17 Kingsway – 30 Haring 9:29
The journey back through Redcliffe to Lake Calenhad’s docks was quiet, but not peaceful. The calm of the road couldn’t touch the restlessness building in Cullen’s chest. He stole glances at Ariana, noting the subtle shift in her posture as the northern shore came into view. The tension returned to her shoulders, her gaze sharpening as she scanned the docks ahead. She was looking for something—or someone—and he had no doubt it was her brother. He hated the thought of her constantly having to watch her back, never able to relax.
Ariana’s voice broke the silence. “Cullen,” she said, her eyes never leaving the shore, “I need to leave. We both know I cannot linger here…”
Her words hung in the air like a blow he hadn’t braced for, though he’d known they were coming. When she finally turned to face him, he didn’t have the strength to mask his reaction. She caught the flicker of pain in his expression, and a small, bittersweet smile curved her lips. That smile—it did something to him, something he couldn’t quite name. She looked almost… content, as though his wanting her to stay mattered to her in a way that frightened him.
Cullen’s mind raced for a solution, any solution, though he knew none existed. What could he offer her? Safety? Stability? Those were things he could barely promise himself, let alone someone as fiercely independent as Ariana. “Where will you go?” he asked, his voice tighter than he intended.
“Berthold should be back in West Hill in about three or four weeks,” she replied, a faint smile softening her expression. “Crestwood, maybe. That could still be an option.”
Relief and heartache mingled within him. At least she wasn’t planning on disappearing completely—yet the thought of her wandering from one uncertain refuge to the next gnawed at him. How had she become so important to him in so short a time? In truth they’d only known each other for a little over a week. A few days before her brother found her, and this past week with his family. It didn’t make sense, and yet it felt as though she’d always been there, as though something had shifted irreversibly in his world the moment he’d first seen her.
When they reached the docks, they avoided the busier areas, slipping into the shelter of the trees. The path they followed was familiar, leading back to the small clearing where he’d first helped her escape.
“Be careful, please,” he said, his voice low, his hand resting on her shoulder. The words felt inadequate, but they were all he had. He didn’t trust the world she was walking back into. He didn’t trust that he’d be there the next time she needed help. And he didn’t trust himself not to follow if she called for him.
Ariana nodded, her hand rising to cover his, the warmth of her touch grounding him even as he felt her slipping further away. He wanted to say something more, something meaningful that would convince her to stay—if not here, then close enough for him to find her. But when he opened his mouth, the words came out tangled and broken. “If… if you ever decide to leave for somewhere, to finally settle down… just…”
He couldn’t bring himself to finish the thought. He wanted to ask her to write to him, to find a way to stay connected, to promise she’d be safe. But none of it felt like enough. He couldn’t protect her, not truly, not while she was on the run. And yet the idea of her finding a place where she could live freely—without looking over her shoulder—was the only thing he could cling to.
Her reply came steady, a promise wrapped in the certainty of her voice. “I will not leave without telling you. And if I must go somewhere far, you will always know where to find me.”
The weight pressing on his chest eased, though the ache remained. He exhaled slowly, the relief washing over him despite himself.
She stepped closer then, her hand brushing against his cheek with a softness that threatened to undo him. Her lips pressed against his cheek in a kiss so light, so brief, yet it lingered all the same. “Thank you,” she whispered.
It was the same as that night he helped her escape, and yet it felt impossibly different—more deliberate, more personal. It was a thank-you, yes, but it was something else, too.
Before he could say anything more, she turned, her movements resolute yet unhurried, as though she was leaving behind something she didn’t want to let go of. Cullen watched her go, his heart caught in a tangle of longing and helplessness. The trees swallowed her form, and he stood there, rooted to the spot, unable to move until the last rustle of her footsteps faded into the forest.
Only then did he let himself sink against the nearest tree, running a hand through his hair. Maker help him—she was going to break him.
~~~
Ariana pushed open the door to her rented room, the faint creak of the hinges breaking the quiet of the small inn. The room was modest, with a single bed pushed against the wall and a small table near the window. She set her pack down by the foot of the bed, exhaling slowly. It was a place to rest, to lay low, but as she stood there in the silence, it felt hollow. The kind of hollow that wasn’t solved by four walls and a roof.
The next few days passed in a blur. She explored the outskirts of Crestwood, tracing the uneven terrain to familiar spots. The ruins of Caer Bronach had become a particular comfort, its weathered stone walls speaking of stories she could only imagine. She often found herself wandering the old fortress, running her fingers along the cold stone, wondering what it would have been like to defend such a place. It grounded her, gave her something to focus on.
But it never lasted.
