the others watching him, their faces reflecting the same grim determination.

    “We’ll do whatever it takes to protect her while she does this,” he said finally, his voice low but firm. “But she should have a say. She deserves that much.”

    “She’ll have her say,” Leliana assured him. “But for now, we prepare.”

    The others nodded, beginning to disperse, but Cullen remained rooted in place, his thoughts consumed by the image of her pale face, the glow of the mark that pulsed with unnatural light. She didn’t choose this. But I’ll make sure she survives it.

    As he turned to leave, the weight of his unspoken promise settled heavily on his shoulders. You have to survive, Ariana. I’ve failed you too many times before. Never again.

    ~~~

    Ariana’s senses returned in fragments, like pieces of shattered glass. Her head throbbed with a dull, insistent ache, and her body felt weighted, sluggish. Her left hand burned, a steady pulse of pain radiating from her palm. She opened her eyes, the dim light of the room blurring into shapes and shadows. Where am I?

    The room was unfamiliar, but the figures by the door weren’t. Valentina and Lamberto, Rangers both, stood guard, their weapons ready. A flicker of recognition tugged at the edges of her hazy thoughts. The Rangers. My Rangers.

    “Ariana?” Isabel’s voice drew her fully into the waking world. She turned her head toward the sound, muscles protesting the movement.

    “Isabel,” Ariana rasped, her voice rough from disuse. She tried to sit up, but her arms gave out beneath her.

    “Slow down,” Isabel said, her voice soft but firm. She was beside her in an instant, her hands steady as they guided Ariana back down. “You’ve been unconscious for days.”

    The words barely registered. Ariana’s memories were a jumbled mess—flashes of the Temple, the Conclave, and then… nothing. Her hand twitched, and a sharp, green light flared, sending pain shooting up her arm. She hissed, clutching her wrist as panic set in. “What… what is this?”

    Isabel’s calm faltered. “We’re still figuring that out.”

    A sharp knock interrupted them. Valentina’s hand moved instinctively to her weapon as the door opened. Two strangers stepped inside. One was a tall woman in armor, her expression sharp and assessing. The other, quieter but no less intense, followed like a shadow.

    “We need to speak with her,” the armored woman said brusquely.

    Valentina tilted her head, her tone cold. “You can speak. But if you try anything—”

    “Stand down,” Isabel interrupted, her gaze fixed on the newcomers. “Let’s hear what they have to say.”

    The taller woman stepped closer, her piercing eyes locking onto Ariana. “Tell me why we shouldn’t kill you where you lie.”

    The words hit like a blow. Ariana stared, her mind reeling. “Kill me? What—”

    “The Conclave is gone,” the woman said bluntly. “The Divine, the Templars, the mages—everyone. Dead. Except you.”

    Dead. The word echoed hollowly in Ariana’s mind. She struggled to make sense of it. “I… I don’t remember,” she admitted, her voice unsteady. “What happened?”

    The woman’s sharp gaze fell to her left hand, which pulsed faintly with green light. She grabbed Ariana’s wrist without warning, raising it for emphasis. “Explain this.”

    Ariana flinched, the pain making her gasp. “I don’t know!” she snapped, wrenching her hand back. “I don’t even know what this is.”

    Valentina stepped between them, her voice like steel. “Enough. She’s not your prisoner, Seeker.”

    “Seeker,” Ariana echoed bitterly, glaring at the woman. “Cassandra Pentaghast, The Right Hand of the Divine? Figures.”

    “What’s the last thing you remember?” Valentina asked gently, crouching beside her.

    Ariana’s breathing slowed as she tried to sort through the fragments of memory. “I was running,” she said slowly. “There were… spiders. And a woman. She reached for me, and then…” She shook her head, frustration mounting. “It’s gone.”

    Cassandra’s expression remained hard. “How convenient,” she muttered.

    “Convenient?” Ariana snapped, her voice rising despite her exhaustion. “You think I planned this? Do you have any idea what I’ve—”

    “Enough.” Isabel’s voice was a sharp rebuke, her hand resting on Ariana’s shoulder. “She’s been through enough without your accusations.”

    “We’re taking her to the Breach,” Cassandra said curtly. “She may not remember, but the mark on her hand may be the key to stopping this.”

    Ariana’s head swam as the room tilted. “The Breach?” she repeated weakly. “What the hell is the Breach?”

    “You’ll see soon enough,” Cassandra replied.

    With Valentina’s help, Ariana pushed herself to her feet, swaying unsteadily. As they stepped outside, the air hit her like a physical force—cold, sharp, and filled with the faint hum of something unnatural. She looked up and froze.

    A massive, churning tear dominated the sky, its green light casting eerie shadows across Haven. It pulsed like a heartbeat, a low hum reverberating through the air.

    “What is that?” she whispered, dread settling deep in her chest.

    “The Breach,” Cassandra said. “A tear in the Veil. It is growing, and it is killing you.”

    Ariana turned to her, disbelief and anger flaring. “Killing me? What the—” She stopped as her gaze caught on her left hand. The mark glowed faintly, the pulsing light casting her fingers in an otherworldly hue. Then her eyes fell to the ring still on her finger, a small anchor amidst the chaos.

    Relief washed over her. It’s still here. It’s safe. But the thought was fleeting, replaced by the cold realization that she didn’t understand the mark’s power. Her fingers moved to the leather choker around her neck, unclasping it with practiced ease. She carefully slid the ring onto the worn leather, its weight reassuring as she refastened the choker and tucked it beneath her tunic. She wouldn’t risk losing it to whatever this was.

    “Worried about your jewelry?” Cassandra’s voice was sharp, cutting through the moment.

    Ariana shot her a glare. “I’m listening, Seeker. You’d be amazed what I can do with my hands while still paying attention.”

    Cassandra’s jaw tightened, but she continued. “The mark is tied to the Breach. Every time it grows, the mark spreads. And it is killing you.”

    Ariana clenched her fists, her anger a shield against the rising fear. “And you think I did this?” she asked coldly. “You think I wanted this?”

    “We don’t know what happened,” Cassandra admitted, though suspicion lingered in her eyes. “But you’re the only one who survived.”

    “Then find out!” Ariana snapped. “Stop pointing fingers and do something useful. Or better yet, let me figure out who’s responsible, since you seem so lost.”

    Valentina chuckled softly, her hand steady on Ariana’s arm. “There’s the Wolf we know.”

    Ariana’s glare softened slightly, her exhaustion catching up to her. She turned back to the Breach, its unnatural light reflecting in her eyes. “Whatever this is,” she muttered, “we’ll stop it. One way or another.”

    Valentina nodded. “You’ve got us, Wolf. We’re not going anywhere.”

