Fandom: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Rating: T
Characters/relationships: Sera/Kinara Trevelyan
Warnings: Swearing, canon-typical racism (because Orlais). Weaponized verbose language. Sappiness?
Summary:
The noble people of Orlais are scandalized by the Inquisitor marrying an elf in the middle of Halamshiral. Trevelyan quickly realizes she made a huge mistake and scrambles to fix it.
OR:
A very long-winded way to make a joke.
It's a brilliant day, really. Somehow, she feels happier than the day the Breach was sealed. Well, perhaps not "somehow". Those days were more of a relief, an uncertainty, licking their wounds and celebrating survival with the ever-present troubling thought of things yet to come on the horizon.
Today, though? Oh, let the things come. Let the Council begin, let her hand hurt, let absolutely whatever happen. She doesn't care. She loves the blue sky, she's suddenly much less annoyed by the very Orlesian architecture around her, she doesn't mind the stiff collar of her jacket. Her mind is gently buzzing from the wine, but it's the other thing that sends her head positively spinning. She's fucking married. Sure, she had to bend some laws and misconceptions - not without the Divine's help, bless Leliana's heart, - but who cares. As her wife - her WIFE - tactfully put it... She's the Inquisitor. Who's gonna tell her "no"? And oh, for as much as she hated her title over these years, right now she doesn't mind being the scary Herald of Andraste. Screw it, her head is so full of sheer joy bursting from the seams, she's almost ready to start liking Orlesians for the evening.
"Excuse me, Your Worship, if I might have a word?"
Ah. Scratch that, actually. Trevelyan immediately decides that she's not in the mood to have any words with posh Orlesian lords in the ever-present masks. Doesn't matter how polite this one is. All of them are sickeningly polite. And she, sadly, has arrived here precisely to talk to them. A lot. Not today, though. Today she'd like to continue staring at the sky wistfully and get absolutely drunk on wine and the glee of having what she was never supposed to have (not like this, anyway). And then go find her wife among their celebrating friends and perhaps whisk her away to do some things very, very unbecoming of someone of her allegedly religious status. She still remembers that one time a researcher told her the Chantry had considered its Inquisitors celibate and Sera almost died from laughing.
Alas, the damn polite guy in a mask is still standing in front of her.
Go get swallowed by a rift, she thinks.
"Of course, my lord", she says. With a perfect smile, slightly swirling wine in the glass she's holding. Oh, she's gotten so good at this social game. Her parents would be proud. The thought makes her sick.
"Out of position of pure allyship and support", the man says, unaware of the fact that she's currently imagining him being stabbed in multiple creative ways, "I wanted to inquire if you're quite aware of how many...ahem...social norms you are breaking by your current display".
She keeps her smile impossibly charming. Eyes kind, or at least equally polite. Squeezes the stem of the glass ever-so-tightly with her fingers.
"I'm afraid you'll need to be a bit more specific," she says, now mentally feeding him to Corypheus' late dragon.
The man clears his throat. His language is sort of flowery, attempting to conceal the true harshness of what he means to say, and her tipsy brain is very quickly tired of following. But regardless of how many words she omits, she hears his meaning rather well.
"I'm sure you must be aware that in lieu of the current...political implications over marquise Briala...in which you, of course, played a part...not to mention the rumors of the late Empress and...plus the recent scientific research in the matter of...that's been mercilessly silenced and shunned despite having quite the support in certain circles... A public union like this seems to be a feat of ignorance at best, and an act of purposeful challenge or even offense to Orlais' history and culture at worst... I'm just relaying some concerns to you, Inquisitor. Not many will say it to your face, preferring to let the scandal unfold, so consider this a favor. A whim like this might prove unwise, considering your current position being put in question already at this very Council."
"Is that a threat, my lord?" She asks, keeping her tone light, but slowly letting the smile slip away. She wants to bare her teeth and let the Anchor flare, hell, she could open a temporary rift even, but she steels herself. That won't help anybody.
He chuckles.
"The court has seen first hand what happens to those that threaten you, Inquisitor. Just a warning from a friend."
A friend. You come to me on the day of my wedding, you fucker...
She takes a deep breath, almost resigned to wave off the ugly concerns and then continue to do so for the rest of her married life, because she truly couldn't care less for their opinions. But then she raises her eyes to look a bit over his shoulder, just in time to catch a movement of white further down the hall. Sera is busy, deep in a conversation with Thom, but Trevelyan does catch her ears slightly twitching and a telltale agitated fidgeting of hands.
Blasted elven hearing.
Well, scratch that again! She cares a lot, actually. She looks at the man in front of her and stops childishly entertaining bloody thoughts of his murder in her mind, instead opting for direct action.
...
Inquisitor breaks out in a huge, thankful smile that almost splits her scarred cheeks in half. If one didn't know better, they'd think she's about to hug the thoughtful messenger in front of her.
"I shall be forever in your debt, my lord," she says, slipping into the same verbose pattern of speech effortlessly. "You're completely right, of course; I indeed failed to consider Orlais' historical and cultural circumstances, as well as the unfortunate misunderstandings that may arise from my actions. Of course, marrying someone of elven blood in Halamshiral of all places," she's pretty sure the irony would swish over his head even if she could have literal venom dripping from her lips — as long as it's what they want to hear, right? "...without properly considering the consequences and rumors was a huge mistake. In fact, I think I shall address it right away!"