Each time she paused to catch her breath, her thoughts drifted back to Cullen. She imagined him walking beside her, his measured steps and quiet humor filling the silence. She could almost hear his voice, the low timbre of it steady and calming. The thought struck a chord so deep it startled her.
“Maker,” she muttered aloud, the sound of her own voice startling against the stillness. “Why am I thinking about him?”
The question lingered, unanswered, as she paced the fortress’s empty halls. It didn’t make sense. Cullen had become important to her in ways she couldn’t quite explain, and the thought unsettled her. It was unreasonable. Irrational. They had barely spent any time together. She could count the days.
Thirteen days, she realized. Why am I counting them?
Her chest tightened with the realization. She hadn’t even meant to keep track, but somehow, the number had carved itself into her thoughts. A part of her tried to dismiss it, to write it off as infatuation, or perhaps the lingering comfort of finding someone kind in the chaos of her life. But another part of her, the part she tried to ignore, whispered that it was something more.
She sat on a low stone wall, her head in her hands, the memories of their last day together flooding back unbidden. The flicker of pain in his eyes when she’d told him she needed to leave. His hand on her shoulder, as if it could hold her in place. The weight of his words, filled with quiet pleading and something she hadn’t dared to name.
Does he feel the same way? The thought struck her with the force of a gale, and she shook her head as if to dislodge it. No. That’s… ridiculous.
And yet, it wouldn’t leave her. She thought of Frederick, her childhood friend, and how he had once confessed his feelings for her. That had made sense. They had grown up together, spent years sharing every joy and hardship. But this? She’d known Cullen for a little over a month. They’d only been in each other’s company for thirteen days. It was absurd to think that such a short time could carry so much weight.
And yet, she thought, staring out at the horizon, here I am, wishing he were here.
Her thoughts drifted again to her plans. Denerim had been her fallback, the place she’d intended to go if things fell apart. Varric had approved it, and she’d reasoned it was a safe enough distance to keep her ahead of Michael. But the more she thought about it, the more the plan unraveled. Denerim was too far to reliably send and receive letters from West Hill. She wouldn’t be able to keep in touch with her father or Varric without great difficulty. The idea of being so disconnected gnawed at her.
But from Crestwood, I can reach both West Hill and Lake Calenhad easily…
The thought settled over her like a weight, both comforting and troubling. It made sense, logistically. Staying here was practical. But as much as she told herself it was about keeping her connections intact, she couldn’t ignore the other reason tugging at her.
It was only a couple of days’ journey to the Circle Tower. Back to Cullen.
Ariana closed her eyes, leaning against the cool stone wall. She wasn’t ready to admit what that meant, not yet. For now, she would stay in Crestwood, convincing herself it was the logical choice. But deep down, she knew better. This wasn’t about practicality. It was about him.
I need to go back, she thought, the realization settling over her like a quiet truth. I need to see him. To figure this out.
With a steadying breath, she stood and made her way back toward the inn. The room she’d rented would serve as a home for now. But her heart wasn’t in Crestwood. Not really. And sooner or later, she would follow it back to the lake.
~~~
Cullen sat at the same corner table where he had first met her. The Spoiled Princess was quiet this evening, the low murmur of conversation and the clink of mugs providing a familiar backdrop. This table had become something of a refuge for him, a place where he could think. Or, more often, hope. Somehow, sitting here made him feel closer to her, as though staying in this spot might bring her back.
Yet part of him told himself he shouldn’t hope. It would be better for her to stay away, to find a place where she could truly be safe, where she wouldn’t have to look over her shoulder every moment of every day. A place where she could rebuild her life, far from danger and chaos. That was what she deserved.
But the thought of her finding that safety—of her leaving—would break him. He couldn’t deny it. The realization unsettled him. He barely knew her. They had spent only a handful of days together, and yet she had become more important to him than almost anyone else he had ever known, aside from his own family.
The night before they left Honnleath, his mother had pulled him aside after everyone had gone to bed. She had a way of seeing through him, of knowing the thoughts he wasn’t ready to admit even to himself.
“Hang on to what you’ve found with her,” she had said, her voice low but firm.
Cullen had shaken his head, smiling faintly. “She’s just a friend, Mother. She’s passing through. That’s all.”
But his mother had given him that knowing smile, the one that had always unnerved him growing up. The one that said he was fooling himself.
“She needs someone to care for her as much as you do, my boy,” she had said. “She has lost everything. And yet, I can see it in the way you look at each other. You both have found your home.”
At the time, Cullen had thought it absurd. A passing connection couldn’t possibly mean so much. But her words had stayed with him, echoing in his mind at the most unexpected moments.
Now, as he sat at the table, his thoughts drifted back to Ariana. He imagined her somewhere out there, traveling the winding roads, her steps careful and her eyes always scanning for danger. The idea that she might be alone, without anyone to lean on, filled him with a quiet ache he couldn’t shake.
