Ok this got suuuuuuper long and sad so I’m going to drop it under a cut!! This kind of got away from me but Wend is very inquisitive by nature and almost every one of her lines of dialogue is a question..
This recounts the reason Wend runs away from Clan Lavellan at 16. (NSFW) (tw abuse)
Quidnunc (One who always has to know what is going on.)
It was a quiet morning, punctuated by soft, infrequent showers that came and went with the breeze, something she would typically have loved to sleep to… but she had been up for hours, hands working the wood she had found while walking in the forest the other day. She was going to make it into a bow, she thought determinedly, the line between her brows deepening, whether Keeper Deshanna and the clan’s craftswoman believed she could or not. She had been watching Master Olanna these long years, and knew the process, now she just needed to… apply it.
A twig snapped behind her, and her hand had already flown to the dagger on her belt before her body had half-turned to see what had snapped it. The First held up his hands in supplication, allowing a grin to drape itself like a luxuriating cat across his impeccable features.
“My, Wend,” he said, and she noticed the way the water droplets danced in the air around him, repelled by an invisible shield of energy, “but you look beautiful this morning.” He shuffled closer to her, coming under the awning of the aravel and letting his magical defence drop.
She let out a slow sigh, unsure of what to think or how to respond. It had been so long since she’d actually been invited into a conversation by someone, not just given an order or issued a command… What was he doing? her hand tightened on the hilt of her dagger, Trying to get her guard down? She realised what she was doing and forced her hand to her side, palm rubbing against the chainmail she had bought off of a travelling merchant she’d encountered on the edge of the forest. The cold metal served to ground her and helped her flex the muscles of her hand, tight from whittling. She realised her other hand still clenched her makeshift bow and loosened her hold, letting it drop to the table before clapping her hands together to get the wood dust off.
“What’s that?” He asked, seemingly unperturbed by her silence as he gestured to it.
“I'm…” her eyes trailed over her shoulder to look at her bow. She had been spending so long on the details, lost in time, she hadn’t even realised she’d carved the entire pantheon into the wood of it. Ghilan'nain, running within a herd of halla, chased by the Dread Wolf, who was being hunted by Andruil… They were all there: Elgar'nan haloed by the sun, Falon'Din, Dirthamen, Sylaise, June, Mythal presiding over it all as the moon poised in the heavens. Even the Forbidden Ones lurked in the wood, darkening the inward bend. “Working on it.” She concluded abruptly, deciding words weren’t necessary. He could see what it was, couldn’t he? Why was he here?
She looked back at him suspiciously, dragging her eyes to take in the rest of the clan, some of who were only now appearing, bleary eyed at the mouths of their aravels. Suddenly another pair of eyes glanced against hers, silver and gold striking against a dark yet vivid green as Keeper Deshanna watched them from afar. Her expression was inscrutable, her hands fixed in frozen concentration as she worked on a spell. Wend withdrew her gaze, looking back at him and his ridiculous smile.
“I can see that,” he grinned, and he leaned against her aravel, right over the new paintings she’d only recently completed.
“Look, ah…” she bit her lip and he started forward, hands wrapping smugly around the staff in his hands, “Delial, is it?” As if she didn’t know. Every girl in the clan, and some from others, offered themselves to him, hoping to snare the one who would one day be Keeper himself. it didn’t hurt that he was incandescently beautiful, every features chiselled as if by a master’s hand. It didn’t hurt that he was known to be charming, or that he’d listen with rapt attention to every girl who paid him compliments, never turning anyone away, giving all an equal chance to impress him. Every girl touted him as her very own, and the time was almost upon him to actually make the decision- an announcement was said to be planned for the next Arlathvenn, only three weeks away.