    Cassandra’s lips thinned, but she said nothing more as the group began moving toward the forward camp. Ariana’s jaw clenched as she kept her eyes on the swirling light above. This won’t break me, she promised herself. It never does.

    ~~~

    The sound of combat echoed louder with each step they took, the sharp clash of steel and the guttural cries of demons mixing with the unnatural hum of the Breach. Ariana’s hand throbbed in time with its pulse, each searing ache a reminder of the strange magic now tethered to her. Her fingers gripped the daggers tightly, the familiar weight grounding her in the chaos.

    “We’re getting close to the rift,” Cassandra called over her shoulder, her voice as sharp as the frost-bitten wind.

    Ariana’s gaze swept across the devastation. Burned wagons lay strewn along the path, their wheels splintered. The faint smell of sulfur lingered in the air, mingling with the acrid stench of charred wood and smoldering debris. In the distance, a jagged green crystal loomed, pulsating with the same eerie energy as the sky above. That’s it, she thought grimly. The source of all this madness.

    But as her eyes roamed the battlefield, they caught on a familiar figure—crossbow in hand, firing with calm precision at the swarm of demons surrounding him. Relief surged through her, momentarily lifting the oppressive weight in her chest.

    “Varric!” she shouted, her voice carrying both exasperation and gratitude.

    The dwarf turned, loosing another bolt before glancing back at her with a grin. “Took you long enough, pup! I was starting to think I’d be fighting these things alone.”

    Ariana couldn’t help but smirk as she sprinted toward him, her daggers flashing in the dim light. She dove into the fray, each strike driven by a mix of anger and desperation. Her movements were fluid, her blade finding its mark again and again. The demons fell quickly, dissolving into dark mist, leaving only silence in their wake.

    “Nice timing,” Varric said, lowering Bianca. His grin faded slightly as he studied her. “You alright?”

    Ariana wiped her blade on her arm, her breath still coming fast. “Ask me when this is over.”

    Before she could catch her breath, an elf stepped forward—tall and calm, his sharp gaze locked on her. Without warning, he grabbed her wrist and guided her glowing hand toward the rift. The sudden flare of the mark sent a white-hot jolt of pain coursing through her, and she bit back a scream as the energy surged.

    The rift flickered, then collapsed with a final pulse of green light. Silence returned.

    The elf released her hand, his expression calm. “I am Solas,” he said, his voice smooth and measured. “The mark on your hand reacts to the Breach’s magic. It may be the only thing capable of sealing these rifts.”

    Ariana pulled her hand back, flexing her fingers as the pain ebbed. “Well,” she muttered, “at least it’s good for something.”

    Varric chuckled. “Still standing. I’ll call it a win.”

    She rolled her eyes, sliding her daggers into their sheaths. “The definition of that word is getting pretty broad.”

    “Well, the alternative isn’t great” he quipped, though his grin faded slightly as he glanced at her. “You alright, pup?”

    “Ask me again when this is over,” she replied, though her voice was quieter now, her gaze shifting toward the smoldering path ahead. “The Rangers?” she asked, her voice low.

    Varric’s grin faded entirely. “They’ve held so far, but it’s bad, pup. Real bad. If we don’t close the Breach soon…” He trailed off, shaking his head.

    Her throat tightened, but she nodded. “Then we keep moving.”

    As they pushed onward, the faint embers of hope Ariana had clung to since waking began to dim. The Rangers were scattered, the Temple destroyed, and her own body betrayed her with this mark. But beneath all that, another thought crept in, one she had tried to bury beneath focus and resolve.

    Cullen.

    Riley had told her he was missing, and some part of her had hoped—hoped he would be here, among the Templar leadership at the Conclave as the Knight-Commander of Kirkwall. But if he had been at the Temple… She shook her head, trying to banish the thought. No. I would know if he were gone.

    But then the reality of his absence settled like a weight on her chest. If he hadn’t been at the Conclave and had been missing for over four months… What are the chances he’s still alive? The sinking dread clawed at her, and she clenched her jaw, forcing herself to focus on the path ahead.

    As they trudged forward, Varric fell into step beside her. “You’ve got to tell me, what happened back there? At the Temple?”

    Ariana sighed, rubbing her temples. “I don’t remember much. One minute I was walking the grounds, the next… nothing. Just flashes of running and…” Her voice faltered. “And the Rangers. I think they were with me, but it’s all a blur.”

    Varric gave her a sidelong glance. “Did I teach you nothing? You should’ve spun a story”

    Cassandra let out a low grunt of disapproval. “That is what you would have done,” she snapped, her tone dripping with chastisement.

    “Of course I would have,” Varric shot back with a smirk. “It’s more believable and significantly less likely to result in premature execution.”

    She managed a weak laugh, shaking her head. “Next time I wake up with strange magic and everyone blaming me for the end of the world, I’ll keep that in mind.”

    They reached the forward camp, where another rift loomed, surrounded by demons. The fight that followed was brutal but swift, and with a flash of green light, the mark once again sealed the rift.

    “That thing’s coming in handy,” Varric quipped, leaning on a nearby crate.

    “You want it, Varric?” Ariana shot back with a teasing smile. “I’d be happy for you to take it off my hands. Literally.”

    Varric barked a laugh, his grin widening. “Nah, I’m good. Looks like it stings a bit.”

    “It does,” Ariana muttered, flexing her hand as the last echoes of pain subsided. For a brief moment, the banter lightened the weight of the chaos around them, and she was grateful for it.

    Varric barked a laugh, but the humor felt hollow. As they settled into tense quiet, Ariana’s thoughts circled back to Cullen, the despair pressing down harder now. For the first time, she allowed herself to feel it fully—the fear that she would never find him, that she had already lost him.

    ~~~

    The forward camp was a maelstrom of tension and barely contained panic. Soldiers moved hurriedly, their faces taut with fear and exhaustion as the unnatural green light of the Breach loomed above. The air vibrated with magic, its ominous hum a constant reminder of the chaos threatening to consume them.

    Near the command table, an argument flared, sharp voices rising above the din. Ariana’s eyes narrowed as she caught sight of Leliana locked in a battle of words with a tall, stern man clad in richly embroidered robes—his posture practically dripping with self-importance.

    “We must prepare the soldiers,” Leliana insisted, her tone resolute. “If we delay any longer, the Breach will overwhelm us.”

    “And lead them to their deaths?” the man countered, his disdain cutting through the air. “Retreat is the only sensible course.”

    Ariana sighed, her frustration mounting. How is this helpful? Cassandra’s stride was purposeful beside her, while Valentina and Lamberto flanked them, ever watchful. As they approached, the man’s eyes fell on Ariana, his expression souring further.

    “The prisoner arrives,” he said, his voice laced with contempt. “You would stake our survival on her?”

