in the suffering
I fell behind yesterday, but I'm back with part 6 of the Avexis-as-Cole AU for @tranquilweek! As Haven falls and the Inquisition makes their escape, both Cadash and Avexis make sacrifices to save those they love.
read it on ao3 here!
Avexis & Female Cadash | Rated T | 2260 words | cw: self-sacrifice, canon-typical violence, minor fantasy racism
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“Forces approaching! To arms!”
Alarm bells rang out over Haven, giving Avexis such a fright that she spilled her half-drunk ale out onto the snow. The pleasant buzz it had given her faded away as she and Varric stared out beyond the wall in horror. She could just barely see the tiny specks that must be the attackers—but she did not need to see them to feel their agony through the Fade. A horribly familiar agony.
It’s them.
“Who would—“ Varric started.
“The Templars,” Avexis cut him off, grabbing her staff and standing to run. “It’s the Templars we couldn’t save.”
Cadash was already at the gate when they arrived, listening to the commander’s assessment.
“Under what banner?”
“None—“
“It’s the Templars,” Avexis interrupted, breathless. “It’s the Templars we couldn’t save at Therinfall.”
“How could you possibly know that?” Cullen asked the question with anger, but Avexis saw the grief and fear that it disguised. She pressed her palm to her chest.
“I know,” she said, answering his question, but looking imploringly at Cadash. “Trust me.”
Cadash nodded. “I do. Cullen, give me a plan.”
“Haven is no fortress…”
Avexis stared at the village gate. The song was stronger, sickly sweet and singing its siren call. At Therinfall, she’d been able to see it as a sickness, to follow the growth of it within and pull it out by the roots. Now, as the Templars crested over the hill, their presence in the Fade was indistinguishable from the red lyrium in their veins.
They're lost , she thought, regret and despair choking her throat. Well, maybe not. Maybe if—
“Avexis, go with Blackwall—“
She snapped back to attention. “No! Please—if you’re going out there, I want to go too.”
Despite the care she had for her companions, Cadash was a pragmatic leader, and she knew how to make hard decisions. Her face was like stone, now. “No. It’s dangerous, and you’re still recovering. We can’t be carrying you.”
“You won’t be,” Avexis insisted. “I can hear their pain—it’s overwhelming. Let me help.”
“We’re not going out there to help them.” Cadash’s words were blunt, but it was a tired hand that ran down the short length of her braid. “If that’s what you’re thinking—“
“It’s not, not like that. I know you’re going to kill them—but the lyrium is rooted so deep, at this point a quick death is the only help they’ll get.”
“Maker’s breath,” swore Cullen, “That’s—Herald, we don’t have time for this. You must decide.”
Cadash studied Avexis’ determined face for just another breath. “Fine. You’re with me—Sera, with Blackwall, get people to the Chantry. And Avexis—“ she added, tossing the words over her shoulder as she turned. “If I tell you to run, to leave, you do it. Heard?”
Heart beating frantically against her ribcage, Avexis withdrew her dagger and nodded. “Heard.”
-
The dragon’s breath was still hot on the back of their necks as they ran through the gates. Haven was burning. Her people were dying.
“We have to help them,” Cadash shouted, running to a cabin nearly engulfed in flames. “Dorian—“
A well placed bolt cleared the debris, and Seggrit fled to safety as they faced a wave of red Templars that had broken through the outer wall. Bull broke through the tavern door and they rushed in to help Flissa—but Avexis froze. She cocked her head and caught the faintest, sobbing cry. She knew that voice.
“Minaeve,” she whispered. Fear gripped her, and she bolted, ignoring Cadash’s shout as she took the steps to the apothecary’s cabin two at a time.
Both the researcher and Adan were laid out prone, too injured to stand under their own power. In the middle of the clearing sat a number of clay pots that Avexis immediately recognized—explosives, ostensibly for Haven’s defense.
“The pots—“ Adan wheezed.