“Listen, I’m… rather busy, as you can see,” she laughed, made nervous by the way he wouldn’t stop looking at her with those eyes, and his hand flicked out to wipe a trail of rain that ran down her cheek. “I-” her breath paused in her lungs, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been touched by someone else. She swallowed, hoping words would come, “I-”
“Would you walk with me? I love the rain, and it’s well-known that you do too…” His eyes darted towards the camp, and she followed his gaze as he continued, “I’d like to get away from here for a while…” More than a few had noticed the attention he was paying her. Deshanna now watched with both brows raised, the downturned corner of her mouth all that marked her disapproval.
Wend laughed again, unsure as she stared out into the unforgiving weather. “It’s a little cold to get soaked through, don’t you think?” She’d seen what he could do, but doubted whether he could extend his barrier to protect her from the rain as well.
“That’s simple,” he replied, slipping his arm around her waist, his lips were hypnotically close as he spoke. “As long as we’re touching, you’re safe.”
Wend hazarded one last glance at her Keeper. Well, if she disapproved, why not? She nodded, offering an attempt at a smile to his too-close face. He stepped back out into the rain, hand sliding to link with hers, his magic snapping into place around them. She felt it like a hum against her skin, almost unpleasant. She’d have preferred the way the rain hit her, miniature explosions, the feel of the cold against hot flesh, but it was too late to say anything.
She tucked a strand behind her ear nervously, gesturing to the woods with her chin. “Where to?” she gulped, trying to cover the sudden roughness of her voice with a cough.
“Just follow me,” he winked, and she wondered where in creation he could take her she hadn’t already been. His treks into the woods were… infrequent at best, nigh nonexistent at worst. He was the First, cosseted and kept close to home at all times, watched and protected. She was a huntress- she practically lived out here. She knew where the clearing was where you could see all the way to the horizon, perfect for watching sunsets, she knew where all of the animals went to drink, where the vines had grown to cover a decrepit statue of Falon'Din, pointed finger guiding you through the forest. She knew every nook, every cranny. He knew… ah, the river. The river where they bathed and got their water. Well, he had only said he’d wanted to get away, not far away.
“Do you know you are easily the most beautiful girl in our clan?” He queried, turning to her as his thumb slipped to circle her pulse.
She stepped back, breaking the connection his touch created, magic rising off her skin and causing a reflexive shiver to ripple through her. “I’m-” she swallowed, try again, “sorry?”
He reclaimed her hand, magic settling uncomfortably on top of the droplets that had met her skin in the interim. “You heard me,” and one of his hands rose to cup her cheek. She shied away, unsure of how to proceed in this situation. He stepped closer, breath mingling with hers, “You are beautiful.” He told her, enunciating each word carefully. It was only after reflection that she realised he had spoken it in elvhen.
She stepped away from him, unable to dislodge his hand from hers or hide the blush that crept upon her at such a compliment, at such closeness shared with another. “Thank you,“ she whispered, trembling despite the magic.
“You’re cold,” he remarked, noticing the quiver he alone had started, knowing full-well it had nothing to do with the weather. “Come here,” he commanded.
Willing or not, he pulled her into his embrace, circling protective arms around her waist as magic washed over her body. Warmth resonated from him, cloaking her, filling her, and she sighed before letting herself burrow deeper into his embrace. He smiled against her neck. Maybe she had been cold, but she was not cold now.
“Wh-” she started breathlessly, trying to push away, “What are you doing?” His hands had snaked down her back to grip the curve of her backside.
He chuckled, “Why do you always have to know everything?” And then he kissed her. It was rough, insistent, and… her first. She had no other kisses to measure it against, and as his hand slipped beneath the hem of her pants to grip her even more closely, her gasp granted him further access. His tongue circled hers, dancing against the sensitive skin of her mouth and sending waves of pleasure through her body. But before she had even settled he withdrew from her, leaving her breathless and blushing, to stare at him as he stepped back and smiled like a cat at a canary.
“I’ll see you back at camp,” he purred, leaving her in cold confusion, wrinkling her brow at his abrupt retreat. She clasped herself tight. His sudden absence had left her genuinely cold and she rubbed her arms, the weak magic seeping from her palms not nearly enough to keep the chill at bay as his had- she envied him that. She continued rubbing though, both for warmth and to bring her back to herself, wishing she could answer one simple question… What the hell had just happened?
