Dragon Age Origins Fanfiction
So recently, I’ve looked at the first fanfiction I’ve written three years ago as I’m struck with a case of low motivation to continue my current projects. I’m currently struggling with making my writing immersive but the problem is, I have a weird reaction to that. A beta reader once told me to write it through my character’s senses because my current writing is not making readers connect with the character. Problem is, when I try to write as if I’m in my characters’ head, it feels weirdly violating, Like I’m committing mind rape to them. Probably because I write my characters as If they’re real, and I just give them the plot for them to react to it and I to record what they do with it. My characters rarely end up as I intended at first. So this immersion thing really messes up our dynamic and it’s affecting my current works to the point I’ve stopped writing altogether.
Anyway, I read my old finished fanfiction again and while I think it’s not as good as I thought then, it also surprised me. I’ve forgotten some of the old jokes and it made me laugh both because I enjoy it and surprised that I’ve actually wrote those funny things. Then an idea to solve my current problem appeared in my head and I’m testing it out to see if it works.
This is only an excerpt, but I’m planning a rework of my old fic for publication soon. It’s about the Fifth Blight and narrated by Philliam, A Bard wrote it like an interview style/non-fiction book. The old fic in question: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13074672/chapters/29909850
Paragons are the elite of dwarven society and their symbol of dwarven excellence. They are the equivalent of gods in our society, for dwarves worship their ancestors and they consider paragons a living Ancestor, carrying the wisdom and will of the departed ones. They can be drawn from any caste, even the casteless, which is the only way one can change their caste upward. The house of one of our heroes was descended from such a Paragon.
The Noble House of Aeducan was founded when their ancestor became a Paragon for leading the dwarves against the darkspawn during the Fifth Blight and saved their race. Currently, they were the ruling, royal house of Orzammar, of which our hero belongs.
Now he would have told his tale from when he was recruited into the wardens, but that would not give us an idea of his character. Coaxing him to start during his time in Orzammar before his recruitment was difficult, as I understood it was painful for him to recount those events the most, but I managed it, as you shall see.
I am Thorin Aeducan, the second child of King Endrin Aeducan. I have two brothers; Trian was the eldest and the heir apparent and Bhelen the youngest. We grew up close as only boys do, until our coming of age where we went to our separate ways; Trian to train under our father to succeed him and me and Bhelen off to the army and lead them against the eternal threat of darkspawn. Fighting in the Deep Roads wasn’t much to Bhelen’s liking and went off to live like a pampered prince in the Diamond Quarter. I, meanwhile, see no better life than among those who fight and shed bled with each other.
Probably the first sign I had that everything would change for me occurred on the day I was ordered back by my Father to the city to honor my work in the Deep Roads. It started harmless enough, in my room at the palace, as Gorim assisted me in dressing up for the feast. I donned the antique armor of my grandfather which was more showy than practical. The burnished metal was too bright, the metal too thin and the shape too bulky. Looking at my reflection, I could see I was uncomfortable in it. My body was accustomed to my regular armor, which I think was molded from spending too much time fighting it grew callused to make them fit. While not-ill fitting, the ceremonial armor I was wearing was sending danger signals in my mind which I could not shake as Gorim laughing softly behind me, in the same spirit as if he just caught me wearing my grandmother’s gowns.
“Not to your taste, my lord?” he asked, dressed decently in armor that was as not as pretentious as the one I was wearing. His grin made even his wide face wider and his whole face was effusive as the light from the torch was caught in his simply styled, but neat, copper hair.
I looked away from my reflection to his smiling face as he held a matching antique sword in his hand. Then I looked down on myself. “This belongs in the Shaperate,” I said, as I readjust the straps of the gauntlet again.
“Hardly, my lord. If you’re concerned about it breaking apart due to age, then worry not. It was crafted by excellent smiths whose skill is still unsurpassed by anyone alive. It would certainly withstand some bit of walking.”
I groaned. “Not that. It just feels…wrong. This,” I pointed in the mirror at the shoulder guard, which was comically large enough to use as a shield, “isn’t something I’d think to be good to wear. How am I supposed to move in this thing?”
“That was the point. It’s meant to catch attention as fast as possible,” Gorim said, stepping closer to my side. “Its size was supposed to show the breadth of your strength and power and make everyone looking at you fall in awe. Which is perfect for the feast your father threw for you. We can’t have our celebrant looking unremarkable now can’t we?”
I shook my head at their silliness. My regular armors were perfectly fine.
“Now, do you wish to wear your shield to the feast?”
