AN: I'm posting this as a sort of character crossover idea I had for an equally broody Dwarven mate for Thorin. Let me know what you think!

Prelude
The Kinslayer

The great hall of Aglarond had never looked more splendid, it's intricately carved stone architecture glittering in the glow of the fires to illuminate everything in a warm light – every minute detail of stone faced Dwarves, every hair on elegant deer roaming woodlands was lit and as the light danced upon the surface the images almost seemed to come to life. The vast tables, always covered with fine food, were overflowing. Whole mouth-watering cave boar roasted on the spit sat on shining gold plates, ale by the barrelful flowing freely into the quickly emptying tankards, while potatoes, cooked pheasant, sumptuous mushrooms, thick sausage links as long as a day was long, and pastries ranging from every possible combination of sweet fruits and tantalizing meats were piled high in tribute to the mountains in which the Dwarves made their home.

"Hail, the heirs of Aeducan! Hail!"

The tables shook and the floors rumbled as nearly all of Aglarond celebrated the princess' first command post. Her father, splendid in his golden jeweled armour, beamed down at the scene from behind his finely braided grey beard.
Raising a gauntleted hand he signalled for quiet and the massive crowd quickly fell silent to listen to Orgrim, King of Ered Nimrais and the small, glittering city of Aglarond.

"Welcome, friends!" he boomed. "Welcome, to all who have come to honour my daughter!"

There was another explosion of noise as the Dwarves cheered again.

"I thank you for your generosity, and for the loyalty of those willing to take up arms at her side tomorrow as she faces the scum that dare oppose our might, our growth, as we seek to bring further glory to Aglarond!"

As her father spoke, Orana stood in wait in a side corridor. Her nimble fingers were quickly braiding mahogany curls into a thick braid, rolling and tucking it into a massive knot at the back of her head as she cursed whoever it was that decided Dwarven women were not permitted to cut their hair. Its length reached well beyond her height – ninety years ample time for hair to grow – and was a source of constant frustration.
Her eyes, the colour of finely cut emeralds, began to wrinkle at the corners as she realized in her rush to get ready that she'd forgotten to bathe. A smudge of what she could only assume was dirt marred her flawless ivory skin. Looking around to ensure she was alone, she tore off the silver gauntlet that matched the ceremonial mithril armour she'd inherited from her grandmother and raised her weapons calloused hand to full red lips. She wet her palm with her hand and began to scrub furiously at the smudge that threatened her (mostly) tidy appearance, only stopping when she deemed herself presentable.

Straightening, Orana took a moment to admire herself in the mirror and the way the armour flattered and protected her statuesque frame. She'd worked hard to achieve the condition she was in, training day in and day out alongside her kinsmen with the gigantic war axe she bore on her back until her father deemed her worthy to take an official command posting worthy of an heir of Aeducan.

"You look wonderful, sister."

Orana smiled as she turned to face her younger brother, Orrak. He too was dressed for the celebrations in golden armour, though it wasn't as nearly as resplendent as their father's. His beard was finally starting to look worthy of a Dwarf as he aged into his seventh-eighth year, bearing two small braids to frame his mouth. She felt a tiny nag of envy at seeing his hair, the same deep brown as her own, falling loosely to brush his shoulders and not tugging at his scalp as it threatened to throw his balance.

"Thank you, brother."

"Ready to face the horde?" he asked with a sardonic grin.

"Never," said Orana, matching her brother's expression. "But, I do what I must when there are young lads about that need an example to learn by."

"Is that so?" laughed Orrak. "What lads do you speak of? I see none here."

Orana playfully grabbed her brother and wrestled him into a headlock, drilling her fist into his scalp with enough strength to aggravate him but not so much as to cause him real pain.

"I see a lad here with far too much time on his hands when he should be spending it in the training halls."

Orrak fought back though Orana was far stronger than he. She released him to look him in the eye, what she had to say too important to be fooling around while doing so.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he whined as he fixed his now very knotted hair.

"That you need to keep better record of your lovers," said Orana. "I ran into your plaything as I was leaving my room this morning – she thought I was you."

"Oh." Orrak's eyes fell to the ground and the elder Dwarf was surprised at his lack of reaction.

"That's all you have to say? After leading the poor woman around for months on end, only to leave her behind as you go off to play? Did you want Thriff to be discovered? She'd be killed if anyone else were to know what you've been up to."

"She's a servant, sister, why should it matter?"

Orana crossed her arms, glaring at her brother.
"Simply because she is a servant does not mean she deserves to be tossed to the wolves. Father raised you better than that."

"Raised him better than what?"

The two siblings turned to see the eldest Aeducan approaching and flinched inwardly.

