I am suffering with some silly formatting problems and I don't know why it's doing it. However, there are no gaps or markings were the change of scenes take place, and so it looks like it's running into one another, so I apologise for these problems, I am trying to fix them.

Telling the Tale

This story explores things that are and are not seen in Dragon Age Origins – this is the story that I thought of as I was playing the game with my Lady Aeducan, Nyra, when playing the Dwarf Noble line. This story follows the game to an extent – however, as it's my story I have added things, given more background and story to my character and the other's around them. This story isn't being written off the cuff – it is planned, therefore please don't think that I am going to leave things unanswered.

Thank you to Jo for beta-reading this for me and putting up with my 'my lady's'! And to HopeLearningSerenity for the title! lol

Chapter One – Origin

The knock at the door signalled the arrival of the scholar she'd sent for. If there was one thing Nyra was happy about in her twenty-six years as Warden Commander, it was the introduction of an archive – a variation of the memories within Orzammar. Once Alistair had joined her at the Keep, they had agreed that after Ostagar no Grey Warden should ever die unacknowledged and that their names and histories should be recorded somewhere so that they could be recognised for the sacrifices they made upon joining the order. It wasn't to mark heroes amongst them; it was to ensure that no one should ever be forgotten again.

Alistair opened the door to the young woman; she had been at the Keep as a scholar for six or maybe seven years and had a knack for the written word they hadn't seen in many years. Instead of only documenting the lives of those she spoke to, she expressed them with a flair and style that gave even the foulest man a slight scent of the rose. Never did she lie or excuse the behaviour about which she was told, but when she put ink to paper she wove tales of which even Leliana, the best bard in all Ferelden, would be jealous.

'Come in, Lowena,' Alistair greeted her with a smile. She blushed as she walked hesitantly into the room, taking in the surroundings of the private chambers of the Warden Commander and her deputy. The fire was roaring to try and banish the draughts that the Keep allowed to blow through its corridors, and Nyra was sitting on the cushioned couch the scholar had seen arrive only that morning buried under a number of blankets and furs trying to keep out the cold. It was common knowledge that she hated the cold and was often heard complaining that no fire could ever match the lava vents of Orzammar.

The young scholar almost dropped the papers and inks she was carrying when she spotted Nyra, surprised to see her so informal and relaxed. She was more accustomed to the Commander walking through the halls in her leathers or mail, with her daggers across her back, always a matter of business about her. Nyra looked up from the book she had been reading and her laugh, a soft giggling which again took Lowena by surprise, danced across the room. Lowena stopped, wondering if she had done something wrong, when Nyra tapped her nose.

She slowly brought her hand up and wiped at the tip of her own nose finding her fingers coloured in ink. Lowena sighed as she rubbed it with her sleeve. It wasn't the first time and it wouldn't be the last time she had ink smudged across her face.

'What can I do for you, Commander?' Lowena asked bowing with papers and inks clutched to her chest.

'The Commander has a special request.' Alistair offered Lowena a fur and placed a writing table in front of her before sitting at Nyra's side, his own legs sliding under the covers as a blast of wind caused the fire to flicker and dip before picking up again.

'Anything you require, Commander.'

Nyra sighed, looked up to her lover, and smiled. His hair had flecks of silver now, and there were a few creases around his eyes when he smiled back, but his amber orbs were as young and as soft and gentle as they had been when she met him that day in Ostagar nearly three decades ago. He had aged well, and if not for the scar that lined the left side of his jaw, few would realise he was as battle hardened as he was.

'Lowena, I have called you here because I trust your writings; you write truer of those who talk to you than any of your associates.' Nyra announced, her voice far softer than the young scholar had ever heard. Lowena bent her head in thanks at the compliment. 'It is time that the story is finally told. It is time to write the tale, in its fullest, in all truth, of the Blight and the role that we played within it.'

Lowena gasped slightly as Nyra nodded. This was what every one of the scholars within the Grey Warden Archive wanted to write when they came to the Keep, what they longed for every time they put ink to paper, and the newest scholar receiving such an honour would probably make a few heads explode.

'But I am just an apprentice,' Lowena spoke with a quiver of excitement and apprehension in her voice. The task was such an honour and privilege and as such it carried great responsibility and pressure. 'Surely, the Professor would be the best man to write such a history.'