The creak of the inn’s door broke him from his thoughts. He glanced up, expecting another traveler or merchant. Instead, a cloaked figure stepped inside, pausing to glance around the room. Cullen’s heart skipped as recognition struck him. It was her.
Gilbert, the tavernkeeper, noticed her too and motioned toward Cullen with a subtle nod. Her gaze followed, and when her eyes met his, a smile spread across her face. Relief washed over him, sharp and overwhelming. He hadn’t realized just how much he’d needed to see her until this moment.
As she began walking toward him, her movements sure and unhurried, Cullen’s chest tightened. His pulse quickened, each beat echoing in his ears. She was here. She had come back. And as her smile grew, his mother’s words surfaced again, unbidden but undeniable.
You both have found your home.
Ariana reached the table and lowered her hood, her hair catching the faint glow of the tavern’s lamps.
“You’re still here,” she said with a teasing smile as she pulled out the chair across from him. “Should I be flattered?”
Cullen managed a smile, his pulse still steadying. “Maybe I just like this table.”
“Of course you do,” she replied lightly, sitting down.
For a moment, they simply looked at each other, the silence filled with unspoken relief. Then Cullen leaned forward, his voice soft but curious. “How was your week?”
Ariana hesitated briefly, then began recounting her travels. She spoke of Crestwood, of its quiet hills and the ruins of Caer Bronach that had captured her attention. There was a wistful quality to her voice as she described wandering the fortress, imagining the battles it had once withstood. But there was something else, too—a flicker of hesitation, as though she wasn’t telling him everything.
“And you?” she asked, turning the question back to him. “What’s been keeping you busy at the Circle?”
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “The usual. Reports, patrols, ensuring the apprentices don’t accidentally set something on fire.” His tone was light, but there was a weariness beneath it that Ariana didn’t miss.
“It doesn’t sound like you’ve had much rest,” she said, concern flickering in her eyes.
Cullen shrugged. “It comes with the duty.”
“And how long do you plan to keep carrying it all on your own?” she asked softly, her gaze steady.
The question caught him off guard, and he looked away, the corner of his mouth twitching into a faint smile. “I’ll manage.”
They fell into a rhythm after that, the conversation weaving between stories of her travels and anecdotes from his work. Hours passed without either of them noticing. The tavern slowly emptied, the patrons filtering out one by one until only the two of them remained. Gilbert, ever the silent observer, let them stay, tending quietly to his duties without interrupting.
She tilted her head, her expression softening. “I… I’m glad I came back.”
His chest tightened at her words, but he kept his tone light. “So am I.”
The conversation slowed as the night deepened, the quiet hum of the tavern wrapping around them like a cocoon. For the first time in days, Cullen felt at ease, as though the world outside could wait just a little longer. Ariana’s presence, her laughter, her quiet determination—it was enough to make him believe that maybe, just maybe, his mother had been right.
~~~
As the days passed, Gilbert, the tavernkeep, had become an unexpected ally in their arrangement, discreetly helping Ariana and Cullen exchange notes to coordinate their meetings. Gilbert seemed endlessly entertained by the two of them, watching the young “friends” with a knowing grin every time they insisted on their strictly platonic relationship. Yet neither Cullen nor Ariana could deny how much those meetings meant to them.
In one of their many conversations, Cullen happened to ask about her past birthdays. Ariana, without much thought, mentioned in passing that her birthday was only a couple of weeks away—5 Harvestmere. She’d be turning seventeen. He took note of it, and while his face remained calm, his mind was already spinning with ideas. She’d spoken so casually about it, as though it were an afterthought, but the admission lingered in his thoughts long after their conversation had ended.
He wanted to make her birthday memorable. She deserved a moment of celebration, something to remind her that she was more than just a girl on the run. But what could he give her? Her life was still so unsettled, and every gift he thought of seemed fleeting or impractical. No, not a gift, he decided. What she really needs is time to relax, to feel like herself.
With a quiet grin, he hatched a plan. He would take the day off and spend it entirely with her, creating a celebration neither of them would forget.
In the meantime, they settled into a sort of rhythm. Ariana would spend two or three days near the lake, then travel back to Crestwood to rest for a few days before returning. Cullen, on his end, found ways to manage his responsibilities at the Circle while ensuring he could see her as often as possible. He mentioned to her that he’d have a few extra shifts but would be free for a day after the 4th. It was a casual excuse, a bit of misdirection to ensure she wouldn’t suspect anything. Ariana, distracted by her own routine, agreed without much thought and carried on with her back-and-forth journeys.
