#but by the time you're in act 3 and would decimate everything she has grown enough that there... need not even be any killing

[invinciblerodent]

I've been kinda thinking about character motivations, and reasons for decisions made in each playthrough all day, and I think the core of Iona's personal narrative is finally starting to expose itself to me, which is neat.

Like... while Arvid's arc is overall about him balancing the divine with the mundane, and learning to make decisions with his own needs in mind occasionally, Iona's is shaping up to be one of... the continual challenging of long-held beliefs, and picking through her own survival tactics like she's unpicking a big, painful knot in one's hair that's tugging at the skin. Her story is kind of looking like it's about finding the line between what's true, and what was merely said enough times to start sounding like the truth- about what even the liar was lied to, basically.

From the beginning, when she's outed as specifically not a by-choice magic user, but a magical being, one with living sorcery in her veins, to her vehemently anti-magic community their warmth turns instantly to cold steel (even running to her husband for help and comfort only to meet scorn, rejection, and pain), she has had to constantly challenge herself, and try to find just how much of her view of the world was grounded in common sense, and how much of it is just... common nonsense.

It kind of works out beautifully that the first people she breaks bread with in the game are a guarded and jumpy young woman who is 100% lying to her (yeah, turns out she's an ardent worshipper of a dark, forbidden goddess), and a handsome, if foppish, city-type fellow, who only suspends his bristling about roughing it long enough to lay on the charm extra thick and obvious (whoops, a vampire- someone she would have ordinarily believed to be a mindless monster at that point).

Over and over in the story, Iona seems to have to completely reevaluate all the things she thinks she knows. Everything, from her idea of what a monster is, to where the line between morality, justice, and ruthless self-interest lies, to what love is and looks like (is it a contract? a mutually beneficial transaction? something different and delicate and precious and entirely new?), is constantly being challenged, and since the factors doing the challenging seem immutable, it has to be her who does the changing.

In the beginning portions of act 2, she was a little... noncommittal, about the whole ascension thing. Sure, in act 1 she was fully in favor of upending Cazador's whole schtick (in a "cool plan my guy, godspeed, have fun with that, glad that's not my mess to clean up" kind of way), and this thing, while literally diabolical, it was easy enough to see that it'd at least get results. Like, maybe the ends really would justify the means like they so often have so far, and the "number of souls" sacrificed were no more than an abstract that he at least seemed excited about. But meeting Dalyria and Petras (and experiencing that spark of genuine fear of Astarion then), talking to the attacking spawn, that (on top of everything else learned, including the sentience and potential benevolence in mind flayers and all that) is yet another very sharp pivot in her mind that exposes the whole thing for the nakedly amoral action it would really be.

Between that night in the Elfsong, and when we'll finally go to Cazador, she'll be slowly piecing together her thoughts on how much power is it really okay for just one person to take, how much revenge is justified, and at what point does it turn to harmful excess, to evil for its own sake, and there is something... that's imo kind of beautiful about how "not my circus, not my kobolds" turns into "I want you to live a life you can be proud of".

(In my headcanon, after the "the world can be a wonderful, kind place, Astarion, if you find your place in it" line she says in that post-attack callout, there is just a tiny bit of an insert of an expansion: it's just him asking, with an exhale that could pass for amused were it not for the somber look in his eyes, "you really believe that, don't you?" and her responding, with just a hint of a desperate edge, as if uncertain herself, "I have to. Otherwise, what's the point? To all this?")