Being a newbie at video game RPGs, I never knew you could get your heart broken by a video game character... I had to process my feelings the way any nerd does: with comics and fanfiction.
Twigs Lavellan stood on the ramparts for some time, feeling the impact of the Seeker’s words. The wind ruffled her silky chestnut hair and chilled her narrow elven shoulders. She had an inkling of Cassandra’s feelings and had anticipated this outcome, but she hadn’t known it would hurt so much.
I could throw myself from the battlements, she mused. But then who would lead the Inquisition? She could not consider such a selfish act. I may be a bumbling fool, but I am the bumbling fool that Thedas needs right now.
As the late afternoon grew colder, Twigs found her feet and went back inside the keep, finding herself in Grand Enchanter Vivienne’s lofted study.
“Any chance you and I might…” the dainty elf’s lilting voice stumbled through one of the most awkward romantic overtures Vivienne had ever heard. Entertaining as it was to watch such an exquisitely formed idiot suffer so nakedly in front of her, the Grand Enchanter had to put her out of her misery.
“Oh darling, don’t be ridiculous. What use could you possibly be to me?”
Twigs rolled one of her slim brown ankles on the stairs beating a hasty retreat from Madame De Fer’s study. Limping, she made her way to Solas’s Fade-a-torium and addressed the elven mage.
“I’d like to know more about you, Solas,” she began, fixing him with her sparkling amber eyes. This time she would not be so forward. She sat down at the table.
“Perhaps you would like to know about my travels in the Fade. Let me tell you about a spirit I met while in a village in the Free Marches…”
Half an hour later, Twigs lifted her finely boned chin from the table and shook her head. Had she fallen asleep?
“I’m glad you find my stories so riveting, Inquisitor,” Solas intoned reproachfully. “By your leave. I have work to do.”
Feeling utterly dejected, Twigs ventured out into the Frostbacks for a walk. Some solitude out in nature would do her good, she thought. As she rounded a turn in the mountain path, a plaintive squealing cry reached her gracefully pointed ears. Searching for the source of the sound, her eyes lit upon a young nug on a mountain ledge about ten feet above her. The poor animal was pacing and trying desperately to scramble back up the rock face from whence it had fallen.
“I know what that’s like, little friend,” said Twigs knowingly.
With a soft voice, Twigs calmed the little nug as she hopped from ledge to ledge to reach it. What was a treacherous distance for the small animal was no trouble at all for the elf. She climbed back down one-handed, cradling the nug in the crook of her slender arm.
In gratitude, the nug happily nuzzled her luminous skin, smearing it with a mixture of snot and saliva.
“You won’t step on my heart, will you, little nug?” asked Twigs. It was a rhetorical question. The nug would now follow its savior anywhere.
In the following months, the Inquisitor would defect from the army she had built, retreating to a cabin in the deep Fereldan woodlands. The Inquisition defeated Corypheus and the archdemon, but not without significant casualties. Their resources completely expended and forces all but decimated by the end, the Inquisition was forced to disband. Had the legendary idiot Twigs Lavellan stayed, things might have been different.
As for the former leader of the Inquisition, she was last seen buying nug feed in bulk from Fereldan merchants and wearing a jerkin with three nugs and a moon emblazoned upon it. Accompanying her were sixteen nugs in all sizes, including an enormous nug the size of a horse. Inquiries were made as to the beautiful elf’s health and happiness; at this time she is “JUST FINE, THANK YOU,” and single.