“Yes. Let me see them as the warrior I am and not some dressed-up spoiled prince,” I said as I gestured at my reflection. The shield on my back might calm me enough not to notice what I was wearing in time for the party. A shield saved me plenty of times in the Deep Roads when I sometimes lose my grip on my sword, and nothing was more comforting by the feel of it on my back.
“That would surely tell the nobles that you are a warrior if they hadn’t known already,” Gorim snarked. I shrugged that off. Gorim was more jesting of his lord than other seconds but I don’t mind it. No one was more faithful and more trustworthy than he.
Gorim stopped grinning at last and his tone was serious when he spoke again. “Moving on to the business at hand, the king expects you to make an appearance at the feast, but there’s no rush. The noble family heads will spend hours boring your father with petitions and petty grievances.”
“And you’re suggesting we do something else?”
“Well, as part of the celebrations, permits have been auctioned off to members of the Merchant Caste who wished to sell wares in the Diamond Quarter. Lord Harrowmont has also opened up the Provings for young warriors to test their mettle before the upcoming battle.”
I considered it. Though I would have liked to watch the Provings, it just served in the past for lesser nobles to push their petitions by chatting with me, hoping I’d pass it to my father’s ears. Though I discouraged them at every turn, still they persist so I never enjoyed watching at all.
“The Proving sounds appealing but I’d rather not meet other nobles until it’s time. Let’s go have a look at the Diamond Quarter.”
Gorim bowed. “As you wish, my lord. The day is ours until the feast.”
I cast one look at my room. It was sparsely furnished and decorated, for I rarely use it but today, it was filled with gifts from my friends, other noble houses, commoners whose names I do not know and even from my men who I left in the Deep Roads. Even though they could not leave their post as I did, they still managed to send gifts to me. We sneaked out the palace, bypassing the hall where my father was entertaining his subjects and emerged onto the Diamond Quarter. I huff with satisfaction as I saw the city laid out, sparkling like a well cut jewel. The Diamond Quarter was laid out with two wings on each side and the proving ground jutting out in the middle while the lava flowing below lit bathed everything in warm light. Our ancestors have hewn the rock of this cavern to make our home; in sharp lines, hard walls, and strong pillars.
Every day, the city grows in beauty and I cannot be prouder.
“Shall we take a look at the stalls, my lord?” Gorim gently prompted me.
I smiled at him to excuse my lapse. “Of course.”
We walked down the steps towards the ground at the left of the palace, which was filled with stalls selling all kinds of dwarven crafts in honor of the Proving today. As soon as I appeared, everyone acknowledged my presence through the gradual lessening of their talk.
The previously spacious ground was now filled to bursting with stalls selling every kind of merchandise from the city and the surface. A shop selling dwarven weapons and armor was placed next to one selling human-made trinkets. Behind a rack of smithing tools was a cabinet filled with surfacer curiosities. And tables with sumptuous food from the surface. Bottles of wine and beer known to people.
We dwarves mostly produce what we need, but we could never beat the surfacers in terms of food and cloth. They have simply far more variety up there and I briefly wondered how they could have it. From what Duncan told me, the surface was wide open, with no ceiling, and seemed to stretch from side to side, seemingly without end, so they had more crops than I could count with my fingers. Though Duncan never lied to me, I always thought what he said about the surface as ridiculous. An infinite space like that; however did it not manage to break up and fall apart?
Currently, I was looking at a display of surfacer cloths with the owner standing attentively at my side. I have little use for it as I’m rarely out of armor, save for leather and cotton, but the stall owner has many interesting types displayed today.
“A bolt for your lady, my lord?” he inquired. “We have all manner of cloths she will surely love: wool and velvet from Ferelden, silk from Orlais, cotton, and linen from the Free marches. If you would like something more special, we have embroidered bolts at the back in silver and gold thread. We also have ones appliqued with gems. Just let me get to it.”
I smiled at his insinuation of a mistress. Before I could speak, Gorim spoke. “You are too familiar, merchant,” he scolded the shopkeeper. “This is your prince who you’re talking to and you ought to pay him more respect.”
“It’s alright, Gorim,” I said as the merchant began to cower and mutter his apologies. I smiled wider to reassure him. “No harm done.”
The merchant started to stammer. “Apologies my lord. I wanted to please you so badly that I-”
“It’s alright. I took no offense.”
He nearly fell to his knees. “Oh, thank you, my lord.”
I drew back my hand at the silk bolt I was looking at. “Let me assure you; Your attention to me has pleased me enough that, if I were to be fortunate enough to have a wife, I surely would look for you to recommend to me an appropriate gift for her.”
