Dragon Age Inquisition Short Stories

Poison ZevranxWarden

"Another glorious defeat of the darkspawn!" Oghren shouts. "I think it calls for a drink."

He quickly uncorks the nugskin canteen at his belt and takes a generous swig. He swallows loudly and soon burps, muttering to himself about some former battle.

"Morrigan, what do you make of this?" Zevran asks, handing her a pouch full of something. She takes it and sniffs it quickly handing it back, her face contorting in disgust.

"It's horrific, Zevran!" She exclaims. She turns away from him, suppressing gagging.

I sheathe my staff and reach down to pick up a healing potion off the decaying carcass of a darkspawn, but am stopped short by a searing, unbearable pain in my left side.

I immediately and instinctually put my hand on the wound. I pull back my fingers to see them covered in my Grey Warden tainted blood. I try to call for help but I start to sway. My head pounds harder than the darkspawn army's drums. My side burns like someone is holding a white hot branding iron to it. I feel myself start to fall. My vision blurs.

I crash into the ground. I see Zevran call my name, but I do not hear him well. He rushes to me, falling to his knees to hold my head on his hand.

"My love, what is wrong? Where--Morrigan!" He yells. He must have seen the wound. It must be horrible. I can tell from his beautiful face. His eyes scram worry. His face is hard though, as if he's staying off his emotions.

"Ze--" but he cuts me off.

"Hush, my love. Save your strength. We need to get you healed."

To anyone, he would seem calm, but I know better. I've seen many instances where anyone would be stressed or angry or sad, but he isn't. Battle doesn't scare him. High ranking aristocrats don't make him nervous. Being chased and hunted by The Crows, doesn't worry him. But I see the look in his eyes and the set of his lips and jaw. He's terrified.

"For the Maker's sake, Zevran, what's wrong?"

Out of the corner of my eye I see Morrigan. In an instant, her expression goes from mild annoyance to shock. She runs to us and kneels to my left.

"There's too much blood." She says urgently.

"What can you do to fix her?"

My dear Zevran has never looked so unbelievably scared. I didn't think I'd ever have to seem him like this. I must show him that I'm fine.

"I'm fine. Just hand me a potion an--"

"An arrow struck you." Morrigan says. It isn't a question, but I know she awaits confirmation. I simply nod and she sighs.

"The arrow must have been laced with a poison of some sorts. There is far too much blood for a graze wound like this. I'm going to need to make a poultice. Oghren!"

It's just a graze. Nothing to worry about then.

It starts to throb. It's unimaginable. And temporarily blinds me. My eyes shut in pain and I try to grab hold of my side, but hands go down and hold my arms to the ground. I grunt and shake to get them to let go, but it doesn't work.

I feel tears fall down my cheeks. The pain is becoming more than I'm able to handle. It burns. I can feel something agonizing moving up, through the wound, into my chest. It's worse than the Joining. And nothing is worse than the Joining.