Much like Orrak he was wearing golden armour that glinted brightly in the firelight but Orral Thunderhammer wore his like a true king. As he was much older his black beard was longer and his hair bore a few grey streaks that betrayed his age. His handsome face showed none of the one hundred and twenty years under his belt and he carried his pride as he carried his war hammer – with a heavy hand.

"I was just reminding Orrak here of our father's value in treating others with respect," explained Orana, not wishing to bring Thriff's identity up.
Unfortunately, while Orral was wise in his dealings with the tumultuous and poisonous political environment that plagued their small city he had a very strong stance against the lower class. Orana didn't understand where it came from as their father had always taught them to treat all equally, but Orral was infamous for the cruelty he inflicted on any poor, common Dwarf who happened to cross his path.
King Orgrim was aware of this though he said little for fear of upsetting the nobles. Aglarond was mired with political strife as their government, unlike the rest of the Dwarven kingdoms, had some semblance of democracy. The nobles technically elected whom they wished to be the next ruler rather than simply passing to the firstborn of the royal family, though it had been generations since a vote had been called as simply allowing power to pass naturally through lineage was much less trouble.

"And just whom have you been disrespecting?" asked Orral, raising a brow to glare at the young Dwarf coldly.

Orrak didn't respond right away and for a moment Orana thought for a moment the elder brother would strike him.

"Thriff."

"The maid?"

The young Dwarf nodded.

"The whore deserves no respect," growled Orral, tossing an angry glance in Orana's direction as if to challenge her to respond.

"The whore you speak of is a Dwarf just as you and I are," she hissed. "But I know you are speaking from heartache – wasn't it just last week I caught her sneaking out of your room?"

Orral reddened as his quick temper began to get the best of him. He seemed to think of drawing his weapon as his eyes looked to her axe and then the dagger she bore on her hip.

"Where did you get that?!" he said, pointing at the perfectly crafted sheath that bore the Aeducan crest. It was a fine weapon, the container made from the strongest oak and the blade of steel from smiths of Lothlorien.

"It was a gift from the Elves' embassy that arrived just yesterday." said Orana. "Is there a problem, brother?"

Orral appeared horrified, but said nothing as a servant came to whisper something in his ear. He frowned, and without saying another word to either of his siblings his went marching back down the corridor.

"You shouldn't have worn that around him," said Orrak.

"Why should I care if he sees it or not?"

"Because," whispered her brother, pulling her around the corner so their voices carried less, "that is a gift meant for a king, not the sister of one. There are rumours that the nobles are going to call for an election when father passes and you're the one they will elect."

Orana snorted.
"The Noble Council is full of hot air – the walls of Aglarond would fall if the rumours they flung about were to stop. Why should anyone believe something so ridiculous?"

"It's not ridiculous," said Orrak. "Think about it. You're more popular than he's ever been – the lower classes as well as the nobles love you. You're a better leader, you're more intelligent – Thriff told me she heard Harrowmont speaking to Bloodstone about your skills in battle, saying that you would easily defeat Orral if you were to duel."

"Enough!" exclaimed Orana, blushing furiously. "I've heard enough. I will not listen to any idiotic notions that the nobles will take the crown from Orral. He is the heir, not me."

"As you say, sister," Orrak said as he mock-bowed. "Now, I do believe I hear a ravenous horde hungry for a taste of your beauty. Shall we go join father?"

She couldn't help but laugh at her brother's antics, feeling the mood lighten immediately. She took his offered arm and together brother and sister walked out into the hall and to join the banquet.

XxX

"I don't understand, where are they?"

As an Orc warrior descended on Orana, she raised her axe high to swing it in a wide arc above her head. The stupid beast received the blow to its chest, red mist splattering her face as it died. Adjusting her grip so that her hands were placed firmly at either end of the shaft she spun to swipe the legs out from under another attacking Orc and quickly brought the axe down in a chopping motion to imbed the blade in its skull.

"I don't know!" she shouted back as she pulled her axe free, continuing the deadly momentum of her swings to decapitate a Goblin that had gotten too close. As its headless body collapsed to the ground she looked up to see the small band of warriors that were accompanying her in retrieving a legendary, treasured helm that had once belonged to Dain himself for her father had won the skirmish with a band of Goblins and Orcs that had been infesting that particular area of the Glittering Caves. They had succeeded in their venture, the helm tucked carefully into a sack Orana had tied to her belt.

"We should return to the crossroads, my lady," said a red haired scout. "Your brother will be waiting with the group that circled around west."

"Agreed," said Orana as she wiped the blood from her face with a rag, tucking it back in her armour.

