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Yesterday, she met a Grey Warden for the first time.
Yesterday, she watched her father reminces about the Rebellion with an old friend before they swore to ride off to fight the Blight together.
Yesterday, she tolerated Arl Howe's vague attempts at matchmaking.
Yesterday, she helped Aldous give history lessons to the new pages.
Yesterday, she and Ser Gilmore killed the giant rats her dog found in the larder.
Yesterday, she watched Lady Landra try to set her up with Darren for the upteenth time.
Yesterday, she rolled her eyes when her mother complained about the difficulties of arranging a match.
Yesterday, she learned that Iona had a daughter in the Denerim Alienage.
Yesterday, she sent her brother off to war.
Yesterday, she killed a man, and it was not enough.
Yesterday, she tasted a dead man's blood on her lips.
Yesterday, she found her beloved nephew dead in a pool of blood and her sister-in-law's mutilated body.
Yesterday, she watched her mother don armor and outshoot many of the guards.
Yesterday, she watched a mage burn her people alive.
Yesterday, she found her father cut apart and dying from Howe's treachery.
Yesterday, her mother abandoned her and chose death.
Yesterday, Highever burned.
Yesterday, her family died.
Yesterday, she lost everything she had known.
Yesterday, the Grey Wardens recruited her as the price for her survival.
Yesterday, she learned how to hate.
She stands at the edge of cliff and looked north to Highever. Even from here, she can still see the plumes of smoke rise up against the sky. Silently, with tears still stinging her eyes, she unsheaths her dagger and pulls back her long red braid. With one smooth motion, she cuts through her thick hair and throws the braid over the cliff. It glistens for a moment, bright copper in the pale dawn light, and then falls into the mists below. Her grey eyes never lose their steely hardness.
Yesterday, she was a girl with bright dreams of a future that will now never be.
Today, she is a woman with nothing left to lose, and vengance will be hers.