'But that's the crux, Lowena,' Alistair spoke. 'The Professor does an excellent job at documenting history, but that's not what we want. We want our story written, we want others to be able to read it and have… hope when faced with the impossible.'

'Tell me, Lowena. What do you, as a historian and writer, know of the last Blight, of how it was ended and of the Wardens who defeated it?' Nyra asked.

'Well,' she took a breath. 'If I were to summarise Brother Genitivi's writings in The Dragon Age Blight: Ferelden Alone, I would say that I know that after the death of King Cailan and his troops at Ostagar, there were but two Wardens left who went by the names Nyra and Alistair.' She gestured towards the two wardens across from her. 'They had the insurmountable task of reassembling the armies with nothing more than the treaties of the Wardens in hand and a few bandits at their disposal.'

'Oh, I'm sure they'd love that,' Alistair thought aloud as Nyra smothered a giggle. Their friends being considered a bunch of bandits would never go down well with the group.

'I… err… Yes, so the two wardens and their… group, recruited the Dwarves after declaring a new king of Orzammar, the Dalish after freeing them of a curse that had started to plague them, the Circle of Magi after solving the problem of a maleficar gone mad, and then banded the nobles together under one banner – yours, I believe.' She nodded at Alistair, who grimaced and looked away.

'And then what?' Nyra pressed.

'Well, then you all went to fight the Darkspawn and the Archdemon. You defeated it and walked away, which no other Grey Warden had ever done.'

'That, my dear, is a very good summary.'

'But, why were you able to walk away? Why did you choose the King you chose for Orzammar? Being a dwarf, did you know them both? Why didn't you kill all the mages? Any one of them could have been a maleficar after what happened! And what really happened at the Landsmeet?' Lowena barraged them with questions before lowering her voice, 'Rumours have always said that there was a traitor, but no one really speaks of it and it was never written of.'

'And it is because you ask such questions that we want you to write the real history of the Blight, the truth in its entirety. No lies, no hidden agendas. Just the words we speak.' She nodded, and dipped her quill in the ink.

'May I ask questions as we go?'

'If you don't then we've chosen the wrong scholar.'

'Then tell me, Commander, you came to Ostagar from Orzammar, yes?'Nyra nodded. 'Why did you leave?'

'That is an excellent place to start our story…'

'But why has there been a change in my tactics, Brother?' I asked brushing my fingers through my long white hair before gathering it up into the high ponytail I always wore. 'Surely as Commander I should be leading the Grey Wardens down into the eastern tunnels?' I posed a good question, one that seemed to have been going around in Trian's head for some time too.

He scratched at his beard as he spoke. 'I don't know, little sister, it's just what I heard father telling Lord Harrowmont last night. Bhelen is going to Second him and you'll go get the Aeducan Shield to ensure your glory and bring honour to the house.'

'So glory is mine again?' I sighed, resting my chin in my hand as I stared glumly into the mirror. A moment of uncomfortable silence fell between us before I sat up again and turned to face him smiling. 'Don't worry, Big Brother, when we return this evening, I shall present you the shield in front of all the houses as a gift for your future glory as king.'

I bit my lip. 'Father won't like it, but it will show the others that you have my support as the rightful heir.' Still a nagging doubt lingered in my mind as he refused to meet my eyes. I took a breath and finally spoke what was on my mind. 'Trian, Bhelen came to me last night.' His eyes snapped to mine. For a moment I wondered why I had allowed Gorim to leave us alone.

'Did he indeed?' He walked to the door of my bed chamber and closed it. 'And just what did our baby brother have to say?'

My eyes moved nervously from the door to Trian. Hurry back, Gorim, I thought as I licked my lips and took a breath before speaking again. 'He told me that you were going to move against me today. That I was becoming too much of a threat to you and that you were going to try and kill me.' I stood up and went over to him. Although I was only half an inch taller, he had once told me that I always made him feel that I towered above him; right now I needed to use that to my advantage. 'Tell me, Big Brother, would you go back on your word? On our agreement?'

'Bhelen told you that?' He shook his head.

I nodded, my jaw set, eyes narrowed. 'He said he overheard you giving orders to your men – you can ask Gorim if you wish it, he was there.'

