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mythalism · 23 days ago

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Watching a video of the "fight Solas" ending and I find myself really disliking the fact that Rook declares that the Veil must be tied to the life of an elven god. It is treated like a fitting punishment for Solas, and even in the redemption ending, Rook all but orders Solas to sacrifice himself to maintain the Veil (or the status quo). I also can't help but feel that Solas, the last of the elven gods, is being sacrificed to maintain the Veil that he, alone, is somehow expected to magically maintain, allowing everyone else to go on their merry way. The implication here is that the elves are losing the last of their history, or pantheon, and this is a GOOD thing, and now we can all move forward and live peacefully. Am I overthinking this? 'Cause if this was the intention it does sound kind of bad.

yeah. i do agree and i dont think you're overthinking. and even if you were, im about to overthink way harder so don't worry. forgive me for getting on my legal philosophy soapbox but thats my whole brand at this point so here we go: it is a very retributive view of punishment and desert (deserved-ness) that i morally disagree with and feels outdated in the political landscape of 2024 to me PERSONALLY!! the foundation of retributive justice is:

(1) that those who commit certain kinds of wrongful acts, paradigmatically serious crimes, morally deserve to suffer a proportionate punishment; (2) that it is intrinsically morally good—good without reference to any other goods that might arise—if some legitimate punisher gives them the punishment they deserve;

obviously this is how much of the western world conceives of punishment and western media is consequently saturated with narratives that espouse this. most of the time, restorative justice is seen as mutually exclusive with retributive justice, though there are some people who say they can be used in tandem. i disagree anyway.

i think solas's endings grapple with these ideas in a way that is... messy. its confusing because we dont actually know if he is truly imprisoned, in the sense that he cannot leave. we know he is in A prison, though its unclear whether its the new regret prison that rook was in, or the black city (epler refused to clarify this during the AMA because of "spoilers", while trick said the implication is he is "going back to the prison", the epilogue slides imply he is in the black/golden city, as does his quest to heal the blight which only exists in the black city). we also do not know what capacity he has to leave. with lavellan or after being "redeemed" by willingly binding himself to the veil, he does not have the lyrium dagger but he does have the capacity to free himself from his regrets (if hes in the regret prison) or heal the blight (if he's in the black city), exemplified by his golden epilogue slides. if he is tricked or fought, he is not in a mental space to overcome his regrets and does not swear to atone by healing the blight, but he does have the lyrium dagger with him, so we can assume he can just use it to leave, the way we literally see him do earlier in the game lol. whatever message they are trying to send with his "punishment", i think it is muddied by the vagueness of what actually happens to him in the end and where he goes.

if the message truly is that he "deserves" to be imprisoned in the fade for his long list of crimes, i find that lazy and nonsensical. first of all, he loves the fade and has been dying to return to it so thats not really a gotcha, but more importantly, which crime warrants this punishment? and is his punishment proportional? this is impossible to answer because we do not know what the punishment truly is. we also dont really even know what crime he's being imprisoned for. taking down the veil? he didnt actually get to do that. are we punishing him for something he didn't do yet? is it for killing varric? sure, i guess that one works. its the strongest of the options we have, but the game is also pretty clear that its not what varric would want. what about all of the other people he has killed? the spirits he sacrifced in that siege on elgar'nans temple? the mages who summoned and corrupted wisdom which he incinerates alive? flemythal and felassan? do they deserve retribution via solas's imprisonment? would they want that? would they find it just and satisfying? the game does not ask these questions. so we dont know. does he deserve to be imprisoned for for what he did to the titans? ok, maybe. this is stronger than the others at least. but in the trick/fight endings he doesnt vow to heal the blight, so what does his imprisonment do for the dwarves and the titans spirits? this is what i mean when i say his imprisonment is retributive, but it is not even thoroughly retributive. it does not think deeply about what solas deserves for his crimes and the proportionality of such a punishment, but it is clear that we are supposed to that he deserves to be in prison, it is morally good that he is receiving "justice", and rook is a hero for imprisoning him. his punishment is presented as a moral good because he deserves it. unfortunately for veilguard, i dont think i would ever be convinced by this message in any narrative anywhere, even if it was better written, because this is not a moral philosophy that i subscribe to.