    “She is Lady Trevelyan,” Leliana retorted sharply. “And she may be our only chance of stopping the Breach.”

    “I know exactly who she is,” the man snapped, turning his glare to Cassandra. “As Grand Chancellor of the Chantry, I order you to take this criminal to Val Royeaux for trial and execution.”

    “Order me?” Cassandra’s voice was like the crack of a whip. Her glare was fierce enough to silence the camp. “You are a glorified clerk. A bureaucrat!”

    Valentina leaned toward Ariana, raising an amused brow. “Entertaining, isn’t it?”

    Ariana let out a quiet, exasperated laugh. “Leave it to institutions to bicker while everything falls apart,” she muttered.

    “Not how the Rangers do things,” Lamberto remarked dryly. “What now, Wolf? Step in?”

    Ariana’s patience wore thin as the exchange dragged on. She strode forward, her voice cutting through the argument. “Let me get this straight,” she said, her tone sharp. “None of you are in charge, and instead of acting, you’re wasting time arguing?”

    Roderick bristled. “You dare—”

    “Oh, I dare,” Ariana interrupted, crossing her arms. “Demons are pouring out of the sky, and you’re debating politics? Either take action or get out of the way.”

    Cassandra’s lips twitched faintly, but her expression remained hard. “You have a better plan, Lady Trevelyan?”

    “I do,” Ariana replied firmly. “We move now. Every second we waste costs more lives.”

    “That is madness,” Roderick sputtered. “You would throw lives away on a fool’s errand!”

    Ariana turned to him, her eyes cold. “Then stay behind, Chancellor. Some of us still have work to do.”

    Leliana’s smirk was barely concealed as she addressed Cassandra. “There are two paths to the Temple,” she said. “The direct route is faster but overrun with demons. The mountain path is safer, but slower.”

    “The direct route,” Ariana said without hesitation.

    Cassandra studied her, as though weighing her resolve. Finally, she nodded. “We move immediately.”

    As they turned to leave, Roderick called out, his voice biting. “On your head be the consequences, Seeker.”

    Cassandra stiffened but didn’t respond, her focus already on the task ahead. Ariana didn’t spare Roderick a glance. There was no time for doubt or hesitation.

    Valentina and Lamberto fell in step behind her, their silent presence a reassurance. As they approached the path leading to the Temple, soldiers watched her with a mix of fear, suspicion, and tentative hope. The weight of their stares settled heavily on her shoulders.

    They’re not looking at me. They’re looking at the White Wolf, she thought, the burden of expectation pressing down.

    “You act as if the Divine herself chose you for this,” Cassandra remarked, her tone laced with curiosity.

    “She did,” Ariana replied, her voice quiet but unwavering. “And now we make sure she wasn’t wrong.”

    Cassandra didn’t argue. Instead, she nodded, a flicker of something softer in her eyes. Together, they pressed on, the Temple and the Breach drawing closer with each step.

    ~~~

    The Temple loomed ahead, shrouded in green light and the eerie hum of the Breach. The ruins stood like broken teeth against the sky, and the battlefield was a chaotic blur of soldiers and demons locked in a desperate struggle. Ariana’s pulse quickened as her gaze swept over the carnage. Her body ached with exhaustion, but her mind remained sharp, driven by a singular need to survive and protect those who could not.

    Her eyes caught on a figure near the center of the fighting—a tall, armored man whose every movement spoke of precision and command. He cut through the demons with practiced efficiency, his blade flashing in the unnatural light. Ariana’s breath caught. Cullen.

    The relief was so overwhelming it almost brought her to her knees. He’s alive. Her grip on her daggers tightened as she surged forward, the mark on her hand flaring with each step. The pain was nothing compared to the burning urgency in her chest.

    Before she could call out, a hulking demon broke from the melee, its jagged claws poised to strike Cullen’s unprotected side. He was locked in combat, too focused to see the threat.

    “No!” Ariana shouted, her voice raw.

    She moved without thinking, her body a blur of motion. Her daggers flashed as she intercepted the demon, her blades finding purchase in its thick hide. The creature roared, swiping at her with deadly force, but she ducked under its claws, her movements fluid and precise.

    Cullen turned, his eyes widening in recognition as she fought the demon back. For a moment, he froze.

    “Ariana,” he breathed, the name barely audible over the chaos.

    “Cullen, focus!” she barked, driving her blade into the demon’s throat. It dissolved into ash, and she turned to face him fully.

    They fell into step as if no time had passed, moving together like two halves of the same blade. She parried while he struck, their rhythm seamless. The years and distance between them evaporated in the heat of battle, and for a brief, shining moment, it felt like nothing had changed.

    When the last demon fell, the tension eased, leaving only the crackling energy of the rift and the distant cries of soldiers still fighting. Ariana’s left hand flared in response, the mark glowing with a searing light. She winced, clutching it instinctively. She stepped forward, raising her glowing palm toward the rift. 

    The mark flared brighter, the energy surging violently through her arm. Pain rippled through her entire body like fire racing along her veins. Her knees buckled slightly, but she forced herself to remain standing, teeth clenched as she channeled the magic. 

    When the rift collapsed with a final pulse, Ariana’s breaths came in ragged gasps. She staggered slightly, the weight of her exhaustion catching up to her. Cullen was at her side in an instant, his sword still in hand.

    “Ariana,” he said again, this time with more force.

    She dropped her daggers without thinking and stepped into his arms, the relief washing over her in a wave. “You’re alive,” she murmured, her voice breaking. “I thought—” She couldn’t finish the sentence, couldn’t give voice to the fear that had gripped her since Riley told her he was missing.

    Cullen hesitated for only a moment before pulling her close, his armor cold against her. “Of course, I’m alive,” he said quietly, though his voice wavered. “I didn’t—”

    “They said you were missing,” Ariana interrupted, her voice thick with emotion. “I thought you’d been at the Conclave, and then—” She pulled back just enough to look at him, her hand brushing against a scar above his lip. Her fingers lingered as if needing to confirm he was real.

    His eyes softened, his expression a mixture of relief and pain. “I’m here,” he said simply.

    The sound of Cassandra’s voice shattered the moment. “Commander,” she called, her tone urgent.

    They broke apart, both suddenly aware of the battlefield around them. Cassandra and Solas approached, their expressions grim.

    “We must move,” Solas said, his gaze flicking to Ariana’s hand. “The mark grows unstable with each passing moment. We cannot afford to delay.”

    Cullen’s hand shot out, gripping her arm gently but firmly. “Are you sure you can do this?” His gaze flicked to her hand, then to her face. The concern in his eyes was unmistakable, but Ariana caught the brief flicker of his gaze toward her ring finger, now bare. The moment passed in a heartbeat, but the look lingered in her mind. He didn’t say anything, but she knew he had noticed.