'Little sister, Bhelen said that you were moving against me.' His dark eyes told me he spoke the truth. I nodded, my face instantly softening as I backed down, my shoulders slumping in relief. 'He said that you were going to address the Assembly and announce that… Sister, he knows about me.'

'What? How?' I shook my head in disbelief. For years we had kept our secrets hidden far from prying eyes, and after so many years we had thought we were safe. Complacency, I thought, we let our guard down.

'I don't know, but he knows.'

I rubbed my hand over my face in annoyance. 'I think he knows about Gorim and I too. He kept making comments, little snide remarks…'

'My Lady,' Gorim's voice sounded through the door as he knocked lightly, it was almost as if he had heard my call to him. 'My Lady it is time,'

Trian opened the door and made to leave. Gorim stepped out of the way, bowing to the Prince. He was half way across my sitting room when he stopped and turned. 'Watch your back today, little sister, I need you.'

'And I you, Trian.'

'If Trian was to attack you, My Lady, the crossroads would be the perfect place to do it,' Gorim warned me as we made our way back through the labyrinth of tunnels.

'He's not going to attack me, Gorim. We've discussed this already.' I was trying to be as discreet as possible in front of the party members with whom we had been sent to recover the Aeducan Shield. 'Whoever sent those thugs, it wasn't Trian.'

'Do you think it was-'

'What's going on? Why are we stopping?' the young scout with us questioned.

'Is there trouble, My Lady?' grunted Frandlin Ivo.

'No, just keep your eyes peeled. We don't know who sent those men back there.'

Our group carried on, arms at the ready, the Aeducan Shield slung over my back. I could feel Gorim's eyes lingering on it. 'Perhaps that might be better in front of you,' he suggested, but I just shook my head.

Finally Gorim's arm stretched out in front to stop my progress. I turned to him to speak when he pressed his fingers to his lips and then pointed towards the tunnel opening. I realised that I had been about to go charging in to the room where the supposed trap was meant to be laid. I nodded to him, my eyes grateful, and gathered the shadows around me, the scout with us following suit.

I crept out into the crossroads and caught my breath. Trian!

'No!' I screamed as I ran, breaking my cover, not caring what or who saw me. 'Trian, no!' I shook his body hard as I knelt next to him. 'Brother, wake up, please, wake up!' There was blood everywhere – it was pooled about him and his guards, splattered up the walls and columns of the chamber – it had been a massacre.

I looked up at Gorim unable to speak or think. I looked with wide, confused eyes, as he pulled me into his arms. He wrapped them tightly around me whilst I stared at the columns that rose above us, looking at the blood that reached twice the height of any dwarf, even myself.

Gorim pulled back, concern in his eyes as I looked blankly around at the destruction, my arms still at my side, and daggers in my hands. 'Trian,' I managed to say as my eyes rested back on my big brother; my big brother who was going to give me everything I had ever wanted.

'My Lady,' he grasped my face in his hands and focused me to look at him. 'Nyra, please, we have to get you out of here – whoever did this may return. For you!'

'But Trian-'

'He's dead, Nyra, but you're not and I want you to stay that way.' I nodded, finally understanding his words.

I made to stand, but stopped, hovering over Trian as I closed his eyes. 'I will avenge you, Big Brother. I will ensure that you rest with the Ancestors in peace. Give me time, I promise.' I stood up and bowed my head before turning to walk away.

'Quick, father, over here,' Bhelen's voice sounded through the chamber. My hands tightened on my blades as I looked around for him. They had yet to appear, but his voice carried on an echo.

'A set-up!' I hissed, furious with myself for falling into such a trap. But I instantly knew who had done this. It was he, after all who had approached both Trian and me about such plots.

'I am sorry, My Lady,' Gorim whispered back, 'it seems that I have failed you.'

'No, Gorim, I failed us. And Trian too.' I shook my head as my father appeared around the corner and entered the cave with Bhelen and his guards, Lord Harrowmont bringing up the rear.

'Nyra?' My father questioned. My face was red with fury, I was covered in blood and holding my blades. I knew exactly how this was going to look – knew exactly which way this was going. Thank goodness, I thought, for Frandlin and our scout. The scout might not carry much for his word, but Frandlin certainly would. 'Nyra, what is all…' his words stopped as he saw Trian behind me.

'Brother, no,' Bhelen over emphasised his words, looking at Trian and then at myself. 'Nyra, what did you do?'