his redemption endings feel so much better and more satisfying because his vow to use his immortality and knowledge to heal the blight that he created is restorative and has a direct correlation to his crime of creating the blight by tranquilizing the titans in the first place. his imprisonment achieves nothing outside of removing him as a "threat", which is ruined by the fact that he has the dagger and can just leave lol. devoting the next significant portion of his life to alleviating the titans suffering is not just reparative remedy that directly affects the people and creatures he has harmed, it also actively makes the world of thedas a better place. to be clear, im not saying solas is innocent. he is guilty. of a lot of things. he bears responsibility for a lot of things. he would qualify as a war criminal. but i do not believe in retributive justice. veilguard having solas kill varric because trespasser made me sympathize with him "too much" is not going to make me believe in retributive justice. for the non-atonement imprisonment endings to feel satisfying you have to subscribe to this ideology of moral desert and punishment and a lot of people do. the entire american carceral system is founded on it. so is christianity. and bioware clearly subscribes to it as well. you might disagree with me and subscribe to it yourself. thats fine. but i believe it has caused a lot of harm to our world and continues to do so. seeing it manifested in media is always disappointing to me.

regardless of the technicalities of his imprisonment, his binding to the veil is the one thing that happens regardless of his ending, and i agree that it is icky for similar reasons. the veil is his responsibility, as is the blight which he will be keeping contained with his life, so i guess you can interpret it as proportional? but again, what crime is he paying for with binding his life to the veil? is he not paying for a crime at all? is binding his life to the veil even part of his punishment? or is it just something he has to do because he's the only person alive that can do it? if that is the case, that it has to be him because he is the only proper sacrifice, and not that he deserves it, then what does it say about rook that they sacrifice someone undeserving? if he is deserving, why exactly? if he wasn't the only elven god left alive, would he still be deserving of such a fate? if the answer is no, then he does not deserve to be bound. what gives rook the right to make this call? based on the convo they have before the ending where they plan to bind him to the veil, its not clear if rook binds him because they think he deserves to be bound to one of his greatest regrets, or because he's quite literally the only option. either way, i think there is an argument for it being cruel, and unearned coming from someone like rook, who really has barely been a victim of solas's sins outside of a 2 week time-out. literally harding binding him would've been far more satisfying. or imagine if fragment mythal went rogue and did it, or morrigythal did. mythal would not be justified either but at least it would be fucking banger and evil and interesting of her. anyway.

i think your point about what it means for the elves to lose their final living god, outside of mythal who is [redacted] ? is a fantastic point. through solas's binding, they also lose the veil-less future he represented that was promised to be a better world for them. would it really have been? probably not. solas clearly thinks so. but we will never know lol. the failure of the story to grapple with the dissolution of the elves entire belief system is one of its most egregious ones, and i think this is a symptom of it. dragon age's elven lore got itself into a weird spot by veilguard and i think they just abandoned it rather than attempting to write themselves out of it. i love stories that grapple with the average person's culpability as complacent in imperialism. this is part of why fullmetal alchemist is my fav story of all time and you should watch it (fullmetal alchemist:brotherhood on hulu please im begging. but you have to watch the "brotherhood" one not the other one. its complicated dont ask). veilguard seemed to want to do something like this, but they got themselves into weird spot with the elves because their evil, slavery-based empire is a thing of the distant past, and in the present they are systemically oppressed and have no social or political power.

