At Your Side (A Dragon Age fanfiction)

Substance

It was entirely too cold to be out hunting insane elves with potentially deadly Qunari gas formulas, Hawke thought. Next time she had a choice, she thought maybe she'd be an accountant, or some other job where she could stay inside and keep warm. "Isabela, where did you say this elf was holed up?"

"It should be around here somewhere. My informant was hard to understand—he had his mouth full at the time." Isabela glanced sideways at Hawke and smirked.

"Time for another visit to Anders's clinic, Rivaini?" Varric asked.

"I'll have you know, that was only the once!"

"What does Isabela's informant overeating have to do with Isabela needing healing?" Merrill asked. "Did I miss something?"

"Nothing important, Kitten," Isabela said, putting an arm around the mage's shoulders.

Hawke and Varric exchanged an amused glance.

They heard a commotion in an alley ahead of them, and Hawke lengthened her stride. People poured from the alley, coughing and wheezing, and sounds of shouting and the clang of weaponry came from inside the little warren of narrow alleys that opened on the larger one. Hawke recognized Guardsman Maecon, a generally unflappable type, and one on whom Aveline relied heavily. He looked pretty flapped right now, his eyes wide and his uniform in disarray.

"Guardsman!" Hawke said sharply.

He looked at her blankly for a moment, then his eyes cleared. "Serah Hawke! This is a nightmare. Something about the air in that alley— That damned air! People are going crazy in there."

"Get hold of yourself." She looked at Varric. "Thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Javaris Tintop telling the truth? Will wonders never cease."

"Exactly. Let's go." Hawke moved to pass the guardsman, and he put up his hands to stop her.

"You can't go in there! This is my responsibility. If I lose anyone else— The Captain will have my hide if anything happens to you!"

"Stand down, soldier. This is my fight." Hawke patted him reassuringly on the shoulder. She wasn't nearly as confident as she pretended to be, however. The Arishok had made it clear how dangerous this gas was, that it would send those who breathed it into a homicidal frenzy before it killed them. She cursed the Arishok under her breath, using some of Isabela's favorite phrases.

"That's right, sweet thing," Isabela said, laughing. "You're learning. I'll have you sounding like the brawniest sailor on the seas before you know it."

"Um ... great?" Hawke turned to her crew. "Try not to breathe."

"Riiight," Varric said.

A green miasma hung over the alley, and people were screaming within the choking fog. Hawke tripped over a piece of metal in the road, and bent to pick it up. The air was clearer near the ground, and she motioned for the others to stay as low as they could. The piece of metal looked like some kind of latch. She shoved it into her belt as they moved farther into the winding maze of alleys.

"Hawke!"

She turned to look at Varric, who pointed at a barrel that was emitting clouds of the green poison.

"Can you close that?" he asked.

Hawke plucked the latch out of her belt. "Help me!" she said to Isabela. Together they wrestled the lid back on the barrel, and Hawke latched it. The fog began to dissipate immediately, but they could see it hanging in the air farther ahead. "Too much to hope there would only be one barrel," Hawke said with a sigh. "How are we all doing? Anyone feeling especially homicidal?"