    “I’ll manage,” she said, her voice steady despite the strain. “I don’t have a choice.”

    Cullen’s jaw tightened as his eyes lingered on Ariana. “Be careful,” he said, the words heavy with unspoken meaning.

    She managed a faint smile, her exhaustion clear. “Always.”

    As they turned toward the Temple, Ariana cast one last glance over her shoulder. Cullen’s gaze was still on her, and for a moment, the chaos around them faded into the background.

    Survive this, she thought, the words meant for both of them.

    ~~~

    As they entered what remained of the Temple of Sacred Ashes, the air felt thick with foreboding. The acrid scent of charred stone and ash clung to every surface, mingling with the faint hum of magic that made the hair on Ariana’s arms stand on end. Leliana and a group of soldiers caught up with them, their presence a mix of relief and urgency. Determined to reach the rift and uncover what had happened, they pressed on through the shattered remains of the once-holy site.

    As they neared the center of the Temple, a voice reverberated through the air, low and menacing: “Now is the hour of our victory. Bring forth the sacrifice.”

    Ariana froze mid-step, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up. “Oh no… no, no. I’m not doing another haunted house,” she muttered, shooting a sharp glance at Varric.

    Varric smirked faintly, his crossbow already raised. “You and me both, pup. Let’s not make this a habit.”

    “What are we hearing?” Cassandra demanded, her voice edged with unease. For all her stoicism, even she couldn’t mask her discomfort.

    “At a guess? The person responsible for the Breach,” Solas answered, his tone as calm and measured as if they were discussing the weather. It grated on Ariana’s nerves.

    The voice echoed again as they moved deeper into the ruins, the sinister cadence like nails against stone: “Keep the sacrifice still.”

    Then came a cry that froze Ariana in place. “Someone help me!” It was unmistakable—Divine Justinia’s voice.

    Cassandra’s face went pale, her eyes wide with disbelief. “That is… the Divine. That is her voice!”

    Ariana’s jaw tightened, her silence speaking louder than words. She hadn’t known Justinia well—not personally—but the Divine had entrusted her, believed in her, and Ariana had failed her. Failed everyone.

    As they descended to the next level, the walls began to shimmer with jagged veins of red lyrium. Ariana’s breath hitched at the sight of it, her pulse quickening. 

    “Maker…” Varric began, his voice unusually strained, his gaze locked on the glowing veins.

    “Red lyrium,” Ariana finished, her voice grim and tinged with exhaustion. She forced a wry smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I really didn’t want to do another haunted house.”

    “This place reeks of it,” Varric muttered, his usual bravado replaced with unease. 

    The oppressive energy seemed to thicken as they approached the Temple’s heart. Suddenly, the mark on Ariana’s hand flared painfully, forcing her to a halt. A wave of nausea rolled over her as a vision formed in the air above the rift.

    The scene unfolded like a memory etched in time. Divine Justinia was restrained by shimmering magical bindings, her expression calm but determined even as a dark, hooded figure loomed over her.

    “What’s going on here?” Ariana’s voice cut through the vision. Her own form stepped into view, her daggers drawn.

    The Divine turned her head sharply, her voice urgent. “Run while you can! Warn them!”

    The hooded figure’s voice dripped with malice. “We have an intruder. Kill her. Now.”

    The vision dissipated as abruptly as it had appeared, leaving the group in stunned silence.

    Cassandra’s voice broke the stillness, tight with a mix of accusation and desperation. “Most Holy called out to you. What happened here?” 

    Ariana stared at the empty space where the vision had been, her chest tightening. She could still feel the Divine’s urgency, her plea for help echoing in her mind. But the answers eluded her. She shook her head, her voice trembling. “I… I don’t know. I don’t remember.”

    Solas stepped closer to the rift, inspecting it carefully. “The rift is closed, but not sealed. To seal it properly, we must reopen it.”

    Ariana’s head snapped toward him, incredulous. “Reopen it? That has to be the worst idea I’ve ever heard.”

    “We’ve had a lot of those lately,” Varric quipped, his dry humor cutting through the tension just enough to make her lips twitch. 

    “It will draw attention from the other side,” Solas warned. “Be ready.”

    Cassandra issued sharp orders to the soldiers. “Defensive positions! Prepare yourselves!”

    Ariana’s gaze flicked between the rift and the faces around her—Cassandra, Varric, and the soldiers who still held the line despite their fear. She clenched her jaw, the weight of it all settling in her chest like a stone. How many more lives will this cost? she thought bitterly, flexing her aching hand. She hadn’t chosen this, but the bodies littering the Temple’s ruins were a cruel reminder that choice no longer mattered. If I don’t do this, no one else will.

    Ariana hesitated, glancing at Varric. His calm nod, his steady presence, gave her just enough courage to step forward. The White Wolf doesn’t falter. Taking a deep breath, she raised her hand toward the rift and let the mark’s magic surge once more.

    The rift exploded open with a blinding flash of light, the energy roaring like a storm unleashed. A massive Pride Demon emerged, its roar shaking the shattered walls of the Temple.

    The battle was immediate and relentless. Ariana fought with everything she had, dodging the demon’s crushing blows and striking whenever an opening presented itself. Her daggers gleamed in the eerie light, but they felt inadequate against such a foe.

    “You’ve faced worse, pup!” Varric called, loosing bolt after bolt into the demon’s back. “Don’t let this one make you look bad!”

    “Worry less about me, Varric, and aim better!” Ariana shot back, the banter keeping her grounded amidst the chaos.

    The Pride Demon roared again, swiping its massive arm and sending a group of soldiers sprawling. Ariana gritted her teeth, channeling the mark’s energy directly into the rift. A shockwave rippled through the chamber, staggering the demon.

    “Nice move!” Varric shouted, his crossbow releasing another bolt.

    The Pride Demon roared, its massive fists slamming into the ground with enough force to send cracks spidering out beneath their feet. Ariana darted to the side, narrowly avoiding a blow that would have crushed her outright. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her movements slowing as exhaustion clawed at her limbs. “Could this thing get any bigger?” she muttered, dodging another swing.

    “Bigger? Probably,” Varric called out, loosing another bolt. “But I’m thinking uglier is a stretch.”

    Ariana’s lips twitched, but the fleeting humor did little to steady her. She caught a brief opening, driving her daggers into the demon’s leg. It roared in fury, staggering back. “It’s not enough,” she growled, frustration lacing her voice.

    “It’s weakening!” Cassandra shouted, her shield raised as she blocked a blow. “Keep pushing!”

    With renewed focus, Ariana channeled her remaining strength into the mark, directing its power toward the rift. The demon faltered, its massive form shimmering as the energy pulled at it, unraveling its connection to the mortal plane.