When the night of the 4th arrived, Cullen stood at the bar of The Spoiled Princess, carefully folding a note. He handed it to Gilbert, his expression firm but warm. “Make sure she gets this as soon as she comes in,” he instructed.
Gilbert raised an eyebrow, glancing at the folded paper. “You’re not planning on waiting for her tonight?”
Cullen shook his head, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Not tonight. I have something to take care of before morning.”
The tavernkeep’s knowing grin returned, but he didn’t press further. He tucked the note away in a safe spot and nodded. “She’ll get it. You’ve got my word.”
As Cullen left the tavern, the cool evening air brushing against his face, he allowed himself a brief moment to reflect. Tomorrow wasn’t just about her birthday. It was about giving her something that felt real, something to anchor her in a world that so often felt like it was slipping away. And maybe, in doing so, it would give him something real, too.
Tomorrow will be perfect, he thought. It had to be.
~~~
Later that evening, Ariana pushed open the door of The Spoiled Princess, stepping into the familiar warmth of the tavern. Her eyes instinctively scanned the room, looking for a familiar face among the patrons. Her heart sank slightly when she didn’t see him. Cullen wasn’t here.
She exhaled softly, trying to quell the disappointment that crept into her chest. It was foolish, she told herself. He couldn’t always be here waiting for her. He had his duties, his life at the Circle. And yet, she couldn’t help but wish he was sitting at their usual table, offering that steady smile that seemed to ground her in ways she didn’t quite understand.
Before she could dwell on it further, Gilbert’s voice called out from the bar. “Ariana!”
She turned toward him, and her brow furrowed slightly at the grin plastered across his face. His eyes twinkled with a mischief she’d grown accustomed to, and she tilted her head in curiosity as he waved her over.
“What?” she asked as she approached, already wary of whatever teasing remark he might have prepared.
Instead of speaking, Gilbert reached beneath the counter and pulled out a folded note. His grin widened as he handed it to her, the air of smug satisfaction unmistakable. Ariana raised an eyebrow, taking the note from him cautiously.
“What’s that look about?” she asked, folding her arms and fixing him with a playful glare.
Gilbert shrugged, feigning innocence. “Just read it, lass. I’m only the messenger here.”
Her suspicion deepened, but curiosity quickly won out. She unfolded the note carefully, her heart quickening as she recognized the handwriting:
Ari,
Meet me by the ruins at dawn tomorrow. Bring whatever you might need for the day—and perhaps be ready for anything.
I’ll be waiting.
—Cullen
The moment she read Cullen’s words, a slow smile crept onto her face. She could hear his voice in the phrase be ready for anything, and the mixture of anticipation and excitement it stirred within her was impossible to ignore.
As she folded the note and tucked it away, realization dawned on her. Tomorrow. He remembered my birthday. That’s why he had the day off, why he’d been so insistent about being free after the 4th.
Her chest tightened, a warm, unfamiliar feeling rising within her. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had gone out of their way to make her feel celebrated, to show that she mattered. The thought that Cullen had not only remembered but planned something for her made her heart race in a way she couldn’t quite name.
Gilbert’s voice broke through her thoughts. “Good news, then?” he asked, though his grin suggested he already knew the answer.
Ariana shot him a look but couldn’t suppress her smile. “Maybe.”
He chuckled, leaning on the counter. “Well, you’d best get some rest. You’ll need it if you’re to be ‘ready for anything.’”
She rolled her eyes but laughed softly. “Thanks, Gilbert.”
As she left the bar and climbed the stairs to her room, her thoughts were already spinning with possibilities. She didn’t know what Cullen had planned, but the promise of the day ahead filled her with a sense of excitement she hadn’t felt in years.
Dawn cannot come soon enough, she thought, lying back on the bed with a small, secret smile. For the first time in a long time, she let herself look forward to tomorrow.
~~~
Cullen stood near the ruins, the early morning light casting a soft, golden glow over the ancient stone. He adjusted the straps of his pack for what felt like the hundredth time, pacing slightly as he glanced toward the path. His heart raced in anticipation, the quiet morning amplifying the sound of every beat. He’d planned this day carefully, every detail meant to bring her some measure of joy, but now, with the moment upon him, doubt began to creep in.
What if she doesn’t enjoy it? What if I’ve misread this entirely?
The thought gnawed at him, but before it could take root, the sound of footsteps reached his ears. He turned, catching sight of her approaching figure, and the doubts melted away. She was here. She had come.
Ariana stepped into the clearing, her eyes scanning the ruins with quiet curiosity. Cullen watched her, unable to suppress the small smile tugging at his lips. She moved with such a natural grace, yet there was a guardedness to her, a careful way she carried herself as though always preparing for the worst. He wanted, more than anything, to give her a day where she didn’t have to look over her shoulder.