He stammered effusively his thanks and with a nod, I and Gorim went to the next stall, which was selling something to my taste
“Greetings, my lord Aeducan,” the weapon seller called to me as we stepped in front of his goods. “I am so honored to have you visit my booths.” He stopped and looked as if he was about to say something. When I turned to look at his wares, he spoke, lowering his voice. “If you would excuse me, I have a…preposition but I dare not approach any further.”
I stared at his face in surprise. Gorim stepped closer and looked at the merchant likewise but with narrowed eyes. “Yet you dare now?”
“It’s alright,” I said to Gorim. “I’ll hear him out.”
Gorim nodded at me and turned back to the merchant. “Very well then. Speak.”
The merchant made himself smaller as he glanced around us. “Sorry. So nervous. I have a dagger made. For…you. As a gift for your first command. I, uh, sent a messenger to deliver the dagger to you but Prince Trian threw him out. I don’t know what offense he caused, but I had him beaten severely.”
Gorim and I glanced at each other. We both saw we had no idea why Trian would stop people from giving gifts to me. It was none of his business.
“I’m sure Trian has his reasons,” I said carefully.
He nodded, seemingly to accept my explanation. “Would you like to look at the dagger?”
He smiled with extreme elation. “Oh, thank you, my lord. A thousand thanks to you. Here…” he bent down to retrieve a box on a drawer. He opened it, showing it to us. Inside nestled an extremely beautiful dagger on dark purple velvet. It was triangular-shaped, with the grip covered in druffalo leather. The guard was embossed with intricate designs and the blade shone dark like obsidian, I knew the blade was silverite just extremely polished to look like the glass. It was not merely decorative a fragile beauty belying its deadliness.
I was silent in admiration. From what I can see, I have no complaints about its craftmanship.
“That’s an amazing piece merchant,” Gorim said, not quite keeping his awe out of his voice.
“You do me much honor ser,” the merchant replied, abashed. “The blade has been crafted over a period of two years by masters of every art. I wish to bless my lord’s first command and hope that someday, when he rules, he will wear it.”
I and Gorim went still as we both understood that the merchant was proposing treason. Dangerous words to speak aloud in the middle of the public market. If his messenger was just as careless as he, then Trian throwing him out was no mystery.
“Trian is heir,” I reminded him gently, hoping that only his enthusiasm had led him to speak treason. “He will rule when my father your king returns to the Stone.”
“If the Assembly wills it,” he said, looking upward in the sign of our Ancestors. “Forgive me ser but whispers say that the second child of King Endrin will be chosen.”
“The whispers are wrong,” I said more strongly to impress in him his danger. “What they propose is treason and you would do well not to speak that aloud.”
“I was born a prince and I shall die a prince,” I added. “I have no wish to take the throne as long as Trian is alive to claim it. Pass it on to those who whispered to you and never speak of this again, for your own safety and those around you.”
The merchant bowed low. “Of course. Thank you my lord for warning me. But,” he looked with pain at the dagger in his hands, “what shall I do with this?”
The wise thing to do was to throw it in the lava but as I saw the way he looked at it as if it was his child, I reconsidered. We dwarves don’t treat our craftmanship lightly.
“I’ll take the dagger. I’ll wear it with pride when Trian ascends the throne.”
The merchant looked at me as if I’d just saved his family. I glanced at Gorim and he immediately held out his hands to take it from his hands. The merchant handed it over with reverent care, taking one final look at it, then turned to me, with tears in his eyes. “Thank you. You bring uncountable honor to me.”
I nodded my goodbye and we walked away from the stall. As soon as we’re out of earshot of the merchant, Gorim remarked. “What he meant is this will bring you uncountable gold to him if you wear that piece in public.”
I smiled at his cynicism. “Gorim, be kind to the poor man. He nearly lost his life today.”
“All for a bit of gold,” he answered and shook the package in his arms lightly. “Whispers, indeed. This is a princely gift. If Trian recognizes it, though, it may send the wrong message.” He then gave me a sideways look and added in a low voice, “Or the right one, depending on your view.”
I stopped walking to stare at him in shock. “Gorim, are you sincerely proposing…”
Gorim glanced around us and made his voice low, which, from the chatter of the people around us, would make his words intelligible to anyone but me. “My lord, you should know, though your humility prevents you so, that most people would want you to take your Father’s place instead of Prince Trian.”
I stared at him for a long while and I didn’t know I was holding my breath until it was forced out of me in coughing disbelief. “This is just a steaming pile of brontoshit.”