—————-
These visits continued, separated by longer and longer intervals until she was ravenous for his attentions. Every morning she awoke to thoughts of him, every evening she hoped he would take her hand and drag her out to the woods again. Which he did… but only when it suited him. As the First he was often busy, true, but not that busy.
Deshanna had been working to select the hunters she would send to gather food for the feasts they would share with the other clans at the upcoming Arlathvenn, surprising her when she called to her from across the camp, motioning for her to come talk to her.
“I’ve chosen you to go with the others, rahn'dys… This is a chance for you to show you’re serious about the success of this clan.” Deshanna’s smile didn’t reach her eyes, and Wend felt like she knew she was taking something she wanted and twisting it to her own purposes. The Hunt was usually reserved for the elder hunters, those who had demonstrated their skill over countless years, proving themselves worthy of the week-long excursion. Of course she wanted to go, but this was a shock.
Wend watched as confusion settled over Delial’s gorgeous features as well, heard his whispered inquiry of Why would you send one so young?
“She always tells me how capable she is.” The Keeper’s eyes shifted to her, “Time she was put to a real test.” Delial’s sour look of contempt set Wend’s stomach turning, but the heat in his gaze when he laid his eyes upon her strengthened her resolve. He made a discreet gesture, beckoning her to follow him as soon as Deshanna’s back was turned. She complied, slipping into the shadows beyond the Keeper’s aravel, almost yelping when he dragged her close, his lips cloying, his breath hot like air from a forge. She felt his magic tighten around her wrist, clinging to her skin even after she moved her hand to rub it away.
She broke free, pressing against him. “What is this??”
“To make you come back to me,” he said, kissing the exposed flesh of her wrist where the conjured bracelet glistened in the soft light. Her brows drew together and he sighed. “Think of it as… a kind of protection.” And then he was on her again, one hand dipping down the front of her pants, fingers surprising her when he slipped them within. She moaned against him, coming up for air, and he withdrew his hand, leaving her to stand there in shock, bereft of him once more.
—————-
They were gone for over a week, but they had caught more than enough, double what they’d expected. The elders commended her prowess, and for once she felt almost like she belonged to these people, this clan, as if they were on the verge of finally accepting her, the girl who’d come to them in the arms of a travelling minstrel, wrapped in spare scarves and still smelling of her mother’s blood.
The night they returned, Delial was nowhere to be found. Her eyes scanned the people, who came to take loads and carry them away to storage, but he was not among them. She knew not to ask, for Deshanna had made no secret of her disapproval - which the clan no doubt shared; their precious First couldn’t be seen beside a foundling, an orphan, rahn'dys. She had never been cherished, no, she would never be good enough. Damn them all.
After searching the camp thoroughly, she decided he might be out in the woods, at the spot she had shown him during their second walk. A grotto, created by two trees growing together, veiled in vines. No one would find them there without knowing where to look. Maybe he had gone to practice the spells he was always creating. The bracelet still glistened on her skin, but now it seemed weighty, pulling her toward the woods. She felt it tugging her, inescapable, each tug tightening against her skin, rushing her forward. Towards him. So this is what he meant by it. As expected, when she eagerly twisted between the intertwining trunks into their place, he was there waiting for her.
“I heard your party return… I’m not a patient man,” he gestured to the bracelet.
“I see- well, it’s a little tight, could you…?” It was more than that, the magic was digging painfully into her skin, something he seemed nonchalant about. He negated the spell with an easy snap of his fingers.
“It brought you back to me, didn’t it?” He drew close to her, hands on either side of her face as if he was memorising it. She was still clutching the sore skin of her wrist, but when his lips met hers she forgot.