As she stepped further into the ruins, her brow furrowed slightly. Looking for me, he realized, and a mischievous idea struck him. Silently, he closed the distance between them. Before she could notice, his arms wrapped around her from behind, pulling her close. She gasped, but her tension eased immediately as he said, his voice low and teasing, “Caught you again, my lady. You must be slipping around me.”
Her laughter was like sunlight breaking through clouds, warm and bright. “I would not be so confident, Ser Cullen,” she shot back, slipping from his grasp with an agility that left him impressed. Spinning to face him, her eyes sparkled with playful defiance.
Cullen grinned, his chest tightening at the sight of her. Without a word, he bent down to retrieve the wooden training swords he’d hidden earlier, tossing one her way. She caught it effortlessly, and the way she twirled it with practiced ease only deepened his admiration.
“Careful now,” she said, smirking. “I have no intention of going easy on you.”
He couldn’t hold back a laugh. “I’d be disappointed if you did.”
The sparring match that followed was exhilarating for both of them, though Cullen quickly realized she was better trained than he had expected. Ariana moved with sharp precision, her strikes calculated and swift, forcing Cullen to stay on his guard. He could see the marks of hard-earned experience in the way she shifted her weight, anticipating his movements.
Yet, for all her skill, Cullen had years of disciplined training on his side. He parried her first flurry of attacks with practiced ease, stepping lightly out of reach before countering with a measured strike that she barely blocked in time.
“You’re faster than I expected,” he remarked, his voice laced with genuine admiration.
Ariana smirked, feinting left before striking low. “I’ve had good teachers.”
“And you’ve listened well,” Cullen said as he parried her strike and pressed forward, forcing her to retreat a few steps.
The match continued, their movements a fluid exchange of attack and defense. Ariana landed a solid blow against his side during one round, earning a genuine laugh from Cullen as he rubbed the spot. “Alright,” he admitted, “that was well done.”
But as the rounds progressed, Cullen’s superior training began to show. He anticipated her feints more often than not, countering with strikes that she struggled to deflect. Even so, she never stopped pressing him, her determination shining through every swing of her blade.
By the time they paused for breath, Cullen had claimed more victories than she had, though he was careful not to gloat. Instead, he looked at her with an expression of quiet admiration. “You’re relentless,” he said, his tone filled with respect. “Most of the recruits I’ve trained with would’ve yielded long before now.”
Ariana grinned, leaning on the wooden sword as she caught her breath. “None of them were me.”
Cullen chuckled, shaking his head. “Fair point.”
The tension between them eased into something lighter as they stood there, both winded but smiling. The admiration in Cullen’s gaze lingered, though he kept his thoughts to himself. She had surprised him today, not just with her skill but with the way she approached each round—with determination and an unshakable confidence that he couldn’t help but admire.
Around mid-morning, Cullen set down a blanket near the edge of the lake, the morning sun dancing across the water, and invited her to sit. “A victory feast,” he teased, as he unpacked a spread of fruit, bread, and cheeses he’d prepared, pouring them each a drink.
She laughed, the sound filling the space between them. “You’re far too good at this.”
“At what?”
“Making me forget everything else,” she said softly, her gaze meeting his. The vulnerability in her words struck him, and he felt a surge of determination to give her a day worth remembering.
As they ate, their conversation flowed easily. She told him about her travels, her fascination with ruins like these, and the stories they seemed to hold. He listened intently, asking questions that brought out her enthusiasm. Her laughter came more freely as the morning stretched into afternoon.
Finally, he leaned over to his bag, pulling out the books he’d carefully chosen. “These are for you,” he said, his voice soft but steady.
Her eyes widened as she took the first volume, her fingers reverent as they traced the worn leather binding. “Cullen… I can’t believe you found these.”
“I remembered what you said,” he replied. “About the constellations, the Evanuris, and… well, I thought these might interest you.”
She flipped through the pages, her excitement palpable. When she found the constellation Visus on the cover of one, her breath hitched. “You remembered,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.
He smiled, warmth spreading through him. “Every word.”
Watching her dive into the books, her curiosity and intelligence on full display, was mesmerizing. She read passages aloud, sparking conversations about myths and legends. When the book on the Evanuris mentioned Fen’Harel, she couldn’t resist exploring the ruins again, searching for symbols that matched the text. Cullen followed, content to watch her in her element, her energy infectious.
By sunset, they had returned to the lakeside. Cullen spread out another blanket, the sky above them shifting into shades of violet and gold. They pointed out constellations as the stars emerged, laughing as they invented their own. The quiet joy of the day settled over them, a warmth that lingered as twilight deepened.
Lying side by side, Ariana traced the constellation Visus in the sky. Her gaze shifted to him, her eyes bright with meaning. He didn’t ask what she was thinking; he didn’t need to.