“I am not jesting, my lord. The army loves you, and the people too in the same way that they do. And the nobles would rather deal with you than with Prince Trian with his volatile temper.”
“Spawn’s balls, Gorim! I am not gonna take my brother’s birthright. My brother, who I love.”
Gorim clamped his lips tight as I looked at him with disbelief that he would dare say something extremely painful to me. “What kind of man do you think I am to think that I would do that?” I asked softly.
Gorim kept silent, looking at the ground in shame.
“Let’s speak no more of it,” I said with finality and we went to other stalls in silence.
While we peruse the next stall in a somber mood than the one we started in, we did not expect to run so early onto the one we were arguing about.
“Atrast vala, big brother. How surprising to run into you out among the common folk,” said a chirping voice to my left.
I turned around and found my younger brother, Bhelen. Despite his greeting, his pale face looked harried and the light blue eyes had no luster. It always was the case when he was with our elder brother, Trian, who was standing next to him, looking like his overgrown version. In contrast, Trian narrowed his eyes when he saw me and gave a deep huff, sending the braids in his light-colored beard to flutter. His face was set in hard lines of disapproval.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Gorim whipped the gift swiftly but deftly at his side, away from the view of my brothers, instead of holding it in front. I glanced at Bhelen quickly, who looked slightly guilty when he met my gaze then back to Trian. I knew immediately Bhelen used me as a distraction to our elder brother. Because Trian looked like he’s about to chew someone out.
“Especially since duty requires you to attend our father the king. Have you little respect for him to disregard his wishes on a day set for you?” he asked sharply at me.
Knew it. Before I can say anything, Gorim spoke up. “Lord Harrowmont assured me we wouldn’t be needed for hours at least-”
“Silence! If I want the opinion of my sibling’s second, I will ask for it,” Trian barked, cutting him off.
Gorim mumbled “Yes Your highness” and stepped back.
My brows drew together in reproof at Trian and I said, “Don’t speak to him like that.”
Trian raised his in surprise at my words then drew together in irritation. “I’ll speak to the lower houses and castes as they should be spoken to,” he said snittily.
Stone, I love my brother but he makes it hard to be loyal.
“Now do as I say,” he added.
I gritted my teeth. “I will go at my leisure,” I said in a measured tone.
Trian stared at me with a shocked face for one moment, as if I’d sprouted another head, then he went red with rage. He stepped closer to me until we were face to face. “If I am king, you will never be allowed to act like that to me again,” he growled, keeping his eyes on me to make me cower. But I stared back hard without flinching, even as a crowd formed around us. Nothing Trian can do to me will scare me after what I’ve endured in the Deep Roads.
“Come, Bhelen,” he said finally, snapping his fingers. Bhelen looked at me, sheepishly, then followed like a dog to our brother’s retreating back. The crowd around us parted out of the way for them, then looked back at me uncertainly.
“It’s just a quarrel with brothers,” Gorim said to them, smiling. “Everyone back to business.” As we watch the crowd disperse reluctantly, Gorim turned to me and said “That was fun. Nothing like being talked down by the next king.”
“He had better not be like that when he is king. The nobles won’t stand a tyrant,” I said, looking on until the heads of my brothers were lost among the crowd.
“Oh? What has your brother done now?”
I turned at the speaker and was pleased with what I’ve found. Finally, a person I like to talk to. “Nerav. Stone met,” I greeted and bowed to a woman dressed fashionably in silk and sable.
Lady Nerav, daughter of Lord Helmi. Also my betrothed.
I’ve seen her many times dressed in a smith’s apron with soot on her face and looked mostly at home with that, but she had no problem being decked out in her best for an occasion.
I gave a look at Gorim to give us some privacy and he retreated to a respectful distance. Then I gestured at her if she would take a stroll with me. She accepted with a smile on her full cheeks and we headed leisurely away from the stalls. Immediately, she asked me about Trian.
I sighed. “He has been throwing his weight again. Reminding each and every noble that he is the firstborn Aeducan, as if they didn’t know already,” I said.
She nodded sagely. “As he should, since the election is coming up. He must be anxious.”
“Yes, skittish as a nug in a dwarven kitchen. I just wish he doesn’t shat on us all while he’s at it.”
She laughed. “Oh Thorin, you were always my favorite.”
“Oh? I had competition?” I teased.
“Plenty. But before you, there’s just no comparison.”
“Good to know. Embarrassing, otherwise. Not looking forward to talking to your father why you chose me and not the others.”