usually in these sorts of stories, someone currently living in an imperialist society who is directly benefiting from that imperialism is confronted with their complacency and asked to rise to the occasion of standing up for what is right, despite their material best interest. they often sacrifice their privilege as a benefactor of imperialism in the present to attempt to make up for the evils that system has inflicted on others. fmab does a wonderful job of this. there is at once both an acknowledgement that no, this is not literally YOUR FAULT, you did not order a genocide or press the nuke button, but you have benefited from it and/or participated every day of your life, whether that is through the stolen land you live on, the fact that you have never seen war in your home country, the way you can buy whatever fruit you want at the grocery store any time of year, or the way your tax dollars fund the bombs being dropped on children thousands of miles away, and you do have a moral obligation to do whatever you can to fight back. i believe this is a very important lesson for the average american (and canadian since we are talking about bioware), and anyone that lives in an imperialist country, that a lot of people have not yet learned ... lol.

this feels along the lines of what veilguard was going for (or maybe they werent and this was accidental, idk which is worse), but it fails because the elves are not currently benefiting from their past empire, like at all. actually, they live in squalor and at risk of constant violence from human empires. they have experienced centuries of genocide, violence and slavery at this point in modern thedas. the imperialistic success of the elvhen empire has absolutely no bearing on their current lives, it provides them with no privilege, and it gives them no culpability in its evils. they are thousands of years removed from it. and its not like "oh the british empire was dissolved 50 years ago so imperialism is over" no. because britain's wealth and power are a direct result of that imperialism, thus they do still benefit from it presently, even if the "official empire" is dissolved. this is true for most empires. but with the elves of thedas, they have none of the power or privilege that the elvhen empire accrued through its evils. if anything, it is tevinter that benefits most from the lost elven empire considering how much of their society is founded on its technology, and the fact that. you know. they are currently, modernly, presently an empire based on slavery. OF ELVES. so why, then, does veilguard present the elves as culpable? why does the angry titan harding creature say they are "thriving" at the titans expense? why does bellara take personal responsibility for the evils that elgar'nan and ghilan'nain commit when she had nothing to do with them? the messaging with this is so strange. it would make sense if elves were still the ruling class but... they're not. the only remnants of the empire that they have access to is their own bodies... which are systemically, bought, sold, and mutilated. though the game does erase much of the racism they face in what i can only assume was an attempt to make this work.

the combo of this + solas's trick/fight endings for what is fundamentally, according to this game itself, a desire for a better world for elves and spirits, no matter if it is misled or his methods are violent, is a depressing, bleak message that i find to be irresponsible to be sending in 2024 and considering the real world groups of people that elves are based on, most notably of the dalish as indigenous north americans. veilguard sees elves lose not just their understanding of their past, dissolving their entire worldview, their conception of their cultural identity, and their relationship to their religion, all without sufficient (or any) exploration of how devastating such a process would be, but by imprisoning solas, erasing his followers and supporters from existence, and binding him to the veil, it also robs them of the possibility of a more just future... while asking you to cheer because he deserved it. dont try to make the world a better place unless you do it the right way. work with the world as it is. your attachment to the past (when you werent being genocided regularly) is a disease. you deserve to go to jail because you tried to change the world in a way that that was too disruptive. get over it! move on! rot in jail!

#thanks for prompting this anon xoxo #didnt expect to write today but it came out of me like it always does #veilguard critical #character analysis #mine.txt

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tired-truffle · 22 days ago

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Before We Lost It All

A Viktorxfem!reader fic

Chapter Word Count: 2.5k

Tag list: @im-just-a-simp-le-whore @potatointhedirt @dedicated2viktor

"We make each other alive. Does it matter if it hurts?" - Ingmar Bergman

A/N: This takes place in chapter 9 of Muj Milacek during the scene where you convince Viktor to take a break from working and get some much-needed rest - in your bed, of course.

Masterlist

He’d let you sucker him into resting with those big, pleading eyes that plucked at his heartstrings. He was worrying you, he knew this, but he’d never been very good at accepting help. With his declining health and your visions of his death hanging over his head, he’d been growing increasingly desperate. And desperate times called for desperate measures - like sleeping in the same bed as the girl he’d been in love with for seven whole years.

If only you’d stop laughing at him.

"Is there something you find humorous about my attire, Milá?" He fixed you with what he hoped was a lovingly exasperated glare. At that point, he was too exhausted to tell.

