Please read before the chapter: There is a new pov character in this chapter. Unlike with the original write of this story Felassan isn't the secondary pov character. It's a character I sort of made OCish: Dirthamen. I am keeping the personality I have for him from other stories I have been working on before the release of Trespasser. I figured it was unlikely we would ever actually meet Dirthamen in game or in the novels and it's also because I just adore the way he has been developed over the past few months or so. You will see what I am doing as the story progresses that will tie all of this back into the canon story. Some of it is hinted at already in chapter.

Warm blood dripped to the sand colored stone. The stone wall pressed against Dirthamen's back, his hand clutching his bleeding side as he stared at the figure before him. His eyes burned with unshed tears. His heart screamed with the pain echoing of the betrayal now dealt. He shouldn't have felt this way. He should have known not to ignore the images of what was to come. But he couldn't have believed them. He hadn't wanted to believe them.

"Falon'Din," the name caught in Dirthamen's throat. "Why?"

Blood tapped against the stone from a dagger gripped in another's hand. "It's nothing personal, brother," the elf spat the relation as if it were something foul on the tip of his tongue. "It's high time I ruled alone." Falon'Din lifted the dagger and pointed it at Dirthamen. "You've always taken half of everything since the day we were born! I am sick of it. Sick of knowing that you, you were never even my full blooded twin!" His yellow-gold eyes, so like their mother's, flashed with rage.

Dirthamen pushed himself back against the wall, staring at his brother. "We've always been together," he choked. There were invisible talons wrapping around his lungs. It was nothing compared to the pain in his heart. "What does it matter if we don't share the same father?"

"Of course, you knew." Falon'Din turned his back on Dirthamen. "You knew and never told me."

"I am still your brother!" Dirthamen shouted. He shuddered as pain raced through his body from where Falon'Din had stabbed him. "We've always been together. Even when you left, I found a way to your side again. We're brothers, twins."

"Shut up!"

Fire raced through Dirthamen's shoulder. He gasped, struggling for both breath and against the pain. His vision cleared. Falon'Din was inches from him, his gaze no longer holding love or a playfulness to them, but were cold. As cold as when he looked down on the People as of late. He looked at Dirthamen as if Dirthamen were no better than an insect ready to be squashed underfoot.

"Brother," Dirthamen gasped through pain and locked airways.

Falon'Din moved his hand. He pressed it against Dirthamen's jaw. "I can have all of it." He moved his hand. The tip of his finger painted Dirthamen's blood over Dirthamen's face. A smile curled Falon'Din's lips. "Without you, all that was ours is mine. All the territory you held, the slaves; the magical knowledge, mine."

Something warm slipped from Dirthamen's eye and trickled down his face. He couldn't look away from his brother. The expression, the lust and greed now dominating his brother's face, was horrifying.

The finger continued to paint the blood over Dirthamen's face. "Or instead of killing you, I could make you serve me." His voice softened, laced in lust for power these thoughts twisted in Falon'Din's mind.

Dirthamen couldn't move. He couldn't breathe.

"No one would question your fall from power, not if you signed your life to me. How about it? Become nameless, be the insect you really are."

Dirthamen's blood turned to ice. He knew what it was Falon'Din was painting on his face with Dirthamen's own blood. The world rang in Dirthamen's ears. He lifted his free hand and took hold of Falon'Din's wrist.

"You are my brother," the words were weak, shaking with pain and breathlessness. "I won't serve you." Another tear slid down Dirthamen's face. He didn't have his brother's physical strength. He never had it. It was why he had needed the ravens to carry him at one point. "I stayed by you because you were my brother." Another tear slid down his face. "Because I loved you more than anything in this world."

Falon'Din blinked. His smile faltered. "You were never my brother. You're existence is a mistake."

The words sliced through Dirtahmen harsher than his brother's dagger had. "Take it," the words slipped from him, numb; broken just as his heart. "Take all of it!" he screamed. "If all you want is power. If all you care about is territory and your own image. Then take it! If my being there through your worst nightmares, my standing by you while you wept, laughed; raged. If none of that meant anything to you, then do it. Kill me!"