She forgot more and more of herself as the world shifted around her, not realising that it was him lying her back until he pulled away, unbuckling his belt and then coming back to lay heavy lips along her stomach where her shirt and pants didn’t quite meet. His hand edged the rough fabric of her shirt further up until he reached the band over her breasts. She shivered under his attentions, lifting her hips against him so her back rose enough for him to unwind it. He lost patience halfway through, resorting to magic to tear it off instead, then fell on her, mouth seeking, circling one nipple and then the other. She gasped, hands rising to bury themselves in his hair, hips dropping as she lost control of her body. His hands jerked her hips back into place against him, his own hips grinding against her. She stopped breathing as she felt him for the first time, throbbing against his robes between her legs. His breath hitched and he snapped, divulging her of her shirt, fingers hooking into her hem and dragging her pants to her ankles, not even stopping to take them off completely before her freed himself from the rest of his own clothes.
He took her mercilessly, her cry of shock muffled by his hungry lips, teeth biting into her, leaving her mouth bloody. Her fingers dug beneath his shoulder blades, thumbs tracing his sides as he ravished her. His need wasn’t gentle, but she tried to move her body to work through it. After a minute more of his incessant grunts, pounding into her like he would never get another chance, he released a roar of satisfaction, slumping over her.
She sighed, part of her glad it was over. She felt certain that this would leave her aching for days, and the fleeting pleasure she had felt a few times had never built to anything more. He pulled out of her, reaching for his clothes and fastening his belt before he’d even settled everything properly into place. He tossed her clothes at her, urging her to dress as well. She put her hand upon his arm, trying to still him enough to lay her lips against his for a moment. He only laughed, ducking his head to finish tying things up and running his fingers through his hair before he twisted out of their enclosure.
She stared after him, unsure of the whole experience, a pang in her heart echoing the one between her legs. She got dressed and, slowly, because her muscles were unsteady and everything was sore, she made her way to camp.
She wondered if she looked dishevelled and ran a quick hand through her silver locks, trying not to appear conspicuous. Her eyes swept the people there, seeking him and finding him by Deshanna’s side. The Keeper was going over something animatedly, and although Wend silently begged Delial to look at her, he spared her not a glance. She watched instead, heading with heavy steps to her aravel, as Deshanna presented him with new robes to wear to the Arlathvenn. It was perfectly acceptable for her dote upon him so publicly. He was her son, after all.
Wend ducked into her aravel, too much in shock to consider doing anything else. She stripped down, drawing a cloth through the water in a bowl at her desk and running it over her body before she wrapped herself in the softest thing she owned and lowered herself to lay beneath her painted constellations.
—————–
It had been a week, and Wend hadn’t been able to get him alone. Her hopes that he would seek her out himself had died one by one. What confused her most was she couldn’t guess what he was thinking. Usually she was pretty perceptive. This, though… he’d left her in the dark. So she decided tonight she would find a way to confront him, hoping that it was all some misunderstanding, that he could explain it all away, make everything alright again.
She followed him away from the Keeper’s aravel as he walked towards the communal fire, hooking her arm through his and dragging him against a stack of firewood before she released him.
“Delial,” she nervously twisted one strand of hair around a finger, “we haven’t talked, I-”
He laughed when he saw it was her, the sound deep and sickening, sending chills down her spine, then raised a hand to cut her off, a haughty expression upon his too-perfect features. “There’s nothing to talk about. I took what I wanted, rahn-dys, and now you’ve given me all you have to give.” What chilled her was that he was speaking with the same voice he’d used to tell her he wanted her all those times before. He leaned close, and despite her new knowledge of his character she ached to close the space between them. His eyes swept her cruelly before continuing, making her feel transparent, found wonting. “The only thing of value you had to give,” he sneered, turning away as her cheeks burned with shame.
She stood in the shadows, numb, long moments passing before a decision struck her. She spun, marching to her aravel, beginning to pack a bag. She didn’t know why she’d hung around so long – simply because she was unsure about the world beyond these woods? No more. She had to leave, not tonight, but soon… The night of the Arlathvenn! Perfect. When no one would be watching her, when everyone would be distracted by far grander things. She filled a small bag, discreet in size so it wouldn’t raise any alarms.
