Chapter Text
Ava's stomach twisted. She had witnessed this scene countless times through a screen. But then the focus had been on getting to the objective, on meeting mother Giselle. Now the gentle woman was practically invisible. The path to her was littered with pain and suffering. There had been calm but curious music in the game, setting the mood, adding to the hopeful excitement. There was no music now. So there was nothing to mask the sounds.
Ava could hear flesh ripping and coughs that gurgled with blood. The sound of desperate cries escaped the fatally wounded. They cried for water, for warmth, for the faces of their loved ones and all to often for the sweet release of death.
She shuddered under the bright morning sun. She could barely feel the hand that started to touch her shoulder. She was numb.
"Are you alright?" Ava looked into Solas’ confusingly brilliant eyes and felt such a surge of conflicting emotions she wanted to scream.
How many people had he killed? And what did he feel for these poor souls? Where they nothing more than pale imitations for him, barely worth his pity? All of this must be simply boring for him. An inconvenience. That was what all of Thedas was now for him, wasn't it? A mistake.
But behind the parade of insults, the twisted hate, she felt... affection. Love was too strong of a word, but what she felt went far beyond a simple crush. In a way, she knew him, knew aspects of him he hadn't even yet discovered. Defended him through the night in chats and forums. All the fanfiction she had read had offered her some short moments of giddiness. He hadn't been real then. A hobby, maybe even a guilty pleasure she had indulged in. But he hadn't been real. She couldn't actually love him. That would be crazy. But seeing him now before her... she could. It might happen. But it couldn't. It was more than dangerous. She knew he wouldn't spare the world, not even for Lavellan. So she buried the thoughts of her infatuation and chose to focus on the mission. What was it he had said?
Harden your heart to a cutting edge.
She would do that. And ironically, he was the first one she would cut.
"I'm fine," she grumbled and picked up her pace to join Cassandra, leaving his hand to fall off her shoulder. She tried not to focus on the warmth it had still left behind. The steps were few and not really steep, but the closer they got to the sisters, the more the smell of blood and decay drowned out the fresh nature's breeze until all that seemed to be left was the sick stench of rotting flesh.
She could see mother Giselle, her warm face peeking out from under the Chantry robes. When her eyes met Ava's she smiled. So motherly, so protecting and full of care. For a moment, Ava felt a glimmer of hope.