Something inside me broke. I roared with outrage and lunged at him; Gorim grabbed me around the waist and pulled me back. 'You traitorous bastard!' I screamed at him. 'You did this! You tried to play me, play us both!' I tried to wrestle out of Gorim's grasp but he held me firmly; finally I sagged into his hold as the tears began. It was over. 'Everything the three of us worked for, gone…'

'Nyra,' Lord Harrowmont began as he approached me cautiously; my head was dropped, my shoulders were shaking with the sobs I didn't want Bhelen to have the satisfaction of hearing, but I still had my blades in my hands, I was still dangerous. 'What are you talking about?'

It was a moment before I answered. I opened my eyes to see my father sitting with Trian, his lifeless son cradled in his arms whilst his face, wet with tears, looked up at me with disbelief and despair.

It cut me to my core to see that look in his eyes, but I refused to look away; I wanted him, no I was begging him, to know that I spoke the truth. 'Bhelen came to me last night, telling me that Trian was planning on attacking me here. I told him he was a fool and that Trian and I had an understanding already in place. There was no way I was going to betray my big brother and I threw him out. Told him to get out my sight because if I did become queen one day, by some random chance, I'd make sure that he wouldn't be able to make such slanderous claims again.' I took a shaky breath. 'When I spoke to Trian this morning, I questioned him about what Bhelen had said and he told me that our little brother had also approached him with the same tactic.'

'That's absurd.' Bhelen snapped. 'I didn't do anything of the sort – nor did I have anything to do with this… I was with you two all day!'

'Lies!' I screamed and made for him for a second time. Gorim was quick to react, holding me back again.

'Why is anyone even asking her questions? She's standing there covered in his blood with her daggers still brazenly in her hands.'

'Lord Harrowmont,' Gorim said, as I calmed down. 'The evidence here is circumstantial, and even if the real perpetrator was elsewhere all day,' his eyes flicked towards Bhelen, 'it doesn't mean that he, or she, couldn't have ordered the murder. However, Lady Aeducan speaks the truth – Bhelen did approach her last night in her rooms. I was there going over the plans for today.'

'Gorim, your loyalty to Lady Aeducan does you great honour, but it also makes you a terrible witness.' Lord Harrowmont sighed.

'Nyra,' My father looked up at me, his eyes damp with tears. 'Did you… Did you do this?'

'No, father.' I shook my head and knelt beside him. 'No I did not. I would never do anything like this. I would never hurt you, Trian or Bhelen… although that last one might change,' I sneered, glaring up at the snake I had called brother. 'I came in from finding the shield and found them here. I checked to see if he still lived, but he did not. Then you arrived, right at that moment…' I left it unsaid, but the world conveniently hung in the air. 'We thought that you might have been the attackers returning to claim my life too, which is why our weapons were drawn.'

'She does speak the truth, Your Majesty. As little as my word is worth in this situation, I want you to know that your daughter is innocent,' Gorim offered my father.

'Scout, what do you say to all this?' Bhelen barked at the man who had accompanied me. I stood up, ready to tell Bhelen 'I told you so' before I punched him in the face.

'Lady Aeducan,' the scout began, unable look at me, 'saw Prince Trian standing here, she went up him as if to present him the shield, but when he went to embrace her, she showed him her dagger instead.'

'What!' both Gorim and I roared. I saw red and lunged at the lying bastard, this time moving out of Gorim's reach and slit his throat.

'Restrain the Lady Aeducan,' Harrowmont called, standing back away from the horror as the scout fell on his knees, his eyes wide, his cry of surprise reduced to a strained gargling noise before he collapsed on the floor.

'No!' My father's voice sounded throughout the hall. 'Who here wouldn't do the same thing if he lied against them?' The guards and their party members shifted uncomfortably. 'I know that I would have slit a traitorous throat myself.' He turned to the other who had been with me that day, 'Frandlin Ivo, you serve my daughter well in the armies; you honour her, your family and Orzammar by your actions and deeds. Therefore, tell me, I implore you, tell me what happened here – truthfully.

His eyes shifted guiltily from my father to Trian and from Trian to Bhelen and I knew before he opened his mouth that he was going to betray me and therefore my father and Orzammar as well. I looked at Gorim; he knew it too. He was shaking his head as he looked at me with eyes so sad that I wanted to cry again.