"I'm sorry." You continued to giggle, undercutting your apology, though he found the sound pleasing enough to forgive you. "I'm overtired and I really wasn't expecting them to be that ill-fitting."

Viktor huffed at you, rolling his eyes with a small smile. He was well aware he looked ridiculous, the oversized shirt drowned his thin torso in fabric, but the pants barely reached past his knees. They had to be children’s pants, why you had them was beyond his understanding. To make matters worse, you were standing there in nothing but a large shirt that reached your upper thighs, your legs illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the window, and he assumed underwear beneath. You were gorgeous, and he was…feeling rather silly. Though he found it difficult to care all that much when you smiled so sweetly at him, the corners of your eyes crinkled with mirth.

"You can have the bed,” you offered when you’d managed to stop giggling. “I'll take the couch."

"I'm not stealing your bed, Miláček, it is plenty big enough for the both of us." Viktor pulled back the covers, slipping in. "And I will not subject you to that couch for any longer than necessary. I swear they made it with knives instead of springs."

He had insisted this both out of genuine concern for your back after sleeping on such an object, and out of his selfish want to sleep beside you. Could a dying man not be granted this one wish?

You hesitated, and for a moment he worried he’d overstepped your boundaries. But he wasn’t left waiting for long. You made your way to the bedside, shy but not necessarily timid.

"If you insist," you said, turning off the bedside lamp. "But you better not warm up your frigid toes on me."

"No promises."

The mattress dipped as you climbed into bed beside him, laying down with your hands curled tight against your chest. You were facing him, your chin tilted to meet his gaze.

This felt dangerously intimate. He was in bed with the woman he secretly loved - well, secret to you, Viktor was pretty sure everyone else knew. If he asked you to come closer, would you understand then? If he placed a soft kiss on the crown of your head, his hands cradling your back, would he need to say it? But he couldn’t voice his request, couldn’t find the words to ask for that which he longed for most.

He’d been a fool to think he could sleep with you so close yet not within his grasp. To lay beside you like his skin didn’t prickle with the need to be pressed completely against you was its own kind of torture.

"Does it hurt?" You broke the silence, your head turning to face him in the dark.

He was too tired to try to deny it, and you’d see through his lie anyway. "Yes," he answered plainly.

"Can I try something?" you asked, your tone even.

Curious and unable to deny such a simple request, he nodded. You reached forward, placing your hand against his chest and sending a bolt of excitement running through him. Your palm was soft and warm through his shirt, your heart beating quickly in your veins and tapping lightly against him. He lay still, his gaze fixed on you, giving you space to make the next move.

You closed your eyes, forcing your breathing to even out, your nose crinkling adorably in the low moonlight as you concentrated.

Nothing happened.

"Can I get closer?" you asked, and he appreciated your asking for permission - always polite and giving him the agency to choose.

He opened his arms, motioning for you to snuggle in. Slowly, you scooted closer until the top of your head was just below his chin, feeling the gentle rise and fall of your chest against his as you breathed. Your ear rested against his chest, one hand pressed against his chest while you placed the other on his back, over the back brace he’d been too tired to take off. He’d regret that tomorrow when his skin itched and his spine ached, but now he could focus on little else except the feeling of you curled up in his arms. Slipping an arm under your neck, he rested the other over your waist, drawing lazy circles on the small of your back. Viktor didn’t want to think about anything that didn’t involve you, nor how difficult it was going to be to pull himself away when the time came.

This wasn’t the first time you’d insisted he take a much-needed break from his work. Years ago you'd dragged him to a street fair in Piltover when he’d become so worn down by reports that he didn’t know where he ended and the equations began. He'd grumbled at first, but your infectious enthusiasm had won him over. You'd shared sticky cotton candy, the sweetness on your lips making him ache to taste them. When fireworks exploded overhead, he'd been captivated not by the display, but by the light reflected in your eyes.