Dirthamen saw his brother lift the dagger. He closed his eyes, waiting for the blade to hit his throat.

A shriek sounded.

Dirthamen's eyes snapped open. Two ravens had dived at his brother their talons slashed through the barrier Falon'Din had around him and rent flesh.

Falon'Din screamed.

Dirthamen staggered to his feet. "Falon'Din," he whispered as he watched Fear and Deceit attack his brother.

The larger of the two birds continued in attack. The smaller broke off. "Run!" she shrieked at Dirthamen. "We are bound to you. You die, we die. Run you fool!"

"He fears not your death, only the one with fire. Run, Dirthamen!" Fear called after Deceit's words.

Dirthamen stared at the birds for a heartbeat. Then he moved, his feet carried him towards a distant eluvian. He staggered before he broke in a slow run. His breathing was uneven. He was running, faster and faster. He came at the eluvian at the fastest speed his frail form could manage. He burst through the mirror and raced through the crossroads, blind to all but the pain and the horror.

He stopped. "Mother." His feet changed direction and he was running once more. His feet carried him to where Mythal would be. Where he had known he would one day be.

Blood dripped down his side. Dirthamen slowed and clutched his side and a tree. The crossroads had speed his journey, aiding him in his desperation. Long strands of his dark, black hair fell around his face. The blood Falon'Din had painted on his face cracked with each struggled breath Dirthamen took.

"Dirthamen?" a soft voice asked. A warm hand touched his face. "What happened?" He was forced to look into two intense, yellow-gold eyes. "Is that—?" A long finger touched the blood covering his face. "What happened?" her voice was stern.

"Mother, I need the truth. Who was he? The man you went to that night. Who is my father?! Why am not Falon'Din's full brother? His twin. Why did you never tell us?!"

Mythal started to speak, "Dirth—"

The moment she spoke his original name, images exploded into his mind. Visions of the past, of his past:

His mother held him as a baby, alone in the dark night. "His name is Dirth, may none know my secret, his secret, not even his father."

Dirthamen snapped back to the present. He backed away from Mythal, staring at her as tears slid down his face. "He doesn't even know," he whispered.

"Dirthamen, calm down. You're not thinking." Mythal reached for him.

The magic was weaving around him as she tried lull calm as she had when Dirthamen and Falon'Din had been children. It was softer than then, not as strong as she tried to use it to calm instead of make his sleep.

More images flashed before his eyes. Elgar'nan glared down at Dirthamen and Falon'Din when they had been five. Elgar'nan nodded to Falon'Din as he ran faster and faster.

"Wait, Falon!" the little Dirth called after his brother. "I can't run fast."

Falon, as Falon'Din had been named before the People added to his name, stopped and ran back. "Come on, Dirth. You can keep up with me. We're meant to be together. We're twins!" Falon took his hand and pulled him after.

Dirth slowed his brother.

Elgar'nan moved before them and broke their hands apart. "Leave him, Falon. You're strong and will make it in this world. He's a mistake who will never last in this world. In our war."

Falon buff out his chest. "He's not." The words were faded as Dirthamen was snapped back to present.

"Elgar'nan suspected I wasn't his," he whispered.

"Never." Mythal wrapped her hand around his. "Dirthamen, he never knew. Neither of them knew. I was upset that night. Elgar'nan was enraged I was expecting a child. I sought comfort with my closest friend. It was a mistake."

Dirthamen backed away from her. The words rang in his ears. "Your closest…" he whispered. "You slept with his brother! With the wolf." Dirthamen felt sick. The ground shook as the realization washed over him. That was why he and Falon'Din had still looked like pure brothers. Why Elgar'nan had never suspected. Why Dirthamen had been born so weak and frail.

"It was a mistake. They can never know."

Dirthamen looked at Mythal. His eyes locked onto hers. Black strands of her fell from the horn-like style she preferred. The thinness of eyebrows, the same as theirs. They had looked like their mother. It had helped in keeping her secret, her mistake hidden from Elgar'nan and his brother.