“Oh, don’t worry about my father. I think he loves you more than I do.”
“Hmm. I like my chances. At least I wouldn’t expect him on our wedding day threatening to disembowel me if I did anything funny to you.”
“If you did anything funny to me, I think he’d still adore you.”
I chuckled. This was why I was going to marry her. She had a sensible head on her shoulders and share the same humor as I. We had been friends since childhood and when his father dropped hints that it was time for him to marry, I never hesitated to ask her.
We arrived near the railing overlooking the flowing lava. She leaned on it, the warm light shining on her face and on her dark hair like a halo, and I thought she grew up very beautifully. She is the only woman I’ve spent more time with and I wondered why marrying her never entered my head until she told me one day that I had the right of first refusal for her hand. For many years, she said.
“About the wedding, I want to talk to you about something and you’re not going to like it,” I said.
She turned to me still with that charming, teasing look on her face. “Oh? Is this the part where we tell each other’s dirty secrets? Like you always leave your clothes on the floor so I should expect to pick it up after you forever?”
“Save it when we’re married. This is more pressing.”
She stopped her teasing and waited.
I took a breath before announcing it. “We’re going to postpone the wedding.”
“What?” she yelled, as I expected. I wasn’t aware of the preparations for our wedding but I knew enough that she had worked long on it.
“At least until Trian is crowned. I didn’t like the look I got from him when I announced our engagement.” He looked like he was about to kill me then my bethroted. My brother wasn’t a particular favorite with the nobles, and seeing me, his younger brother, being the toast of Orzammar in alliance with one of the strongest noble houses, must have turned his mood sour.
When we were children, we were thick as thieves and Trian wasn’t this volatile back then. Now that we’re grown, he looked at everyone with suspicion and acted as if everyone was in conspiracy against him all the time. Even his family. And I had no idea why we’ve come to this.
“So we’re not getting married because your brother looked you wrong?” Nerav mocked, drawing her arms across her chest as she pouted.
“Don’t be like that,” I said to her. “We’re still getting married, just later. I don’t want to get married while Trian is in a foul mood. He might crash the cake.”
“Poor cake. I think I should tell the baker to make it from granite.”
“Yeah, tell him to come to me. I think I could find plenty of that in the Deep Roads.”
We shared a laugh, as we always do.
Nerav seemed to be pacified enough about her work being postponed and spoke with the same cheer as before she knew about it. “So, I have work to do, telling everyone the wedding is delayed. And what would the handsome groom do?”
“I’m going back to the Deep Roads, at least, until the election is over. I find I like hearing more of my men’s snoring than Trian’s tirades.”
“So I’m going to play the part of the pining lover?”
“Yes, you do that marvelously, the way you polish your ax.”
She laughed for a while then grew serious. She looked at me with slyness in her eyes. “Don’t you think he has other reasons for being …testy?”
“Like there having a stronger contender for the throne?”
“There’s no one else who has a stronger claim than he has. Lord Harromont may try, but he’s too loyal to my father. The other noble houses may, but they don’t come close to my family in terms of prestige and honor.”
“Maybe it doesn’t have to be from another house. Maybe it comes from someone who had the esteem of both the noble and warrior caste by his fearless campaigns against the darkspawn.”
I sighed, a deep rumble. “Ancestors, not you too.”
She cocked her head quizzically. “Not me too?”
I glanced at Gorim. She followed it and turned back to me, understanding on her face.
I rubbed at my temple. “What idiot pushed my name forward?”
“It’s been talked about by everyone. If you were just born first, the deshyrs would accept you as king without a murmur.”
“Well, I’m not the firstborn. Trian is. And I would never go for the throne. Not while Trian lives.”
She nodded, looking down, hiding her face from me, and pressing her lips together. I could sense she thought I was just being stubborn and so annoyed at me.
“Besides, I’m not that fond of sitting on my ass all day listening to nobles argue about who owed money to whom,” I added, turning the conversation light as before.
“Well said,” she said flatly as she raised her head and turned away to continue looking around the city.
I gave a sidelong glance at her. “And don’t you want to be Queen?”
She smiled at me. “Well no, I’m not that fond of being Queen, nudging my husband the King awake while the nobles argue about who owed money to whom.”
I laughed. “So there it is; my dirty little secret. You’re going to marry an unambitious man. There’s still time to get out of the wedding if you have second thoughts,” I teased.
“The second thoughts that I have is the color of my wedding dress but the rest of it,” she leaned close and kissed my cheek, “I have no doubts.”
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