As the night stretched on, their laughter softened, replaced by the quiet hum of the lake and the gentle glow of moonlight. Cullen felt her head rest against his shoulder, her hand curling gently in his. The steady rhythm of her breathing matched his own, and for the first time in a long while, the world felt still.
This, he thought as he gazed at the stars above, is what home feels like.
~~~
The path from Lake Calenhad to West Hill was familiar to Ariana now, the winding roads and scattered groves offering a mix of solitude and reflection. The early morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of damp earth and wildflowers as she adjusted her pack and set a steady pace. Her thoughts, however, were far from the road ahead.
Her birthday had been… perfect. For all the grand celebrations she’d endured in Ostwick, the extravagant dinners and formal affairs that had felt more like performances than moments of joy, this was the first time she truly felt seen. Cullen had given her something no one else ever had: a sense of safety, of being valued not for who she was supposed to be but for who she was.
The way he had remembered everything—from her fascination with constellations to the stories she had shared in passing—left her heart full and her mind spinning. There had been no lavish gifts, but the thoughtfulness in his actions had been worth more than all the silks and jewels she’d been showered with in her past.
She could still feel the weight of his shoulder beneath her head, the steady rise and fall of his breathing as they drifted off to sleep under the stars. The safety she had felt in that moment was unlike anything she had ever known. With Frederick, her best friend since childhood, there had been countless times they had fallen asleep together after a long day of exploring or simply lounging beneath the trees. But it had never felt like this. This was different—deeper, more intimate in a way she couldn’t quite articulate.
Cullen’s presence felt like a shield she hadn’t realized she’d needed. She’d always been the one to protect herself, to stay on guard, but with him, it was as if she could finally let go. And that terrified her as much as it thrilled her.
The thought of how Varric would take her decision to remain in Crestwood loomed over her as she approached a fork in the road. She planned to send word to him from West Hill, explaining that Denerim was too far, Lothering too conspicuous. Crestwood offered the right balance of anonymity and proximity. But deep down, she knew the truth wasn’t so practical. She was staying for Cullen.
Varric would see through her reasoning immediately. He always did. His letters had been filled with warnings and well-meaning jabs, urging her to stay cautious. After all, Michael finding her and attempting to drag her back to Ostwick had been a near disaster. She knew he’d argue that staying close to the Circle was too great a risk, but the thought of leaving now… she couldn’t bring herself to do it.
As the sun climbed higher, Ariana’s trek was interrupted by a distant shout. She froze, her hand instinctively moving to the hilt of her dagger. The road ahead curved sharply, obscured by dense trees, but the unmistakable sound of voices carried through the stillness. Bandits.
Her pulse quickened as she scanned her surroundings. The trees to her left provided cover, and she slipped into their shadows, moving with practiced quiet. From her vantage point, she spotted a group of three men blocking the road, their weapons drawn and their demeanor threatening. A merchant’s cart was halted before them, its owner pleading while one of the bandits rifled through a sack of goods.
Not my fight, she told herself, crouching lower behind a thicket. But even as the thought formed, her instincts screamed otherwise. The merchant’s desperation was evident, his voice trembling as he tried to reason with the men. Ariana’s grip tightened on her dagger.
Instead of rushing in, she took a moment to assess the situation. The bandits looked disorganized, their movements clumsy and inexperienced. Two of them stood close together near the cart, while the third, the one rifling through the merchant’s goods, was slightly apart from the others. Nearby, a small cluster of loose stones sat on the edge of the path.
An idea formed. She picked up one of the stones and hurled it into the underbrush on the opposite side of the road. The sound of rustling leaves and a dull thud caught the bandits’ attention.
“What was that?” one of them asked, turning toward the noise.
“Probably nothing,” another grunted, but his grip on his sword tightened.
“Go check it out,” the first one ordered the third, the one near the cart.
As the third bandit moved toward the sound, Ariana slipped closer to the road. Staying low, she waited until he was just out of sight of the others before striking. A quick, silent blow to the back of his head with the hilt of her dagger sent him crumpling to the ground. She dragged him into the shadows before returning her attention to the remaining two.
The bandits by the cart were arguing now, their focus split between the merchant and the imagined threat in the woods. Ariana picked up another stone and tossed it further down the road, creating another distraction. This time, both bandits turned their backs to the cart, their attention fully on the noise.
Taking advantage of their distraction, Ariana moved swiftly. She darted toward the nearest bandit, her dagger slicing through the strap of his scabbard to disarm him before delivering a precise kick to the back of his knee. He fell with a grunt, and before the other could react, Ariana had her blade at his throat.
“Drop it,” she said evenly, her voice low and commanding.