“I know,” Avexis knelt by Minaeve and pulled her arm over her shoulders so that they could stand. “But as long as—“
As long as there’s no active fire, she was about to say. But before she could get the words out, the dragon swooped above them with a vicious screech and with one horrible breath, set the cabins aflame.
“Andraste’s bloody tits,” Avexis hissed. Minaeve pushed at her shoulder.
“Leave me! You have to get to Adan, he’s too close to the pots, he’ll die!”
Avexis shook her head, clinging stubbornly to Minaeve’s hip and shuffling them closer to the Chantry. “I’m not leaving you. You—you—“
How could she explain? They were hardly the closest of friends—Avexis’ magic was too volatile for Minaeve to really trust her. But the researcher had done something no one else had bothered to do.
“You saved them,” Avexis managed, panting as her muscles groaned under Minaeve’s weight. “Saw them, when no one else did. Someone should save you, this time.”
Minaeve’s eyes flitted to the brand that still marred Avexis’ forehead, though it no longer kept her from the Fade. “I—thank you.”
“We’re far enough, I think,” Avexis said after a few more paces. She lowered Minaeve into a snowbank and looked back. Adan was still struggling, trying fruitlessly to move his broken legs and escape the blast radius.
“He’ll never make it—“ Minaeve began, but Avexis was already gone. She ignored the protest of her lungs as she sprinted back to Adan. But where it had been easy to support Minaeve, Adan was broader and heavier than both of the elves. To boot, he could offer no assistance with his legs as they were. The fire was spreading perilously close to the explosive barrels.
“Get out, girl,” Adan snapped. “Don’t both of us need to die!”
“No, no, we can make it—“
“We can’t—“
Their bickering had given the flames just enough time. Time that seemed to slow as Avexis watched in horror, unable to close her eyes the way Adan had. The trail of fire licked at the open lid of the nearest pot—
And extinguished with a hiss. An arrow, shot into the ground, sprayed up snow that doused the flame. Avexis blinked, mind not quite caught up to her eyes. She looked up and saw Cadash at the top of the stairs, bow at her side and murder in her eyes.
The fire was still coming, though—they needed to move. The dwarf came ‘round to Adan’s other side and between the two of them they carried the apothecary toward Minaeve.
“If we’re both alive in a few hours,” Cadash grunted, taking Adan’s full weight so that Avexis could help Minaeve the rest of the way to the Chantry, “we will have words.”
The mood inside the Chantry was dark, but so powerful was the holy atmosphere that everyone’s terror took on hushed tones. By the time Avexis saw Minaeve to the healers and returned, Cadash and the commander were locked in an irate stare. Then, Cadash caught sight of Avexis, who winced.
“That was the stupidest thing you could have done—“
“It was for a good reason!”
“It was still stupid,” Cadash scowled. “And it’s only the lack of time that’s keeping me from ripping you a new one.”
That was as good as forgiven, Avexis knew, though she couldn’t quite summon a smile. “What’s the plan?”
Cadash’s gaze darted to the commander and Avexis nearly missed the barest shake of her head. Cullen’s frown deepened.
“Roderick knows a way out,” Cadash said, gesturing to the brother who had been such a pest. There was a sister with him, wiping his clammy brow, but his skin was pale as only a dying man’s was. “He’s hurt, but he’s the only one who knows. I need you—” she caught Avexis firmly by the elbows “—to go with him. Help him lead the way. It’s the only chance anyone has of surviving this.”
Avexis nodded, already moving to take the sister’s place at Roderick’s side. “And what about you?”
Torchlight glinted off Cadash’s silver tooth as she grinned. “Don’t worry about me,” she said. “Just go.”
The pilgrimage path was meant to be walked in the summer for a reason, and it was hard going. But Roderick’s eye was keen, even as his life drained away with each step. He pointed out the landmarks, leaning heavily on Avexis as they went. She held out a potion—it would do little more than ease his pain, but the less pain he felt, the farther he could go before his body gave up completely.
Eventually, the last of the refugees—for what else could they be called, now—were out of the Chantry. Roderick, Avexis, and the advance group of scouts were high up on the mountainside when the call came from the commander.
