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wip whenever: forgot how much i enjoy writing dorian's scary mom
“So,” she says. Each word wrought in casual ice. “I understand you had a wedding, and did not see fit to invite your own mother.”
Dorian sighs with exasperation as he turns to face her. “It was a small and private affair. Besides which, I rather had the impression you would not approve of the occasion. Much less be interested in celebrating it.”
“I would have appreciated the opportunity to make that judgement for myself.”
“Oh, yes. I am quite certain you would have relished the opportunity to cast judgement upon it. That is your favourite pastime, after all.”
“And yet you cruelly deprived me of the opportunity.”
“Perhaps I wished to enjoy my own wedding day without bearing the burden of your judgements.”
“Oh, please,” Aquinea says. “If you did not wish to face judgement, you would not have married yourself to a man. Let alone a southern peasant with such a notorious reputation.”
“Has it occurred to you that I might have married him because I genuinely love him?”
“And what does that have to do with the matter?” Aquinea asks. “If marriage had a whit to do with love, this world would be a very different place, my pet. You would certainly not be standing here to lash me with your impertinent tongue.”
“Yes, well. Forgive me if watching you be miserably trapped in a loveless marriage with Father did not inspire me to take the same interpretation.”
“I am hardly trapped with him,” she says. “Why, I haven’t laid eyes upon the man in months.”
“How fortunate for you.” Dorian turns to go.
Aquinea says, “You must introduce me, at the very least.”
Dorian halts, turns back about. “Why?”
“Perhaps I am simply curious.”
“I repeat, why?” Dorian says. “You have hardly taken an interest in my affairs before now.”
“Then you should be pleased that I am now taking an interest.”
“And for what possible purpose would you do that?”
Aquinea narrows her eyes. “It is rather unfair that your father should be allowed to meet this man by means of subterfuge, while I have come to you to request the meeting quite politely, and find myself denied. What sort of message does that send to your poor mother? Must I also resort to plotting and ambush in order to satisfy my curiosity?”
Dorian sighs. “Ah. I see. You are jealous that Father met him and you did not.”
“I could hardly be jealous of that man,” Aquinea says. “I simply do not see why the privilege of meeting your chosen should be his alone.”
“Which is the definition of jealousy.”
“Incorrect.” Aquinea nonchalantly examines her nails. “Also, I have heard it said that your notorious southerner is rather handsome, and wish to see for myself.”
Dorian snorts. “There we are. An understandable reason at last.”
“Indeed. I would have rather thought, if you are as fond of him as you claim, that you would be pleased for the opportunity to display him to me.”
“Not if you intend to criticize him in the process,” Dorian says. “If this meeting were to happen—if, mind—it is conditional upon you being kind.”
Aquinea lifts one perfectly shaped brow. “Kind?”
“Yes, kind,” Dorian says. “He is my husband and that must be respected. I will not stand for any rudeness toward him, do you understand?”
“If he is truly worthy of you, my darling son,” Aquinea says, “then he will be capable of defending himself from rudeness, without requiring you to leap to his defense.”
“Of course he is capable—”
“Then I see no harm in testing him.”
“I am saying he should not have to be tested!” Dorian says. “He has earned my adoration a thousand times over, and if you are truly invested in my happiness, then that should be enough for you.”
Aquinea is regarding him with a slightly furrowed brow, her chin delicately placed on one graceful, bejeweled finger. “I begin to suspect we are participating in two entirely different conversations. What sorts of strange fancies have you been filling your head with down in those wretched Free Marches?”
Dorian sighs. “Nothing you would be interested in, I expect.”
“Well, that is a given. Such dreary country. So little civilization to be had, and nary a winery in sight. What in the world even is there to drink?”
every time i start to feel cringe for being too deep in the hyperfixation i remember the intense depression i have waded through and have to remind myself that enjoyment is fleeting (so grab it with both hands), and life is for loving (so hold that love close), and if anyone thinks i’m cringe they must not be having a very good time (and i hope they can find a good time soon).
deleted scene saturday: dorian considers the impractical quandaries of being in the honeymoon phase
“This is going to be an issue, isn’t it?” Dorian asks.
