Hey there, I'm back after sometime. Now the story its going to turn way more into non-canon, so I'm kind of nervous, but I hope you would like.

Byw, this chapter is quite sad, I don't know if I should set some warnings. Please let me know what you think!

When I was 12 years old, my clan was escaping from the Ruin. We were forced to cross through the Korcari Wilds, since the nearby battles had cut off all other alternatives.

My clan was large, but we were mostly children and elders. We knew not everyone would survive, but it was the only option.

We had been on the road for two days when we ran into another group travelling in the area. They were a group of Shemlem soldiers, deserters who had fled the Battle of Ostagar.

There were not many, but they were armed, hungry and desperate. They ordered us to give them our food and tools. They threatened to kill us if we did not.

But in a place like that, without food and tools, death would still be our seemed the only alternative.

But my father, the Keeper of my clan, approached them, trying to reason with them. He was always much more diplomatic than my mother, who wanted to turn them to ashes.

He offered them to travel with us. My father and two other young men were the only hunters in the clan. We could use more hands to defend ourselves.

The soldiers seemed to consider the idea, and after a while, they agreed to travel with us. The clan was not very happy about the company of the Shemlem, but my father was a respected Guardian, and they knew we were in a critical situation. We assumed it would be temporary.

A few days later, I wandered away at night, looking for some elven root. It grows everywhere, but it's always useful to have on hand. My mum had asked me to gather as much as I could, before we went deeper into the Wilds. I was so focused on my task that I didn't even notice how late it was or how far I got from my clan.

By the time I managed to get back, it was already too late.

As soon as I saw the shadows of the flames, I knew that something was wrong. We would never let the flames grow so big, it would have been like a bacon for the wild creatures in the area. But only when I got closer to the aravels, I saw the bodies.

They were all scattered on the ground. All of them, even the children. They raped the women, all of them. No matter how young or old.

I crept silently towards their bodies, trying to see any sign of life. Their corpses lay, still warm, as if life was still leaking from their bodies. And then I found them.

My mom and dad laid on the ground, just outside the aravel we used to sleep in. I think they were attacked by surprise on their way to bed.

I fell to my knees, surrendered by the corpses of every person I had met in my life.

I knew I should have fled, run, hide or something. It wasn't the time to let myself crumble to pieces. If I wanted to survive, my only chance was to leave.

But instead, I wept silently, and I prayed. I prayed as hard as I had ever prayed before. I wished I had the power to kill the soldiers, to make sure they could never harm any elf or anyone else.

I wished I had been stronger, to defend the clan and my family.

And finally, I wished for revenge. Revenge against all shemlem who dared to harm defenceless people, and for, above all, elves.

What happened next was confusing. At one moment I felt small, weak, helpless. Filled with hatred, but also with resignation. I wouldn't stand a chance against the men who slaughtered my entire clan.

But in the blink of an eye, everything changed. By the time I was conscious of my body, I had corpses piling up all around me. I killed each one of the soldiers with my arrows, finished them off with daggers and then set them on fire. It was so fast, they didn't even have a chance to defend themselves. I was a shadow, invisible and lethal.

My body stopped only when I was already surrounded by ashes.

I woke up days later, with crows all around me, feasting on the bodies of my clan and the soldiers.

And then, I ran away.

I ran as far as I could and never looked back.

I didn't understand what had happened. I had only recently discovered my powers, but what was there was far from anything I had ever done or learned. I walked for days until I finally reached the Awakening Sea.

I stayed hidden for weeks, stealing what I could to survive, knowing that it was pointless. Stealing would get me food, but it would take me a long time before I could afford the trip to the Free Marches. As I tried to raise the money to pay for the trip, I had time to think.

I didn't understand what had happened. I thought maybe I had been possessed by a spirit, that I was an abomination and that I wasn't capable of realising it. My father always told me that I would have to learn to defend myself against demons, but he never had time to teach me. I knew I couldn't travel if that was the case - what if the demon takes control again while I was on the boat? I could kill a lot of innocent people and not even realise it. I also didn't know if there was any way to get the demon out of me, even if I managed to find out if there really was something inside me.

I thought about it for days as I wandered around the harbour. It was crowded with refugees, wounded and orphans, elves and humans alike. Who would notice yet another orphaned elf? No one was waiting for me on the other side of the sea.

One night, I was scouring some rubble for valuables when I saw a shemlem woman with a baby in her arms. She was standing on the edge of the pier, looking out over the rocks at the waves. I thought she was looking at the stars and was surprised when she took a step and dropped down.

I ran with the ridiculous illusion of stopping her, but it was too late. Between the darkness and the waves, I couldn't even see a trace. After the initial shock, I understood. She preferred to die by her own hands, rather than see her baby starve to death and feel herself dying. That's when it occurred to me.

Dalish do not accept suicide under any circumstances. There are so few of us left to honour our traditions that every death is a terrible loss. It was said that Falon'din refused to guide the souls of those who dared to take their own lives. I was afraid to die, but even more afraid to live.

So I gathered all the felandris I could find, brewed an infusion and drank it. I used an absurd amount, enough to poison a druffalo. I knew death would be painful and I wanted to make it as quick as possible.

As the poison coursed through my body, I fainted and had a vision. Or rather a dream. I had barely ventured into the Beyond at that age, but it seemed like a different place, maybe a different region I don't know.

While I was there, a voice spoke to me. I saw no face, but I felt its power. It was an ancient voice, full of wisdom and mystery. It spoke to me in a language that sounded like elven, but it sounded so different. They were words I had never heard before, but I could understand them all the same.