    “Now! Seal the rift!” Cassandra commanded.

    Ariana stepped forward, her legs trembling as she raised her hand. The mark burned hotter than ever, the energy within it wild and untamed. She clenched her teeth against the pain, forcing the magic into the rift. 

    The rift resisted, pulling against her, threatening to tear her apart. Her vision blurred, but she pushed harder, pouring every ounce of strength into the mark. The edges of the rift began to fold in on themselves, shrinking with each agonizing second. Finally, with a deafening pulse of light, the rift closed completely.

    The chamber went silent. Ariana swayed on her feet, her strength spent, before collapsing to the ground. The world dimmed as the pain in her hand ebbed, and then darkness claimed her once more.

  • Chapter 58 – Shadows of the Past

    15 – 18 Guardian 9:41

    The ground shuddered beneath Cullen’s boots as he stood among the chaos, directing the combined forces of Templars and Rangers to hold the line against the encroaching demons. His voice rang out, steady and commanding, even as the unnatural glow of the rift in the distance cast an eerie green pall over the battlefield.

    “Reinforce the left flank! Hold them there!” he barked, his hand tightening around the hilt of his sword.

    But then Riley’s voice broke through the din, sharp and desperate. “She’s alive! Someone get help!”

    The words struck him like a blow. His head snapped toward the Temple steps just as a figure emerged, stumbling before collapsing onto the cold stone. The fur-lined white cloak, now streaked with ash and blood, was unmistakable.

    Ariana.

    His heart twisted violently, relief and terror clashing in his chest. She was alive—but barely. His legs moved before his mind could catch up, carrying him toward her crumpled form. The glowing green light emanating from her hand made his breath hitch. What is this? What happened to her?

    By the time he reached her, Riley was already kneeling beside Ariana, her hands gripping her shoulders, shaking her gently. “Wolf! Come on, wake up. You hear me? Stay with me!” Riley’s voice cracked, panic seeping through her usual confident tone.

    Cullen dropped to his knees beside them, his gauntlet hovering uncertainly over Ariana’s hand as his gaze swept over her. She looked so small, so fragile—words he would never have associated with her before. The glowing green magic pulsing from her hand sent a chill down his spine, but it was the pallor of her face and the stillness of her body that twisted the knife in his chest.

    “She’s breathing,” Riley muttered, her voice tight. But her eyes darted between Cullen and Ariana’s hand, fear creeping into her expression. “What the hell is this?”

    Cullen didn’t answer immediately. His hand trembled slightly as he reached for Ariana’s left hand, carefully pulling off the glove that covered it. The glow intensified as the glove slid free, the green light illuminating her slender fingers. And there, nestled on her ring finger, was the engagement ring he had given her all those years ago.

    His breath caught. The sight of it—so simple, so familiar—brought a wave of emotion crashing over him. She still wore it. Through everything, through the years they had been apart, she still had it. A lump rose in his throat, and he clenched his jaw against the sudden, overwhelming ache in his chest.

    The ring gleamed faintly in the unnatural light, a testament to promises made long ago. It was more than a symbol; it was a lifeline, tethering him to the memory of who they once were. And who, perhaps, they could still be.

    “She didn’t do this,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “She’s not a mage. Someone—something—did this to her.”

    Riley’s head snapped up, her voice fierce despite the tears brimming in her eyes. “Of course she didn’t do this. Whatever happened up there, she was trying to stop it. She always is.”

    Cullen swallowed hard, his mind racing. The explosion, the Divine’s death, the rift—it all felt like a puzzle with missing pieces. He had failed to protect Ariana in Kirkwall, had left her to face the weight of that city’s chaos alone. Now, seeing her like this, broken and battered, that failure cut deeper than any blade ever could.

    “She’s burning up,” Riley said suddenly, her voice taut with urgency as she adjusted Ariana’s cloak in a futile attempt to shield her from the biting cold. Her hands trembled as they hovered near Ariana’s face, brushing away stray strands of hair that clung to her pale, sweat-dampened skin. “We need to move her. Maker, what do we do?”

    Cullen eyes fixed on Ariana’s unnaturally still form. The soft green light emanating from her hand cast flickering shadows across her face, her features drawn and fragile in the eerie glow. His heart ached at the sight, the sharp contrast to the defiant strength he had always admired in her.

    She doesn’t belong here, like this, he thought bitterly, anger and fear warring within him. She was a fighter, his fighter, and yet here she lay, cold and vulnerable, on the edge of slipping away.

    Without a word, Cullen slid his arms beneath her back and legs, lifting her as though she weighed nothing. His armor clinked softly as he rose, the sound barely audible over the pounding of his own heart. “We get her to safety,” he said, his voice low but firm, the words steadying him even as the storm of emotion threatened to break through his composure.

    Riley stayed close, her boots crunching on the frozen ground as she followed his every step. Her hand lingered on Ariana’s shoulder, her lips pressed into a thin line as though willing her strength to flow into her unconscious leader. “She’ll fight through this,” Riley muttered, her voice barely more than a whisper, as if speaking the words aloud would make them true. “She has to.”

    Cullen glanced at her, his golden eyes shadowed with a mixture of pain and resolve. “She will,” he replied, though his voice betrayed the doubt gnawing at the edges of his mind. It sounded more like a prayer than a certainty, a plea to the Maker for something—anything—to keep her tethered to this world.

    His gaze fell back to Ariana’s face. Even now, despite the ash streaking her cheeks and the blood matted in her dark hair, she looked achingly familiar. But it was the faint gleam of silver on her hand that kept drawing his attention. Her ring—their ring—still nestled on her finger. His throat tightened, a pang of something too raw to name cutting through him. After everything, she had kept it.

    A soldier hurried over with Cullen’s horse, and he carefully mounted, Ariana cradled securely in his arms. The warmth of her body, faint and fragile, seeped through his armor, a reminder of how close he had come to losing her.

    Riley swung onto her own horse with practiced ease, her sharp eyes scanning the treacherous path ahead. “You keep her safe, Cullen,” she said, her voice rough, edged with a vulnerability she rarely let show. “Whatever this is… don’t let it take her.”

    He met her gaze, the weight of her words sinking into his soul. “I won’t,” he promised, his tone steely. Yet beneath the resolve, his heart twisted with fear. The unnatural light still pulsed from Ariana’s hand, a chilling reminder of the unknown force now entwined with her fate.

    As they rode down the mountain, the cold wind lashed at them, carrying the scent of ash and blood. Cullen’s arms tightened around Ariana’s unconscious form, his mind a storm of worry and determination.

    I will fight for her this time, he vowed silently, his jaw set with grim resolve. No matter what it takes.