The remaining bandit hesitated, his eyes darting between her and his weapon. Finally, he let it fall to the ground, raising his hands in surrender.
“Take your friend and go,” she ordered, her tone sharp. “And if I see you on this road again, you won’t be walking away.”
The bandit scrambled to comply, helping his companion to his feet before they stumbled into the trees, leaving the merchant’s cart untouched.
Ariana exhaled, the tension in her body easing as she turned to the merchant. “You should go,” she said, her tone softer now. “Quickly.”
The merchant nodded fervently, gathering his goods and urging his horse forward. As the cart disappeared down the road, Ariana lingered for a moment, ensuring the bandits didn’t return. Satisfied, she slipped back into the trees and continued her journey, her pulse still racing.
By the time she reached West Hill, the sun was beginning to set, casting the village in warm hues of orange and gold. She made her way to the inn, the familiar hum of voices and clinking glasses greeting her as she stepped inside. Settling at a quiet corner table, she pulled out a sheet of parchment and began to write.
Varric,
I’ve decided to stay in Crestwood for now. It’s quiet, out of the way, and close enough to West Hill for me to send word regularly. Denerim is too far, and Lothering… well, it’s not the right fit. This feels like the right choice.
I know you’ll have thoughts, as always. But trust me on this. I’ll keep my head down and stay safe. Besides, I’m not ready to leave just yet.
She hesitated, the pen hovering over the parchment. What else could she say without revealing too much? With a small sigh, she added a simple closing line.
Thank you for everything.
-Ariana
~~~
As usual, Ariana met Cullen by the Elven ruins, their unofficial meeting place. It had become a haven of sorts—a quiet, secluded spot where they could escape the world’s expectations and simply exist. Ariana leaned against a weathered stone, her arms crossed as she gazed at the shimmering lake below.
“Something on your mind?” Cullen asked, though his tone carried more than curiosity. There was an edge of concern as he watched her.
“Just thinking,” she replied, her voice tinged with thoughtfulness. “For all the running I’ve done, all the uncertainty… I wouldn’t trade these days for anything.” She tilted her head back against the stone, closing her eyes briefly.
Cullen’s expression softened, but her quiet tone lingered with him. “I’m glad,” he said sincerely, though his gaze searched her face. After a pause, he ventured, “You deserve moments like this.”
She opened her eyes, her lips curving into a faint smile. “And you’ve been a big part of that. I’m not sure what I would have done without you.” Her voice grew quieter, a vulnerability slipping through that made his chest tighten.
The warmth of her words struck him, but so did the unspoken weight behind them. Clearing his throat, Cullen shifted slightly. “Is that all that’s on your mind?” he pressed gently. “You’ve seemed quiet since you got back. Did something happen in West Hill?”
Ariana hesitated, her gaze flicking to the lake. “There was… a small altercation on the road,” she admitted. “A merchant was being harassed by some bandits. Three of them. They weren’t very organized, but it still…”
Cullen’s shoulders stiffened, his expression sharpening. “Are you telling me you took on three bandits?”
“I had the element of surprise,” she replied quickly, trying to downplay it. “I used the terrain to my advantage, caused a few distractions. It wasn’t as reckless as it sounds.”
But Cullen’s jaw tightened, and his arms crossed over his chest as he processed her words. “Ari, you’re skilled, but that’s dangerous,” he said, his voice low with tension. “What if something had gone wrong?”
Her expression didn’t waver, though her voice softened. “I couldn’t just leave him,” she said simply. “He was defenseless. I had to do something.”
Cullen exhaled sharply, the sound weighted with frustration and worry. He looked at her, his eyes holding both admiration and a growing determination. “I’ve been thinking,” he said after a long pause, his tone steadier now. “Would you be interested in becoming my sparring partner? Training, I mean.”
Ariana blinked, her surprise evident. “You want to train me?”
He nodded, though his expression remained serious. “You’re skilled, but from what I’ve seen, there’s room to refine your technique. Templars are trained to fight all kinds of opponents, but… most of my sparring partners aren’t as fast as you. It would be good practice for both of us.”
Ariana’s initial surprise gave way to a grin. “So, you’re saying you need me to keep you sharp?”
Cullen allowed a faint smile, shaking his head. “Something like that,” he admitted. Then his expression grew more intent. “But more importantly, I want to know you can keep yourself safe. You’ve done well so far, but if there’s anything I can teach you… it would give me some peace of mind.”
Her grin softened into something warmer, and she tilted her head slightly. “You mean how to avoid getting caught by Templars again?” she teased lightly before her tone turned sincere. “I’d like that, Cullen. Really. I can’t think of a better teacher.”
Her words caught him off guard, but he managed to nod, feeling the knot of worry in his chest ease slightly. “Then we’ll start tomorrow,” he said firmly.