Viktor's heart swelled with a bittersweet ache. He loved you - wholly, desperately, irrevocably. You were the sun to his withering form, the spark that kept his passion for progress alive even as his body failed him. He longed to confess, to pour out seven years of pent-up devotion. But fear held him back - fear of rejection, of complicating your friendship, of leaving you heartbroken when his time inevitably ran out.

So instead, he held you close in the darkness, committing every detail to memory. The soft whisper of your breath against his neck. The delicate curve of your spine beneath his fingertips. The subtle scent of your shampoo, floral and comforting. He etched it all into his mind, a perfect moment to carry with him always, no matter what the future held.

Viktor felt a sudden warmth emanate from your palm, spreading through his chest like rays of sunlight. A faint blue glow pulsed beneath your skin, illuminating the creases of your hand.

As your magic seeped into him, Viktor was struck by an overwhelming sense of déjà vu. The sensation was wistfully familiar, like a half-remembered dream or a long-lost memory struggling to surface. It felt like coming home after years away, like slipping into a warm bath after trudging through a blizzard. He couldn't place why it felt so natural, so right, but he found himself sinking into the comfort of it nonetheless.

The magic flowed through him, a soothing current that sought out every ache and pain. It pooled in his joints, easing the constant throbbing in his hip and knee. It traced along his spine, melting away the tension that had become a constant companion. Even the persistent headache that had taken up residence behind his eyes began to recede.

As the pain ebbed away, replaced by a numbing coolness, Viktor felt his body truly relax for the first time in years. His muscles unknotted, his breathing deepened, and the ever-present furrow between his brows smoothed out. He let out a long, shuddering sigh, filled with relief and contentment.

"Miláček," he whispered hoarsely, his voice heavy with sleep, "you truly are a wonder."

You didn't respond, your eyes still closed in concentration, but he felt your magic pulse in response to his voice. The blue glow intensified, casting soft shadows across your features. Viktor found himself enthralled at the sight, overcome by your beauty, wishing he could run his fingers down your jaw before capturing your lips in a kiss.

As the pain receded further, Viktor found his mind clearing. Ideas and solutions that had been just out of reach now crystallized with startling clarity. It was as if your magic had not only soothed his body, but sharpened his intellect as well. He wanted to leap out of bed and rush to his workbench, to capture these fleeting inspirations before they could slip away.

But the warmth of your body against his and the blissful absence of pain kept him rooted in place. For once, Viktor allowed himself to simply exist in the moment, free from the constant drive to work, to improve, to race against his own mortality. He tightened his arms around you, pulling you closer as you nestled in, pressing your face against his neck.

Viktor fought against the encroaching darkness, desperate to savour every second of this closeness, but exhaustion tugged insistently at the edges of his consciousness.

Within minutes, he was sound asleep.

Viktor drifted slowly into consciousness, his mind still blissfully foggy with sleep. Without thinking, he tightened his arms around the warm body pressed against him, pulling you closer. He nuzzled into your hair, breathing in your familiar scent. For a moment, everything was perfect.

Then awareness hit him like a bucket of ice water.

His eyes flew open as he realized where his hands were. One had slipped beneath your shirt during the night, splayed across the bare skin between your shoulder blades. If he moved it even slightly higher, he'd expose…Viktor's breath caught in his throat. He couldn't bring himself to complete that thought.

"Yeah, I noticed that too," you said, alerting him that you were awake.

He became acutely aware of every point of contact between your bodies. Your leg was slotted between his, your thigh pressed dangerously close to his groin. Your breath tickled his collarbone, your lips mere centimetres from his skin.

Viktor squeezed his eyes shut, willing away the temptation. You trusted him, had opened your home and your bed to him without hesitation. He refused to betray that trust, no matter how much his body screamed for more contact.

But oh, how he ached to explore further. To trace the curve of your spine, to map every inch of your skin with reverent touches. To wake you with gentle kisses and whispered confessions of love.

But that wasn’t for him.

"My apologies, Milá, that was not my intention," he said apologetically, reluctantly pulling his arm away and tugging your shirt down for you. It was the least he could do.