    ~~~

    The heavy atmosphere in Haven pressed down like a storm cloud as Cullen carried Ariana through the gates, her limp body a stark contrast to the flickering green light that pulsed from her hand. The glow had dimmed, but its rhythm was no less unnatural, casting an eerie hue over her pale features. Each step felt heavier, burdened not by her weight but by the crushing fear gnawing at his chest. Around him, soldiers and civilians scrambled to prepare for the unknown threat looming above the mountains—a tear in the sky that seemed to pulse with malevolent intent.

    As they crossed the threshold into Haven, Cassandra, Leliana, and Josephine hurried to meet them. Cassandra’s eyes immediately locked onto Ariana, her sharp gaze flicking to Cullen with a mixture of confusion and suspicion.

    “Commander,” Cassandra began, her tone demanding, “did you find the Divine?”

    Cullen shook his head grimly. “There were no survivors at the Temple… save for her.” His voice cracked slightly as he gestured to Ariana. “She’s injured, and something—some magic—is clinging to her hand. She needs a healer immediately.” The words came out more forcefully than intended, his frustration barely contained.

    Before anyone could respond, a calm, unfamiliar voice interrupted. “I may be able to help.”

    All eyes turned toward the speaker, a tall, pale man approaching with deliberate calm. His piercing gaze seemed to cut through the tension with an almost eerie ease.

    “Who are you?” Cassandra demanded, her hand instinctively moving to her sword hilt.

    “I am Solas,” the man replied evenly, his gaze flicking briefly to Ariana before returning to Cassandra. “I have knowledge of what afflicts her and may be able to stabilize it.”

    Cullen’s frown deepened, his grip on Ariana tightening. “And why should we trust you?”

    Solas’s expression remained maddeningly serene. “You have no reason to trust me. But if that mark on her hand remains unchecked, she will die—and possibly take much of Haven with her.”

    A tense silence followed, broken only by the distant murmurs of frightened villagers. Cullen exchanged a wary glance with Cassandra and Leliana before nodding sharply. “Very well. Lead the way.”

    Solas led them to a nearby building, its interior sparse but cleared for use. Cullen gently laid Ariana on the makeshift bed, the green glow casting faint shadows on the bare walls. His eyes lingered on her face, and for a moment, the weight of everything threatened to overwhelm him. She has to pull through, he thought fiercely.

    Cassandra’s expression remained thunderous, distrust radiating off her in waves as Solas knelt beside Ariana and began his work. The elf’s murmured words of power filled the room, the green light on Ariana’s hand flaring slightly with each syllable.

    The door creaked open, and Varric entered, his usual nonchalance replaced by a grim determination. He knelt by Ariana’s side, brushing ash from her hair with a tenderness that belied his gruff exterior. “Pup, what in the Void did you get yourself into this time?” he muttered, his voice low and pained.

    Cassandra’s sharp tone cut through the moment. “Varric, you know her? Did you know what she was planning?”

    Varric’s gaze snapped to Cassandra, his usual humor nowhere to be found. “Watch your tone, Seeker,” he said, standing straighter. “She didn’t plan for this. You think she caused it? Look at her!” He gestured toward Ariana, his voice rising. “Does she look like someone who orchestrated this chaos?”

    “She’s the only survivor,” Cassandra snapped back. “And the Divine is dead. Who else should we hold accountable?”

    Riley, who had been silent until now, stepped forward, her tone biting. “Probably not the person the Divine herself hired to ensure this didn’t happen,” she said coldly.

    Cassandra’s glare faltered for a moment, a flicker of pain or guilt crossing her face before her expression hardened again.

    Cullen stepped between them, his voice calm but resolute. “I don’t believe she’s responsible for the explosion. She’s clearly been affected by whatever happened. Right now, she needs help, not accusations.”

    Cassandra’s eyes narrowed, her frustration mounting. “This isn’t about belief, Commander. The Divine is dead. Someone must answer for this.”

    “And when we find who is responsible, they will,” Cullen replied, his voice steady but firm. “But it wasn’t her.”

    Cassandra crossed her arms, her tone icy. “The White Wolf is a mercenary, nothing more. You’re letting sentiment cloud your judgment.”

    “No,” Cullen snapped, his jaw tightening. “I’m looking at the evidence—or the lack of it. I left the Order to follow what I believed was right, not to condemn the innocent for survival.” His voice carried a weight of conviction that silenced the room.

    Cassandra opened her mouth to respond but was interrupted by Riley stepping forward. “If you try to take her, you’ll have to go through us,” she said, her voice low and dangerous. “The Rangers won’t stand by and let you throw her into a dungeon.”

    Before Cassandra could respond, the door burst open again. “What happened? Where’s Wolf?” Eshara demanded, her eyes wide as she rushed to Ariana’s side. Her gaze snapped to Solas. “Who are you, and what are you doing to her?”

    Solas didn’t look up from his work. “I’m stabilizing the mark on her hand. If you are her healer, tend to her other injuries. Quickly.”

    Eshara hesitated, then nodded, her hands already moving to check the extent of Ariana’s injuries.

    Cullen watched the scene unfold, a wave of relief washing over him despite the tension. Ariana had people who cared deeply for her, people willing to fight for her. Yet it did little to ease the ache in his chest.

    Cassandra’s voice broke through his thoughts, low and cold. “Commander. A word.” Without waiting for a response, she turned and stormed out.

    Cullen took a deep breath, running a hand over his face. He turned to Riley. “Station your Rangers here. She’s never unguarded. No mages or Templars, either. Cassandra could incapacitate both.”

    Riley gave a curt nod. “Done. Three squads, full rotation. No one touches her.”

    “Varric,” Cullen added, his voice softening, “stay with her. Let me know if anything changes.”

    The dwarf nodded, his focus still on Ariana. “I’m not leaving her side, Commander.”

    Cullen straightened, his resolve hardening once more. He wouldn’t let Ariana face this alone. Not again.

    ~~~

    Cullen stood just outside the room where Ariana lay, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. The door was slightly ajar, and the soft murmur of voices inside—Riley’s clipped commands and Eshara’s calm instructions—was faintly audible. His heart ached at the thought of Ariana lying motionless, her strength reduced to this fragile stillness. He had promised to protect her, and yet here they were.

    He exhaled sharply and turned to leave, intending to meet Cassandra. Before he had taken more than a step, Leliana’s voice, soft and deliberate, came from the shadows.

    “Commander.”

    Cullen stopped, his shoulders tensing as she stepped forward, her expression unreadable in the dim light of the corridor. “Leliana,” he greeted, his tone carefully neutral.

    “You’re on your way to speak with Cassandra,” she said, more a statement than a question.

    “I am,” he replied curtly. “Is there something you need?”

    Leliana’s piercing gaze flicked briefly to the door behind him. “Not from you, but perhaps something you need to hear.”