She passes the man her glass. Or more like shoves it into his hands in a motion so confident he hardly gets to refuse. After all, isn't he glad to see her so inspired to amend her reckless behavior?
"Would you hold this for me? Since I made no announcement of the ceremony beyond my personal circle, I'm sure I am to understand that this friendly warning is inspired by the crowd that is currently gathered around, isn't that right?"
She figured that them yelling from the balcony to the joyful melody of church bells would gather some attention, that was the whole point. Haven't expected the rumor mill to work that fast, however. Ah, well. This is Orlais. Her bad.
The man, somewhat stunned by the passionate reaction, instinctively takes the offered glass and nods, if a bit reluctantly.
She nods back to him with the utmost seriousness she's actually not even mocking, adjusts her collar and, after a slight consideration of her options, hops onto the balcony's banister, briefly stabilizing herself with a hand on an ornate column. All the eyes in the outer courtyard are immediately on her, but she does raise her voice substantially anyway, to make sure she's heard. Far, far and wide. Let it ring and echo off the walls. It's a grand apologetic proclamation, after all. A repentance, if you will.
"Ladies and lords of Orlais! It has come to my attention that I've made a tragic mistake. By not properly taking into account the history, views and believes of this Empire of which the Inquisition is, of course, but a humble guest of, I've risked presenting an incorrect version of myself and my intentions. I've brashly ignored your culture, your science, and, of course, your social etiquette and left this fact utterly unaddressed. This is an oversight that I'd like to amend."
There's an approving hum from the crowd. From up here, they look like stupid cupcakes with way too much whipped cream. All puffed up and expensive and full of themselves, ready to show generous understanding to the marcher and her silly rabbit-marrying whims.
She takes a deep breath, her face serious and somber.
"So here and now, as the Inquisitor and the Herald of Andraste, by the power granted to me by this mark which I didn't ask for and these honorary titles given to me for saving you all from certain death..."
She solemnly nods.
"I'm sorry."
And then adds immediately, without missing a bit:
"...to inform you that I have no regrets at all. Moreover, I don't care. J'en ai rien à fuck-que, if you will. So anyone who has any problems, questions, comments or concerns with or about my marriage and who I chose to love..."
She swings her arms open wide to add more weight to the statement and says loudly, merrily, with her full chest:
"...is cordially invited to eat my entire ass!"
In a momentary stunned silence she pointedly raises up an index finger:
"Except not literally!"
And then she bites out with a bright toothy smile and extreme satisfaction she cannot conceal anymore:
"'Cause that's my wife's property."
With full on grin she swings her arm dramatically, as if an actor about to take a bow on the stage: “Thank you for your attention, I'll be here the whole Council!" — and then jumps back down from the banister.
Returning to the man from earlier, who is thankfully finally rendered speechless, she gracefully snatches her glass back from his hand and gives him a smile both disarming and lethal at the same time:
"I believe that should clear it all up sufficiently." She raises the glass at him. "Good day to you".
After she rounds up a corner, she finds both Sera and Rainier barely standing on their feet from laughing. Particularly Sera, who bursts out full on howling from laughter upon seeing Trevelyan appear and basically throws herself at her, hugging her impossibly tight and burying her face in the Inquisitor's formal coat.
"Josie is going to friggin' murder you," she breathlessly snickers into the fabric and her Inky shrugs, throwing back the rest of the wine and blindly reaching to rest the glass on the nearest horizontal surface and free both of her hands to hug Sera back. One of her favorite things to do, hugging her, filed right under kissing and some more private stuff. She just fits in so nicely in Trevelyan's arms, so easy to hold close to her heart and stay like that until one of them gets restless.
"Oh, definitely. Unfortunately, I'm either too happy or too drunk to care."
The sun, now just starting to set, warms up her back and lights everything up in the brightest yellows and oranges. Sera, gathering herself a bit from the laughter, straightens up and meets her at her eye level - Kinara was never very tall, and Sera probably has almost half an inch over her despite the stereotypes. And she loves it. The flower crown someone placed on Sera's head in the midst of the celebration is sitting a little crooked on the unevenly chopped hair, and the early sunset hues make her freckles stand out more so than usual. She has tears in her eyes from laughing, but also, Trevelyan knows, perhaps a little bit from the sheer whiplash she probably gave her by that speech. Not that any other outcome to that debacle was possible, really. What, that she would go along with their bullshit? As fucking if.
And if Sera still has any doubts in her mind over just how much she is loved, because let's be honest, those are hard to ditch, well, then the Inquisitor just has more rooftops to scream her love from, doesn't she? The woman has the audacity to giggle at her, now, and oh Maker, how could she ever choose any of them, any of that social or political crap, anything at all in this blasted world over this? Over her? It feels like Trevelyan is going to burst if she doesn't kiss her right the frig now, so she does. Can't even get too indecent with it, too damn giddy again. But it's okay, because they are giggling together, like the sappiest, mushiest idiots ever. "Probably both," she whispers, finishing the previous thought, before kissing her wife again.
And if anyone still dares to have a problem with it, well. They can choke on her middle finger, for all she cares.