“We’re clear! Fire the signal!”
An archer drew back his bow and a mage set the tip of his arrow ablaze. As it streaked up into the inky blackness, Avexis caught the commander’s eye.
“Where is she?” she asked, adjusting her grip around Roderick. Cullen just stared at her with pity, and grief, and shame. Realization sank cold over Avexis.
“No—no—“ she cried. She struggled for her tenuous control, biting hard on her tongue to keep her mind her own. But the Fade around them bent beneath her anguish—her anger—and she knew that she would not be able to hold on. Blood-spattered gauntlets caught her by the shoulders.
“She didn’t want to—but it was the only way,” Cullen said grimly, and Avexis appreciated the attempt at soothing, even as it failed to work. “I’m sorry.”
There was a whistling in the air, growing louder, and then a giant boulder struck the mountainside below them. The Frostbacks rumbled and belched forth an avalanche; snow and ice and rocks thundered down to bury Haven.
To bury Cadash.
“No!” Avexis cried again. Her cheeks were wet with tears, and she was undoubtedly jarring Roderick’s injury with her sobs, but she couldn’t help it. “She can’t—“
“Maker,” Cullen murmured. “Seat her by Your side in death.”
She wouldn’t want that, Avexis thought, bitter through her sorrow. Cadash would have wanted to be returned to the Stone. But the Chantry didn’t care about that. The Inquisition didn’t care about that. They didn’t care about her.
They never had.
“We need to move!” The commander was saying, striding forward decisively. “Clear these rocks, cut back that brush! We can’t stay here.”
“I’m sorry, child.” Roderick coughed, ragged and wet from the blood in his lungs. “She was…well. Her heart was true, and whoever sent her to us knew exactly what we needed.”
Avexis ground her teeth together. It had been Cadash’s last wish for her to keep Roderick alive long enough to save everyone else. That meant she absolutely could not stab him for his asinine comforts.
She stared down at the snow-covered village. What if she had survived? Cadash had stupid luck—if anyone could live through an avalanche, it was her. But she would be injured, surely, and alone. Alone, she would die as surely as if she’d been buried like Haven.
Avexis closed her eyes.
When they weren’t in the Fade, she couldn’t talk to Cole directly. She felt his presence in her soul, or around her heart, particularly when stress and emotion overtook her mind. But she knew that he could hear her, in a way, or at least understand her intention.
You could go to her, help her.
Hesitation, but no denial. And Avexis knew what gave him pause.
You would have to go as you. You would have to leave me.
Affirmation seeped through her. Avexis took a long, slow breath.
The cure for Tranquility was still shrouded in mystery; they knew so little about the specifics of Pharamond’s ritual, or how to apply it safely. But what they did know was that the spirit wasn’t meant to stay with the mage once Tranquility was reversed. In theory, they would touch the mage’s mind, and with the spirit healer’s help, their connection to the Fade would be restored, and the spirit returned to their realm.
Whatever Cole had done, whatever Regalyan had done, it had been off the cuff. Not wrong, really, but not quite right, either. And it meant that Cole had to stay with her for it to stick.
Avexis swallowed. There was no choice, really. Cadash had been prepared to give her life to make sure they survived. She deserved at least one person who was willing to do the same.
Go to her.
The warm comfort that was Cole fretted within her, but Avexis doubled down, thinking her stern determination at him.
Go. To. Her. Find her, and save her. We’re already safe—she needs you now more than I do. So go.
He knew she was right, but his apology was sorrow that lingered in her chest as he slipped through whatever avenue of the Fade only spirits could navigate.
And then it was gone.
She blinked, wiping away the tears on her cheeks, lest they give her a chill and set sickness in her bones. It would be impractical to fall ill when they all needed their strength to survive the mountains. The scouts had cleared the path as Roderick indicated, and Avexis straightened, adjusting her grip on his side for more security.
“Let us go, Chancellor,” she said flatly, voice utterly devoid of the agony from only a moment ago. His brow furrowed, confused. “We must see these people to safety.”
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