    Cullen’s brow furrowed, but before he could respond, she continued. “Are you certain everything is alright?”

    His jaw tightened, and he gestured toward the sky visible through a cracked window, its green glow casting an eerie pall over Haven. “Nothing is as it should be, Leliana. That thing is growing. The Temple is destroyed. The Divine is dead. Of course, everything is not alright.”

    Leliana tilted her head slightly, her voice calm but probing. “And yet, amidst all this, you seem… certain.”

    Cullen’s eyes narrowed. “If you have a point, make it.”

    “The White Wolf,” Leliana said simply. “You seem convinced of her innocence. What makes you so certain she is not responsible for the explosion at the Conclave?”

    Cullen’s heart clenched, but he forced his expression to remain stoic. “Her reputation precedes her. I’ve followed her work for years. This… chaos isn’t her style. She believes in protecting those who can’t protect themselves.”

    Leliana arched a delicate brow. “Her work? Or her?”

    Cullen stiffened. “What exactly are you implying?”

    “I imply nothing,” Leliana said smoothly. “I am merely observing that you seem… personally invested in her safety.”

    “She’s not a criminal,” Cullen said, his voice low but firm. “She has risked her life to save others countless times. To accuse her without proof—”

    “Is not something you would allow,” Leliana finished, her lips curving into a faint, knowing smile. “Interesting.”

    He exhaled sharply, his control slipping. “What happened at the Temple was not her doing. I will see to it that she is protected, Leliana—no matter what.”

    Leliana studied him for a moment, her sharp gaze cutting through his defenses. “You care for her,” she said softly, the statement more revelation than accusation.

    Cullen’s breath hitched, but he didn’t deny it. “She—” His voice faltered before he forced himself to continue. “She’s been through enough. I won’t let her suffer for something she didn’t do.”

    Leliana’s smile deepened, but her tone remained gentle. “For what it’s worth, I do not believe the White Wolf is responsible. She was a victim of its chaos, just as we all are. I knew Justinia well and I trust her judgment.” She stepped closer, her voice dropping slightly. “Your secret is safe, Commander.”

    Cullen blinked, his thoughts racing as he realized just how much he had revealed. His mind replayed the exchange, his chest tightening. Leliana knew. Of course, she knew.

    Before he could respond, Leliana turned and began to walk away. “The Seeker may demand answers,” she said over her shoulder, her voice carrying a note of warning. “But do not let her doubt shake you, Commander. Your convictions are what will see us through this.”

    As her footsteps faded, Cullen remained rooted in place, his hand unconsciously brushing the hilt of his sword. His gaze drifted back to the door, his mind a storm of conflicting emotions. Ariana lay beyond that threshold, her fate uncertain, but his resolve crystallized in that moment. He would protect her. He had to.

    Maker, let her survive this. Let her wake. Give us a chance to mend what was broken.

    He turned sharply, heading toward his meeting with Cassandra, the weight of his promise settling heavily on his shoulders. But for the first time in years, his steps felt purposeful—not dictated by orders, but by the strength of his own will.

    ~~~

    Ariana’s eyes snapped open, her breath hitching as an oppressive silence enveloped her. The room swam before her, its edges bleeding into shadow. A faint green light pulsed in her peripheral vision, and the walls seemed to ripple, shifting between the familiar stone of Haven and the jagged, dreamlike spires of the Fade.

    Her heart thundered in her chest as fragmented memories surged forward—flashes of the Conclave, the Divine’s desperate cry, and that searing, blinding light. She sat up abruptly, her fingers clutching at the edge of the cot beneath her. The world wavered, and for a moment, the shadows around her coalesced into monstrous shapes, their whispering voices clawing at her sanity.

    “Wolf,” a voice called softly, steady and familiar. Eshara.

    Ariana turned toward the sound, her vision still hazy. She barely registered the healer’s presence, her hands moving to the glowing mark on her left hand. The sight of it sent a jolt of terror through her.

    “She’s waking up,” Solas murmured, his voice calm but tinged with concern. He stepped closer, his pale eyes fixed on her. “Lady Trevelyan, you are safe, but you must—”

    “Safe?” Ariana hissed, her voice low and strained. “Where is this? What…what happened?” Her eyes darted around the room, catching fleeting glimpses of shadowy figures that faded when she tried to focus.

    “You’re in Haven,” Varric said, stepping forward with his usual deliberate calm, though his expression betrayed his worry. “We found you after the explosion. You’ve been out for hours.”

    Ariana shook her head, her breathing quickening. “No,” she muttered, her voice trembling. “This isn’t real. I saw—” Her words faltered as the flickering shapes at the edges of her vision grew darker, more solid.

    Before anyone could stop her, Ariana swung her legs over the side of the bed, her movements sharp and frantic. She staggered to her feet, swaying slightly as the floor seemed to ripple beneath her. “I need to—” she paused, clutching the edge of a nearby table to steady herself, her breaths coming in short, panicked bursts. “I need to find—”

    “Wolf, listen to me,” Eshara said urgently, taking a cautious step forward. “You’re hurt, but we can help you. Please, sit back down. You need rest.”

    Ariana’s gaze snapped to Eshara, her body tensing as though preparing for a fight. “Stay back,” she warned, her voice sharp and unsteady. “Don’t come near me!”

    Solas frowned but remained still, his tone soothing. “You are caught between the Fade and the waking world. Your confusion is understandable, but you must ground yourself. Focus on the here and now.”

    “I can’t!” Ariana’s voice cracked, her vision blurring as reality slipped further from her grasp. The room seemed to twist and ripple, the faces of those around her distorting like reflections in a broken mirror.

    Varric took a cautious step forward, his hands raised in a placating gesture. “Pup, it’s me. It’s Varric. You know me.”

    Ariana’s breathing grew ragged, her fingers curling into fists. “You’re not real,” she whispered, her voice choked with fear. “None of this is real.”

    The door opened suddenly, and Cullen stepped inside, his expression grim as the chaotic scene unfolded before him. His gaze locked on Ariana, her stance defensive, her eyes wide and unfocused. He recognized the look immediately—the haunted, distant gaze of someone caught in the grip of a nightmare they couldn’t escape.

    “Ariana,” he said firmly, his voice cutting through the commotion.

    Her head snapped toward him, her breath catching. “Cullen?” she whispered, her voice breaking. She took a hesitant step forward, her eyes brimming with tears. “You’re here?”

    “I’m here,” he said softly, his voice steady but filled with urgency. He moved closer, his hands raised to show he wasn’t a threat. “But you need to sit down. You’re hurt. Please, let them help you.”

    Her eyes searched his face, her expression crumbling. “You’re… dead,” she choked out, her voice raw with anguish. “I failed you. I failed everyone.”