“Hmm?” Hawke asks. Dorian only seems to have a sliver of Hawke’s attention for this inquiry; the rest of Hawke’s focus is on Dorian’s hand, as Hawke lazily kisses his way down from Dorian’s knuckles.
“First, we have a wonderful time sleeping together, and I am so content afterwards that I can do nothing but lie here…”
“Not seeing the problem,” Hawke murmurs against the back of Dorian’s wrist.
“Then, naturally, because we are next to each other, we enter into conversation,” Dorian says. “As I am quite smitten with you and find you so very charming, I can easily speak to you for ages…”
Hawke sits right up to give Dorian his full attention, dropping his chin on his fist with a grin. “Oh, go on! What other nice things do you have to say about me?”
“Given that you are so enjoyable to talk to,” Dorian says, as Hawke cheekily bats his eyelashes, “we then prattle long enough that our appetite for sex returns, and why would we not indulge that while it’s here? When we’re finished with that we must lie about again, and of course at that point I have thought of more things to say to you…”
“Ah, right. I think I understand,” Hawke says. “You’re saying things are too nice. Is that it?”
“I am asking you, how are we ever going to accomplish anything again? We could remain here perpetually at this rate. How does any couple in love ever find the time to tend to their responsibilities?”
“Hmm,” Hawke says. “Well. We might eventually run out of things to say…”
“Ha! Doubtful. You know how I adore the sound of my own voice.”
“Hm, yes, and I also adore the sound of your voice. Relatedly, I’m told it’s difficult to make me shut my mouth…”
“I can confirm that much firsthand,” Dorian says.
“…So perhaps the issue of us being caught in this endless cycle is, uh… particular to our situation.”
Dorian raises a brow. “Our situation, meaning… the two of us being such uniquely fascinating individuals?”
“Right,” Hawke says. “Or, maybe, being so insufferably talkative that no one else but us could stand each other?”
Dorian had started to laugh midway through this theory; his laughter continues beneath his protest: “No, no! That can’t be correct. It’s surely the reason that I said!”
“Oh, no, yes, that’s probably it,” Hawke laughs. He scoops Dorian in closer to kiss him again, firm and sound in spite of the way they’re both shaking with amusement.
At length Hawke breaks away to nestle his head against Dorian’s chest. “Well. Whatever the reason for it, I just thank the Maker that you can put up with me.”
Dorian shakes his head, trailing his fingers through Hawke’s hair. “Hardly a challenge, I assure you.”
ed. note: this conversation was once in bit of a shithole but then I had to cut it because, true to their observations, they always talk way more than I need them to. alas!
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Please feast your eyes on the work of my very good and talented friend @boltlightning, who surprised me by turning my Dorian in DA2 long-fic into a real live physical book!
Because bolt is a bookbinding genius, it includes so many cool details... It's stamped with the Kirkwall seal! Stitched with a peacock-blue headband! And peacock-inspired endpaper! And subtle Hawke-red accents in the design!
...And a stupid title I sure didn't picture in elegant print when I chose it for a laugh! But look how beautiful it looks now. (bolt even legitimized my stupidity by adding the canon banter as a lovely epigraph! How perfect is that?)
Also: My overthought new translations and food lore incorporated as footnotes and appendices! Now that's a true friend who listens to my brainrot. (please don't encourage me, bolt)
And finally: This beautiful art I commissioned from @the-upper-shelf with Hawke and Dorian in Kirkwall-non-mage disguise, placed as the endpiece to the epilogue ♥♥♥ IT LOOKS SO GOOD.
(feat. me awkwardly obscuring spoilers for the 2 remaining people out there who might still be interested in many thousands of words about Andraste's most niche ship)
I can't quite describe the feeling of carting a hefty block of my own words around the house, but I couldn't be happier. 10/10. Recommend realizing your creative work in physical form so you can cradle it like a baby. Thank you, bolt, you are a genius.
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the house (my brain) is so quiet after the kid (my extremely long fanfiction) goes off to college (is finally completely posted). like what do i even do now. it's so quiet up here. hello kid i miss you why do you never call me.
consider: what if veilguard's The Butcher was a rebellious saarebas
I keep thinking about this idea so I'm gonna put it down on internet paper.