Their first session took place the next morning in a quiet clearing near the ruins. Cullen had brought wooden training swords and a few supplies, arranging them methodically while Ariana watched nearby. Her excitement was palpable, her movements filled with determination.
“Where would you like to start?” she asked, her tone eager.
“With your stance,” he replied, motioning for her to stand before him. “It’s the foundation of everything. Even the best strikes fail if your balance is off.”
She adjusted her feet, mimicking the stance she’d been taught by her father, refined by Varric. Cullen circled her, his sharp gaze analyzing every detail. Gently, he nudged her left foot outward with his boot.
Ariana was enjoying this side of Cullen. The well-trained, devoted Templar. The man who had spent years honing his skills. He was focused and skilled.
“Better,” he said, his voice encouraging. “Now, let’s see your guard.”
Ariana raised the wooden blade, her grip firm. Cullen stepped closer, adjusting her posture with careful precision. His touch lingered briefly on her arm as he guided it into position. “Good,” he said. “Keep your movements tight. Wide swings leave you vulnerable.”
She couldn’t ignore the way her heart fluttered at his proximity. There was something about his focus, his quiet confidence, that made her feel both at ease and electrified. More than once, their eyes met as he adjusted her form, and she quickly turned her attention back to the training, hoping he didn’t notice her distraction.
They spent the better part of an hour running through drills, Cullen correcting her form and offering pointers. Despite the structured nature of the session, their banter lightened the mood.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” she teased after dodging one of his strikes with surprising agility.
“I’ll admit, it’s nice to have a challenge,” he replied, a grin tugging at his lips. “But don’t get too confident. We’re just getting started.”
As the weeks passed, their sparring sessions became a regular part of Ariana’s visits. Cullen’s training pushed her limits, refining her technique and teaching her to anticipate attacks more effectively. He admired her quick learning and tenacity, though he was careful not to push her too hard.
For Ariana, the sessions were more than just a chance to improve. She trusted Cullen, not just with her safety but with the vulnerabilities that came with learning. His patience and encouragement meant more to her than she could express, and each session deepened the bond they shared.
One afternoon, after an especially intense bout that ended with her flat on her back, Cullen extended a hand to help her up. She took it, breathless but smiling. “You’re relentless,” she said, shaking her head. “Do you know that?”
“I could say the same about you,” he replied, pulling her to her feet. “But that’s a good thing. You’re stronger than you think.”
Her smile lingered, her chest tightening at the sincerity in his voice. “Thank you, Cullen. For this. For everything.”
He nodded, his expression softening. “Always.”
~~~
Over the next few months, Ariana settled into a steady rhythm, her life in Ferelden moving at a pace both comforting and precarious. She spent two or three days in Crestwood, keeping a low profile, before making her way to Lake Calenhad to be close to Cullen. Each month, she set aside a week for a journey to West Hill, sending and receiving packages and letters.
Varric’s business dealings in Ferelden increased steadily, and in true Varric fashion, he “hired” her for small tasks, offering a plausible cover for his continued help. Of course, he maintained the charade that it was purely business, though Ariana saw right through him. He never could fool her, but she appreciated the gesture nonetheless.
Through Varric, she corresponded with her father, using Isabel, who had helped her flee Ostwick, as an intermediary. Isabel’s unassuming role provided the perfect cover; no one would suspect her involvement in anything beyond household matters. Ariana’s father’s letters brought comfort, a reminder of the life she’d left behind, and while she was careful not to mention Cullen by name, she was more candid about her experiences in Ferelden. She feared her father would see Cullen as a reckless infatuation, a young girl in over her head with a Templar she barely knew. In truth, she was not even sure what to call what lay between them—friendship, companionship, something unspoken yet deeper than either wanted to acknowledge.
Her letters to Varric, however, were laced with humor, dropping hints about a “certain handsome Templar.” She emphasized it was nothing serious, that she was well aware of her situation and wasn’t throwing herself headlong into romance. Still, she kept Cullen’s name private, knowing Varric too well; he would mobilize his network to investigate and likely try to talk her out of it, reasoning she could never afford such risks. Perhaps he would be right. But as weeks turned to months, she found nothing could dissuade her from seeing Cullen again and again.
As for Ariana and Cullen, they settled into their own unspoken routine, a quiet understanding that grew in the spaces between words. While neither openly moved beyond the boundaries of friendship, there was an unmistakable closeness. The occasional soft kiss on the cheek or gentle touch of her hand in his spoke of a bond far deeper than mere companionship. Yet, nothing more ever passed between them, and their nights stargazing remained the one place they could simply exist, wrapped in each other’s arms under the expanse of stars, finding comfort and peace in that silent, shared connection.