'It is just like the scout said.'

My father crumpled.

'Father!' I screamed in shock as he fell to the floor, two guards rushing to aid him. I struggled against those who held me back before turning my attention back to Bhelen. 'Look what you've done,' I spat. 'Look what you've done to our father! You've betrayed not only Trian and I, but our father, too – your father. You've dishonoured our name and Orzammar itself!'

'She will lose her head for this, Trian,' Bhelen spat back at me. 'I swear it.'

'How can you not see this is a set-up, Lord Harrowmont?' Gorim asked in outrage. 'Isn't everything just a little too perfect… the timing of your arrival, the men in Aeducan Thaig?' Harrowmont furrowed his brows at that remark. 'Oh, yes, we were ambushed by men there – ask Ivo, if he lies and says no, go there yourself and check.'

All eyes turned back to Ivo, who had tried to hide himself among the guards. I don't know if it was because Harrowmont could indeed go and check or because he felt he owed something to my father and me, but he did speak the truth on the matter of the mercenaries who had met us there.

'You see?' continued Gorim. 'And why was the High Commander, who is the one responsible for the tactics of all the regiments that have fought today, sent on this little side mission? Of course the shield is important, of course the glory of House Aeducan is vital, but why wasn't Bhelen sent whilst she led? And why was she sent without her own personal battalion, her own troops? Why send just two strangers with us?'

'You will shut your mouth, servant,' Bhelen spat, stepping up towards him. Lord Harrowmont held up his arm, holding him back, whilst he listened to my Second's words.

'No, I will not,' Gorim spoke back, causing Bhelen to splutter. Never had Gorim forgotten his place, but now he felt he had nothing to lose. Trian was gone and the plans we had all put in place were in ruins. He knew, as well as I, that the situation before us was dire regardless of my innocence. 'I will ensure that the Assembly and all of Orzammar hear these questions, hear the circumstances of Prince Trian's death, for he shall not rest with the stone until his real murderer is brought to justice.'

'Yes,' I spoke again, finally able to compose myself. 'Let the Assembly judge me for the things of which I have been accused, for I know that they will listen and judge me honourably.'

'Of course, they didn't. I wasn't even given a trial; instead I was exiled into the Deep Roads to face my death at the hands of the Darkspawn.' Nyra sighed as she leaned back against the couch. Alistair wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him. Nyra patted his knee lovingly. 'That moment at the crossroads was the last time I saw my father. I still remember his eyes, staring at me, pleading with me to make it all better again. And I wanted to so much. If I could have gone back, if I'd have refused to work without my own men or if I'd have made him send Bhelen. If Trian and I had questioned the change in the tactics that I'd prepared…'

'You'd have your father back, sure, but wouldn't that mean that you'd have none of this now?' The scholar vaguely gestured around the room, whilst looking directly at Alistair.

'I wouldn't give up my life now,' Nyra said as she stared blankly into the fire, rubbing Alistair's knee. 'But just to be able to see my father again, happy and proud…' Alistair pressed a kiss into her hair.

'So you were thrown in prison and sentenced without a trial?' Lowena asked after a few moments, allowing Nyra time to put her thoughts back in order. 'How could they do that?'

Nyra smiled gently, not many Surfacers understood the world of Dwarven politics. Mind you, she thought, not many Dwarves understood it fully, to be fair.

'My brother had over half the assembly in his pockets. How could I have had a fair trial even if I had been given one?' The young scholar tickled her chin with the quill's feather as she thought about the question.

'Dwarven politics are all back-alley deals and payments slipped under the table.' Alistair laughed. 'They're sneaky little buggers.'

'Hey! Less of the little!' Nyra exclaimed batting him playfully. He laughed harder at her weak protest and she smiled, loving the sound of his laughter.

'So,' Lowena refocused the discussion back onto the story. 'Was it your brother who brought the news of your exile or was it Lord Harrowmont?'

Nyra shook her head sadly, all laughter gone from her face. 'It was neither; Gorim was made to tell me.'

I embraced Gorim tightly against the bars of the cell that held me, trying desperately to impress into my mind the memory of how his lips moved against mine, his scent of steel and smoke, and the feel of his beard against my skin. I gulped for air as I fought back the tears that burned my eyes and threatened to spill down my face. I realised that this would, in all honesty, be the last time we saw one another. My exile into the Deep Roads would certainly end with my death.