The Butcher has the potential to be a pretty cool villain, but as I played Veilguard I kept thinking that everything about him would hit harder with some more groundwork. Why is he working with Elgar'nan, other than the general "for power" justification? Why does he love Treviso so much that he's willing to die for it in such a terrible way? We have hints of answers, but I just wanted more to all of it.
I'm guessing the reason we didn't get more answers was just a lack of game resources. But! We could make something so cool out of these ingredients.
Personally, I don't find the Antaam and their goal of power and general brutality to be particularly compelling. So consider this instead: A faction of saarebas who rebelled from the Qun (or the Antaam, if you're abiding by this game's mages-under-the-Qun retcon), and seized freedom for themselves.
Now THAT'S a motivation to go mad with newfound power! They've been collared and repressed their whole lives.
And the Butcher could be positioned at the head of this faction, a rebel and visionary who convinced his fellow saarebas to reject their Ketojan-like conditioning and break free. He would have to be a pretty forceful and magnetic personality to succeed in such a task! And would likely have needed the help of all the extra power he could get.
On which note... Now imagine if they've turned to blood magic!
Seriously, what happens when you do blood magic with dragon blood? I have no idea but I bet it would have some cool mechanical boss fight implications to find out!!
(At least, the lore seems to hint that qunari have some dragon blood. Right? Right. And the saarebas we've encountered are already terribly powerful even while incredibly controlled, and presumably forbidden from anything even resembling blood magic. What great and terrible possibilities there could be!)
....I wrote out all my ideas for redoing the quest in this spirit, but it got long. If you're also interested in narrative design, and like to think about editing game narratives within mechanical constraints, I'll whack the rest of my ideas below the cut!
Rewriting the quest
The basic ideas of the Butcher falling in love with a new life abroad, and having some Arishok-style interactions with Rook where they might gain some grudging respect for each other despite the circumstances, are not bad. But let's get some clearer motivations in there!
(Frankly, I would love to divorce side villains like the Butcher from the Evanuris entirely. The "all villains are on the same team" thing is not my favourite, and the Antaam and the Venatori working together is particularly bothersome, given the historical context. However! I must acknowledge that "one big villain team" is probably a non-negotiable element that was placed on the writers for mechanical reasons. So I'll obey the budget and work within that framework. The true narrative design experience...)
So: If the Butcher is a leader of a faction of rogue saarebas, he could well have accepted an offer of power from the Evanuris that enabled him to break free, liberate his fellows, and lead them on to their new life. That's a compelling reason to join up with them.
In this version of events, the Butcher will have spent some time merrily conquering and sowing terror, drunk on Evanuris power and the newfound freedom to let loose.
But by the time Rook meets him, he has come to regret his new leash. Elgar'nan's power has its own terrible strings, after all. And isn't that exactly what he was trying to get away from in the first place? He's beginning to grow resentful that his life has never left him any avenues of choice.
We can keep the general frame of the quest, but we should give Rook at least one direct exchange with the Butcher before their battle to define a dynamic between them. Show that the Butcher is a bit of a bastard, but an interesting and clever one who’s been through a great deal, and who used the means at his disposal to transform his life and take back from a world that never gave him much. He's done terrible things, yes, but he's also had a difficult journey, and in some ways we can understand why he took the escape that was offered him. Even one single dialogue exchange replacing one of the many other conversations at the Crow base or in the marketplace (to keep resources the same) could accomplish a lot here.
Then, at the end of the quest, have the Butcher come to Rook in good faith. He's tired of obeying orders, he says, and ready to risk taking a stand against the Evanuris in an attempt to shake off their leash and finally experience a life of his own making. This choice is his.
...Only for the Evanuris to reach down and blight the Butcher in retribution for his attempted betrayal, because when he accepted their power to break his saarebas chains he also bound himself to them in some magical fashion. (Or something along those lines!)
So we go ahead and do the boss fight the game wants us to do here with the blighted Butcher. But as the Butcher dies, Elgar'nan's power at last abandons him, and he is able to hang on long enough to give us the information about them that we need before he expires. One final choice of his own! Now we must mourn this guy who is both slightly terrible and slightly admirable, who could have grown into something much better than he was, if only life had ever given him the chance! How sad! I think that would be pretty cool.
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