    Cullen’s heart clenched, but he kept his tone calm, soothing. “No, Ariana. I’m alive, and so are you. But you’re dying, and if you don’t let them help, you won’t make it.”

    Her knees wobbled, but she stayed upright, shaking her head. “What’s the point if I’ve lost you?”

    Cullen closed the distance between them, taking her trembling left hand in his. His fingers wrapped firmly over hers, covering both the mark and the ring she still wore. The sight of it sent a fresh wave of emotion through him, but he pushed it aside. “You haven’t lost me,” he said, his voice steady and resolute. “I’m right here. And I’m not going anywhere. But I need you to stay with me, Ariana. Promise me you’ll fight. Promise me you’ll stay alive.”

    Her gaze finally steadied on him, the panic in her eyes giving way to exhaustion and a flicker of understanding. “Cullen…” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

    “Promise me,” he urged, his grip tightening just slightly.

    Ariana’s legs gave out as her body surrendered to the strain. Cullen caught her easily, lowering her gently back onto the bed. “I’m here,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I won’t leave you.”

    Her eyes fluttered closed, her breathing uneven but steadying as she slipped back into unconsciousness. Cullen remained by her side, his hand still resting over hers, his jaw tight with determination.

    “Hold on, Ariana,” he whispered. “Just hold on.”

    ~~~

    It took days for Solas to stabilize the mark on Ariana’s hand. Each pulse of its strange magic seemed to expand and contract with the tear in the sky, tethered to the growing rift like a heartbeat. Though her condition was fragile, Cassandra repeatedly demanded she be transferred to a cell, insisting Ariana was a threat. Riley and her Rangers, however, stood firm, guarding her room and refusing access to anyone who didn’t have explicit permission from Cullen, Varric, or Riley herself.

    The tension between Haven’s factions simmered, but for Cullen, the greater weight was Ariana’s precarious state. She had woken only the one time, confused and frightened. Each day her survival seemed less certain.

    Cullen and Riley stood in the War Room, pouring over reports. Their efforts to hold the line against the demons were relentless, with Rangers and soldiers working together to plug gaps in their defenses. Despite the steady onslaught, Cullen admired how Riley commanded the Rangers with a sharpness that reminded him of Ariana. The thought unsettled him—another reminder of her absence.

    A sharp knock interrupted their conversation.

    “Lieutenant Riley?” Elliot appeared at the door, his face hesitant. “She’s here. Asking for Wolf. I didn’t know what to say.”

    Riley’s brow furrowed in confusion before realization dawned. “Isabel,” she whispered to herself. She straightened, her voice firm. “It’s alright, Elliot. I’ll take it from here. Where is she?”

    “Outside the Chantry,” Elliot replied.

    Cullen looked between them, his curiosity evident. “‘She’? Who is ‘she’?”

    Riley sighed, glancing at Cullen before nodding. “You should come with me. You need to meet with her.”

    Together, they stepped outside into the brisk mountain air. Cullen’s eyes quickly found Isabel standing near the Chantry doors, her face lined with worry.

    “You’re here.” Riley greeted, walking toward her. “Good. We need you.”

    Isabel’s eyes searched Riley’s face, her voice trembling. “Where is she, Riley? Is she…?” She couldn’t finish, the weight of the unspoken question clear.

    Before Riley could answer, Cullen stepped into view. Isabel’s gaze shifted to him, her expression softening into relief. “Cullen,” she breathed, a faint smile breaking through her concern.

    “Isabel,” Cullen said, his voice quiet with surprise. He crossed the distance quickly, and she pulled him into a warm embrace.

    “My dear boy,” she said, her tone affectionate but strained. “What are you doing here?”

    Cullen let out a small laugh, though it carried no humor. “I could give the Order no more,” he said simply. “Seeker Pentaghast recruited me to oversee the military operations here.”

    Before Isabel could respond, a small voice called out. “Cullen?”

    Cullen turned, his eyes widening as Emma darted toward him. Dropping to his knees, he caught her in a tight embrace. The girl clung to him fiercely, her voice muffled against his shoulder. “I missed you.”

    Cullen’s chest tightened as he held her. “I missed you too,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion.

    Isabel watched, her expression both tender and clouded with worry. “She missed you,” she said gently. “More than you know.”

    Emma pulled back just enough to look at him, her eyes filled with unshed tears. “Ari said you were too busy to come read stories with me anymore,” she said, her voice trembling. “Did I do something wrong?”

    “No, Emma,” Cullen said, his heart breaking at her words. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I… Kirkwall wasn’t a good place for you. Ari was trying to keep you safe.”

    Emma sniffled, her small face twisting with doubt. “She always cried when I asked about you,” she whispered. “Didn’t she want to visit you?”

    Cullen closed his eyes, guilt washing over him. She always cried when I asked. The weight of his failures pressed harder. “Emma, I promise you—it wasn’t your fault. Or Ari’s. I missed you both more than I can say.”

    Emma studied him for a moment, then gave a small nod. “Can you read me a story tonight?” she asked, her voice hopeful.

    “I will,” he promised, his smile faint but earnest. “And maybe Ari will feel better if you read to her too,” she added innocently.

    Cullen’s throat tightened, and he could only nod, unable to find the words.

    “Go with Elliot, Emma,” Isabel said gently. “Get something to eat.”

    As Emma skipped off, Cullen’s shoulders sagged. “I didn’t realize how much my absence hurt her,” he said quietly.

    Isabel’s gaze was steady, her voice soft but firm. “She’s a child, Cullen. She feels deeply, but she also forgives deeply. You’ll make it right. And Ariana?” She hesitated. “She forgave you long ago. Truly, she never blamed you.”

    The words stung more than they soothed. Cullen nodded, though the guilt only deepened. I failed them both.

    “Cullen…” Isabel’s voice broke through his thoughts, sharper now. “Where is Ariana? Is she alive?”

    Cullen’s face fell, his earlier warmth replaced with a heavy grief. “She’s alive. Barely,” he said, his voice quiet. “The mark—something magical—nearly killed her. Solas is stabilizing it, but Cassandra…” He hesitated. “The Seeker wants her arrested.”

    “What?” Isabel’s voice rose, her disbelief turning to fury. “After everything she’s done—what you’ve done for this cause—she wants to chain her?”

    “I’m doing everything I can to protect her,” Cullen said firmly. “The Rangers are guarding her room, and I’ve given orders to ensure no one touches her. But if Cassandra pushes further…” He trailed off, unable to finish the thought. “I’ll stand between her and anyone who tries to harm her.”

    Isabel studied him for a long moment, her expression softening. “You always were a good man, Cullen,” she said with a faint smile. “Now, take me to her.”

    Cullen nodded and led Isabel toward Ariana’s room, his heart heavy but resolute.