'I will always love you, Nyra,' he gruffly whispered, emotion coating his voice. 'You will always be My Lady Aeducan and I will never forget you.'

'I'll make it out, Gorim. I will find the Grey Wardens, and they'll help me to the surface.' My voice cracked as the tears I had been holding back for so long finally slid down my cheeks. 'I'll meet you in Denerim, just like you said. I'll be there at the market square. Just make sure you're there for me.'

'I'll wait there for you every day, my heart.' The doors to the cells opened and a guard poked his head through the opening, motioning to Gorim that our time was up. Slowly he detangled himself from my embrace and wiped his own eyes. 'I have to go.'

'Until Denerim.' He cupped my chin and ran his thumb over my lips. I leaned forward and kissed him one last time before turning away, unable to watch him leave me here.

I heard him stop at the door and whisper a prayer to the Ancestors to watch over me – I stuffed my fist in my mouth, choking back the sob that threatened to tumble from my lips.

As I heard the doors close heavily, I fell to my knees and broke down. The easy life that I had led with a father who loved me, subjects who admired me, and a man who had worshipped the ground I walked on was over and only my death awaited.

I had tried to act bravely for Gorim's sake, but I knew that the chances of my finding the Grey Wardens, before the Darkspawn found me, were slim.

A new wave of tears washed over me as I thought of Gorim standing in the market square of the human capital, waiting for me every day, always hoping and never sure. I imagined him old, his beard long and white, his eyes filled with a life of sadness and loneliness and I wept again.

So many things stolen from so many, all for the greed of one man, I thought bitterly.

I wiped away the tears from my cheeks furiously. I would find the Grey Wardens. I would make it out of the Deep Roads, and one day I would return to Orzammar and destroy Bhelen and all that he loved.

He had taken away my father, my brother and my future. One day the favour would be returned – that I vowed.

Lowena looked at Alistair as she heard the words of her Commander.

'You know of all this, Ser,' Lowena asked.

It took a moment for Alistair to realise that she was talking to him. 'Err, of course.' Lowena bit her lip, knowing that he had missed her point. Nyra narrowed her eyes as she watched the scholar searching for the right way to reword her question. It was the first time since Lowena had entered the room that she had seen the Grey Warden Commander she knew.

Although the couple had been married for years – something that they had done before they found out it went against orders from Weisshaupt Fortress – the Grey Wardens and the rest of the staff at the Keep never saw Nyra as anything other than the Commander. Except when she had to attend to her duties as Arlessa, she was never seen walking the corridors without her armour, and she was always all business to the men and women she commanded and managed. To the world Nyra was a formidable leader and a woman not to be messed with.

But tonight the Commander was different. She was all softness and curves, giggles and caresses, loving looks and longing sighs. If Lowena couldn't see with her own eyes, the scars that marred her face, she would swear that this woman was not the woman who marched the corridors of the Keep barking orders to the men and women around her.

For Lowena, it solved the puzzle that mystified many of the women in the Keep as to why he loved her so much, why he looked at her with such love and adoration in his eyes. Every woman here, be them Warden, Scholar, or Servant, would give all they had to have a man look at them the way Alistair looked at Nyra – although most would probably not admit to it.

But the idea that Alistair knew all about this Gorim, the lover she had secretly taken in Orzammar and her desire to stay with him amazed the young scholar that he would look at her in such a way, regardless of Nyra's behaviour when alone together. She knew of no man who would dare accept a woman as a bride who had been defiled for so long by another.

Nyra leaned over to her husband and whispered in his ear. Alistair blushed, his eye growing wide as he looked at the girl across from him.

'I, err, yes, I know of Nyra's history with Gorim, every detail… or at least as much as I wanted to hear! I actually owe the chap a lot.'

'I see…' Lowena rubbed the feather down her nose, her lips pursed. Finally she spoke again, her feather swishing through the air. 'Forgive me, ser, Commander, I just didn't wish to ask a question later and for it to cause either of you offense.'

'Of course,' Nyra accepted her apology gracefully, grateful of the scholar's tact. 'Shall I continue?'

'Please.' Lowena scribbled furiously some notes as Nyra began her tale of exile.