Returning his arm to your now clothed waist, his finger traced smooth patterns along your back. He swallowed his gasp of surprise when you buried your face in the crook of his neck.

"It's okay,” your words vibrated against his shoulder, “I don't mind."

He hummed a soft acknowledgement and was pleased when you made no move to disentangle yourself. The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a golden glow on the peaceful bubble. Nature's symphony of birdsong and distant traffic provided a gentle soundtrack as he let himself slowly wake up. As the fog of sleep lifted, Viktor became acutely aware of the pain creeping back into his body, the ache in his joints and the tightness of his back. Still, his head felt clearer than it had in months, the persistent headache reduced to a dull throb rather than the usual stabbing agony. He felt…rested. Truly rested, in a way he hadn't experienced in years.

Much too soon, your alarm clock shattered the serene atmosphere and worsened his headache.

You groaned as you slowly peeled yourself off of him and Viktor resisted the urge to grab your hips and pull you back into his arms. With a sigh, you slapped the top of the alarm clock aimlessly, finally hitting the off button and ending its incessant beeping.

Flopping onto your back, you turned to look at him, a soft, warm smile spreading across your face. The morning light caught in your tousled hair, creating a halo effect that made you look almost ethereal. Your eyes, still heavy-lidded with sleep, held a tenderness that made his heart stutter in his chest.

By the Gods, you were beautiful. Not in the polished, artificial way of Piltover's elite, but in a way that was uniquely, breathtakingly you. It was beyond his ability to describe, so he didn’t try.

Viktor's fingers twitched with the desire to trace the curve of your jaw, to tangle in your hair and draw you close. He imagined pressing his forehead against yours, breathing the same air, whispering all the words he'd kept locked away for so long.

But he couldn't. He wouldn't risk ruining this, whatever this was between you. So instead, he returned your smile with a small one of his own, hoping it conveyed even a fraction of the warmth he felt.

“You look like you slept well,” you teased, your smile tilting into a lopsided grin.

"You say that like it’s a good thing but it seems more like an insult to me." He patted at his hair, an attempt to flatten it that was doomed to fail from the beginning.

You giggled, a wonderous sound he would never tire of hearing, and sat up in bed. Before he had time to avert his gave, you’d stretched your arms over your head and you squeezed your eyes shut. Did you realize how your thin shirt plastered itself against your body, giving him a clear view of all your soft curves?

He cleared his throat, finding great interest in staring at the wall across the room, ignoring the blush that tinted his cheeks. Out of the corner of his vision, he saw your blush match his when you realized exactly what had just happened.

"I'm going to get ready," you announced shakily. With a quick swivel, you got out of bed and picked your clothes out of the closet, all while keeping your back to Viktor. Not that he minded, necessarily, but there was something about your reddened cheeks that captivated him entirely. "I'll meet you in the lab with breakfast?"

"Grab me a sweet milk and carrot muffin if they have it?"

“I’ll do my best!”

As you fled to the bathroom, Viktor found his voice once more. "Thank you, Mila." You turned back around to peek at him from around the door, adorable in your embarrassment. "I feel much better, you were right after all."

You smiled softly at him. "You should come back tonight," you said before hastily adding, "but only if you want to, of course."

He wanted nothing more, but did you? He swung his legs over the side of the bed, the sunlight streaming through the window illuminating his soft brown hair. "Are you sure? I don’t wish to impose any more than I already have."

You shook your head. “I don’t like sleeping alone, you’re not the only one who benefits.”

He smiled, bright and unburdened. Why had he doubted you? It seemed silly now when you regarded him with such bashful hope. You cared for him as he cared for you, didn’t you? “Then I suppose we have a deal.”

A/N: Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed the second Viktor's POV <3 Sadly, the arcane hyperfixation has left me, but when it comes back, I'm sure you'll definitely see more of these two! For now, I must let the writing demons out in my Dragon Age fic - time to terrorize another fandom!

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