I still have my doubts about who she was, but I do not doubt the mission she gave me. That voice gave me the strength to take revenge on those who slaughtered my clan, and I was to give others the strength to take revenge in return. I was to protect and avenge those who were too weak to take revenge into their own hands, as I had been. That was my reason for staying alive, the reason that voice gave me the power to kill those soldiers and escape to the Awakening Sea.

Ar him felassan renan nan. Ar suledin shiral las revasan sulevin la solas.

I shall become the slow arrow, the voice of vengeance. I shall endure the journey that will give me freedom, purpose and pride.

From that day, I became Dirthda. I began slowly, listening to little secrets, revealing little betrayals. One by one, deaths accumulated at my hands.

I infiltrated the elferies. As I had been orphaned as a child, my lack of vallaslin was the perfect disguise. I watched silently, hiding in the shadows. It was not hard to find violent shem, who did not hesitate to prey on helpless elves and humans alike.

I came to the Free Marches, to Kirkwall, and eventually, to the Lavellan clan. I thought it would be a new chance to start over, no secrets, give myself a chance.

But there were already 3 mages in the clan. If I revealed my secret, I would have to leave. I couldn't risk attracting the attention of templars to the clan, not when they were the first people to offer me a home in over 4 years.

Ada was - is - the best thing that could have happened to me. She was my best companion. She was also an orphan from the Ruin, so it was practically like finding a sister.

Although I was 16, in many ways, I was still a child. So many little habits and behaviours that were so commonplace for clan members were strange and unnatural to me. I had been travelling around Thedas for four years, plotting and stealing secrets for most of that time, with the exception of a couple of brief friendships I made along the way. I was out of practice for the company. Ada gave me everything I needed. She was older by just a year, but that didn't stop her from becoming my big sister. She took care of me as if I had always been part of the clan.

I had never been able to count on anyone, never had someone waiting for me when I returned, or a place to go back to.

I didn't tell her everything, but I told her as much as I could, fearing that if she knew the full extent of my actions I might put her in danger. I was afraid, I thought that if I told her she would tell me to leave, that I would endanger the clan.

But Ada understood everything, she even offered to help. She was the Clan's First, so she had access to information about other clans, our enemies, whereabouts of shemlem that had hurt our clan and other clans in the area. My actions became even more precise, I could reach more places. I could exact more revenge and save more innocent lives. Or at least that's what I always said to myself.

"I guess now you understand why the visit to the Temple of Mythal disturbed me so much. I'm not sure how or why, but I think it was Mythal who saved me that day with the soldiers, and she herself who gave me the mission of vengeance. Abelas tried to explain it to me, but we didn't have much time. I'm not quite clear what that means to me, but that's why I let Morrigan drink from the well. If there was any Mythal left inside me, I had no desire to put any more in."

Solas listened in silence. He asked no questions and in the moments when I needed to stop to calm down a bit he didn't interrupt. When I finally finished my story, he slowly moved towards me and kissed me. It was a soft, sweet kiss. He kept his body pressed against me as he caressed my face and hair.

"So now you know. All this time I was pretending to be fair, to be full of compassion. I had to play the role of Justice, when I had always been Vengeance." I whispered against his lips.

"You're not one or the other, vhenan. You had always been both. You needed to be both." He replayed sofly, caressing my hair.

I knew there was compassion in his gestures, but there was also desolation. It was a kiss goodbye. Without saying anything, I began to cry.

The kiss broke between my sobs. I put my arms around his body, because I feared he would disappear at any moment if I let go. I had assumed that Solas would leave me a long time ago, in a way, I always sensed he would. But apparently knowing it hadn't prepared me for the moment.

"You have a rare and wonderful spirit..." He said as he slipped into my arms and I listened to his footsteps walk away. "In another world..."

"And why not in this one?" I whispered as I felt his footsteps fade and disappear. I screamed, but no one was listening anymore. I knew I was alone. I collapsed on the floor to cry.

Tomorrow I would be the mighty Inquisitor again. Who knows, maybe someday after all this I could go back to being Dirthda, the assassin. But at that moment, I just needed to be my most fragile and vulnerable version. I fell into bed and cried myself to sleep.

I didn't leave my room for several days. Fortunately, people thought I had been injured during the last battle and let me rest. There were no administrative meetings and no reports to write. The biggest threat to Thedas had been defeated, so even the Inquisition could rest for a couple of days.

I received several visitors in my room, some more perceptive than others. They all knew that I was in pain, but not all understood that it was more than physical pain. They all tried to comfort me in their own way. No one asked where Solas was.

Only Leliana mentioned it once. She told me that her agents had investigated the area he had indicated as his hometown, but found nothing but ruins. According to his agents, Solas was practically a ghost.

I politely instructed her not to waste any more resources on him, and that I was sure Lady Nightgale could use his agents to gather more useful information for the Inquisition. She nodded silently and never mentioned the subject again.

Every night, Ada stayed with me. Some nights we would talk until dawn, reminiscing about our years together in the woods. Other times she would tell me of her plans for the future of the clan, her worries, her desire to welcome new members. When I felt like talking, I would tell her about the different adventures I had during all the missions, secrets of my companions. There was also space for my fears, my doubts about the future of the Inquisition. Other nights we were just silent, each with her own thoughts, but keeping each other company. Finally, we were both able to mourn. For the lives lost throughout Thedas, for our clan, for the refugees, for the very lives I had had to take. I knew that eventually the friends I had gathered this year would have to leave, to fulfil their own responsibilities and solve their own problems.

I would have to leave too, but it was not yet time. There was still chaos, many refugees lost, whole areas destroyed. I still had reason to stay, so I would stay. But I would know that my time as an Inquisitor would come to an end. It only remained to find out when.