"What if I had been born with pale eyes? Anything of Uncle's that Elgar'nan didn't share?" he demanded. No sooner then he asked it, he knew. Dirthamen felt his blood grow colder. He backed away from Mythal. "You're no mother," he whispered.

"Dirthamen." She reached for him again. "I was young. I didn't know what to do."

"Tell the truth," Dirthamen told her. "No matter how hard it was. You could have told all four of us the truth."

"It would have destroyed them." Mythal touched his arm. "Your blood father can never know he has a child. Elgar'nan can never know I betrayed him back then, because I couldn't take his rage. It was a mistake."

"Uncle would have loved you," Dirthamen told her. The words came from the reality he could see where she had told truth. "He would have raised Falon as his own even as Elgar'nan threatened Uncle. He would have loved all of us." Dirthamen backed away from her again. He shook his head. "I was expendable from the start. The secret you never wanted anyone to know of. That's why you named me Dirth. You would have killed me if I had his eyes instead of yours. If any part of me looked like him! Like my father. A part of him which wasn't shared in his older brother!" He kept backing away from Mythal. Silent tears slid down his face. "I am a mistake."

"Dirthamen." Mythal moved towards him.

"They need to know," Dirthamen started. "Both of them."

"What will that do? It will cause you more pain than you're already in." Her clawed glove touched his arm. "He can never accept you as his son now, Dirthamen. You sided with us. You sided with your brother's stance because you couldn't stand the thought of betraying him. Your blood father will never accept you."

Dirthamen closed his eyes. She spoke the truth. He could see the future he went to his father. There was nothing but more pain down that road. More pain for his father as well. If his father ever learned the truth, there was nothing but pain for him. For the both of them.

Instead of replying, Dirthamen turned away from Mythal and started forward.

"They can't know!"

Dirthamen stopped walking. "Your secret will never find its way to either of them," he told her, his voice hallow even to his own ears.

"What will you do?" Mythal asked. "Attack Falon'Din?"

Dirthamen felt bitterness on his lips. "Walk and never look back. I won't stop what's to come. I'll be dead to the world. If I must be painted as a villain in my father's eyes, then he will always see me standing with the others."

"Dirthamen."

"You deserve the fate that awaits you, Mythal. Hate me if you will. Wish I had never come to be. Think what will of me. I will never see you again as you are now. Nor will see Dirthamen again." He started walking once more.

"Dirthamen!"

With each step he took, he stripped a layer of the finery until only the plain cloths he'd worn under it all remained. He left the crossroads, not caring where the eluvian he walked through took him. He stopped walking, finding himself for the first time in his life, completely alone.

A soft breeze pulled at Dirthamen. His eyes locked onto the distant lake. He was close to where he lived. There was no point in heading there. He was currently in the dark places of the earth. In a dark place where he would remain ignorant of what Mythal had kept from the both of them.

Dirthamen pulled out his dagger. He gathered his long hair and twisted it at the nape of his neck. "Dirthamen is dead," he whispered.

The sharp blade sliced through his hair. He lowered his hands. The dagger slid from his hand. The last piece of finery clattered down stone to vanish into the valley. His other hand grasps over a foot of black hair. He felt bare, weightless without the mass of his hair. He lifted his hand and turned towards the sanctuary.

"I'm sorry, I should've spoken out," he whispered. "I feared Falon'Din leaving me behind more than anything else in the world." More tears slid down his bloody face. "I feared a future I knew would come no matter how hard I tried to outwit it. I was a fool."

He opened his hand and watched as the wind pulled the stands of hair through the air.

"Forgive me, Solas, I won't save her. I won't stop what's to come. For Dirthamen is no more."

The last strand left his fingers. He turned away from the sanctuary, for the eluvian.

"For I am dead."

(Author's Note: And thus the reason this is angst.

Falon'Din and Dirthamen are described in the lore around them as always being together. I feel as if they had vowed to be together no matter what. But what if it came out they didn't have the same father? To Dirthamen, it doesn't matter, they're still brothers. For Falon'Din, it matters more than anything else, they're not brothers.)