Sincechildhood she had been attempting to run away, never getting far,usually going only as far as the edge of the woods, where she wouldlive quite happily until a search party came to drag her back. Theclanspeopleknew to keep a close eye on her comings and goings - theydidn’t want to have to spare the extra time and energy for anothersearch party, afterall - but,and despite the new ache in her heart she smiled, the Arlathvennwould provide the perfect cover for her final escape.
—————
The night sheleft and never looked back,Delialannounced his engagement to a girl from another clan. She bit herlip, bitterly reflecting on her foolishness, and swore to herselfthat forever,no matter what, she would never be so foolish again.
littleblue-eyedbird answered your ask “In canon she ends up with Cullen after Solas' hesitation about the...”
Yes, unfortunately he is in too deep - you see, he’s already commited to her in his heart, but the way he holds himself back from showing it... With the way Wend has lived her life, she has no room for hesitation, and the fact that he has to “think about it” - and then, in my headcanons, continues to push her away when things get too real - even thought his reasons are good - it’s all a huge red flag for her. So when Cullen, although hesitant in telling her how he feels, has no qualms about showing her, she’s sold. So canon Wend ducks the bullet, but AU!Wend gets it square in the heart. I cry real tears for her, and all Lavellans who romance Solas :’(
y'know whenever I see those cullen-as-the-right-hand fan arts or headcanons, it just hits me how wend would SO be the left hand in that case and just....... the irony
Wend Lavellan is officially a rogue, but secretly a mage. She discovered she had a tiny bit of magical talent while still a child, but kept it from her clan because they were mildly abusive towards her, and Cullen is the first person she ever tells, although she waits until after the defeat of Corypheus. It's just the tiniest bit, though- if she had been brought up in a CIrcle, she probably would have been made tranquil.
Gah! (╥_╥) All of that headcanon is so sad; poor thing. Why would she have been made tranquil?
Ashanna doesn’t like being around tranquil; she pities them and is glad to give them a place in the Inquisition, with but her whole life since her magic first manifested she was told if she was caught by templars they’d make her tranquil. That was just what they do to Dalish mages, she was told.
It’s an uncomfortable reminder of what she could have been if she had a moment of carelessness around the wrong humans.
iloveyouprincemuttonchops replied to your post “Tell me about your OCs!”
I'd imagine my Tirnel Lavellan never had cake when she lived with her clan and now stocks up every time they go to Val Royxeau. She probably put on at least 20 pounds since the beginning of the game haha.
omg yes, lol. before the conclave wend was a wandering adventuress who barely got enough food to keep herself alive most days, so there was definitely weight gain on her end as well!
I’m sorry but my biggest problem with the Trespasser trailer is that for some reason we’re on Ferelden’s bad side!?? I mean, I didn’t make Alistair king in my playthroughs, but even imagining a world where he’s not getting along with my Inquisitor is unacceptable. What possible reason could Ferelden have for not liking the Inquisition?? We literally saved the world, and I know my Inquisitor isn’t going around overstepping any boundaries.
The only thing Wend Lavellan has been doing for the past two years is trying to live as peaceful a life as possible, dealing with any trouble that crops up. By now she’s closed nearly all the rifts, but occasionally some reports will come in from remote locations and she’ll venture out to deal with it. No big battles anymore, but sometimes she’ll stumble upon a dragon. She always brings Bull for those fights. And maybe, maybe, depending on whether or not she survives the DLC (because I would prefer it happen a bit after 2 years), she’s stumbled upon a random baby in some sacked town or something and brought it home to Cullen. But nothing to incite the disfavour of King Alistair/Queen Anora!! These are the thoughts that race through my mind…. smh.
you see, bioware, wend lavellan can’t die because she has yet to meet the hero of ferelden and they must meet before one of them dies because of reasons i have yet to release to the public in fanfic form, i’m sure you understand, now get those crazy notions out of your head and kindly focus on bringing the HoF back, thanks