She led the ten odd warriors back the way they'd come, the evidence of their victory in the numerous Orc and Goblin bodies that littered the cave floors. For her first command Orana couldn't have been more pleased – everything had gone off without a hitch, and she hadn't even lost a single Dwarf. Though it was an initiation for her the presence of their enemy had been a surprise to all as there were supposed to be none living that deep in the Glittering Caves, save for the occasional scout from Aglarond.

It concerned the princess – if they'd encountered Goblin and Orcs there were bound to be more nearby which could not be allowed. They not only posed a threat to Aglarond, but to the Rohrrim who lived in the plains beyond the towering stone walls of Ered Nimrais. They were valuable allies had she made a mental note to inform them immediately upon her return.

As the group turned the bend that led them into the crossroads that served as the meeting point for the expedition, Orana nearly tripped on something. Confused, as she didn't remember encountering any enemies that far back, she looked down to see the body of one of the warriors that had been in the group Orral had been leading.

"Light," she commanded, beckoning one of the young Dwarven warriors who held a torch. Immediately the flame illuminated the large, open area of the crossroads. She could see even more bodies, all Dwarven, laying unmoving in pools of blood. Gripping her axe tightly she began to inch forward.
"Watch your step."

Suddenly, as she moved through the carnage she caught the familiar glint of bright armour.

"No!" she gasped, running to the center of the chamber to where the golden, unmoving body of Orral Thunderhammer lay. "No!"

"It's true!"
Orana's head whipped around to see another group of Dwarves – warriors and nobles – approaching. They were led by Orrak and her father.
"I told you, father, I'm so sorry," said Orrak.

King Orgrim, with tears in his eyes, looked up on the fallen body of his heir then to his daughter.
"Tell me this isn't what it looks like."

"What?" exclaimed Orana. "What are you talking about?"

"I told you, father! I told you she's lost her mind!" shouted Orrak, pointing at her. "She killed him! Orana killed Orral! Kinslayer!"

"What?!" she cried. "No! I would never – I could never!"

"And yet here you stand in, standing over his body and bathed in his blood!"

Orana felt as though she had just fallen into a frozen lake, the blood draining from her face.

"I didn't kill him, we arrived not moments before you," she explained frantically. "We went down the east passage, just as we'd planned, but there were Orcs. We fought and continued, retrieving the helm and encountered another group on our way back – we only just got here!"

No one said anything for a moment, Orana's hysterical tone echoing in the cavern as everyone seemed to be staring at either her axe or Orral's body. To her horror, she noticed the wounds he bore were made by a war axe of identical shape and size to hers.

"You," said King Orgrim, pointing to the red headed scout. "What happened?"

He didn't speak immediately, looking to Orrak first who glared in response. Orana thought she might lose her mind as it slowly began to comprehend just what was happening.

"Lady Aeducan led us down the east passage to where we encountered a group of Orcs. We retrieved the helm…."

"Spit it out," barked one of the nobles.

"Sh-she led us back here, where Lord Orral was waiting to m-met with us," he stammered. "But they ha-hadn't seen us. Lady Aeducan told us to wait back there and we heard s-sounds of battle. W-we were worried and wh-when we turned the corner…."

"No," breathed Orana. She tore her eyes from her elder brother's body to look up at her father, who instead of wearing the look of pride or love he so often bore in her presence was looking at her with a look of utter disgust, pain, and grief.
Orrak was smiling.
Surely she had fallen into a nightmare. This couldn't be happening.

"Lady Aeducan was standing over Lord Orral. H-he begged for mercy but she just… laughed! She laughed, and k-killed him!"

The cave erupted as everyone began shouting at once. Cries of anger and slurs on Orana filled her ears and she felt all her strength leave her when her father turned away with tears in his eyes and grief unlike anything she'd ever felt before swallowed her whole.

"You lie!" she screamed, lunging for the young scout. "You lie!"

"Kinslayer!" cried Orrak. "Kinslayer! Take her!"

She fought hard, though refused to draw her weapon as she was forced to the ground by what had to have been at least twenty of her kinsmen. When Orrak raised his armoured hand his cold, cruel grin was the last thing she saw before she felt a sharp pain in her temple and was swallowed by darkness.

XxX

They beat her.

She wasn't sure how long it had lasted as Orana had passed out several times. When she regained consciousness in her dark cell she could tell from the blinding pain in her body that she had at least a few broken ribs and her shoulder was possibly dislocated. She couldn't begin to imagine what her face looked like as her left eye had swollen shut, and the dull iron taste in her mouth made her spit to reveal an unnerving amount of blood.

Orana groaned as she rolled over, trying to pull herself to at least sit up but the pain was too great. As she lay there on the damp floor and stared up at the moss covered roof, a bead of water dripping a steady rhythm as it fell to splash on her fevered forehead, Orana tried to process just what had occurred.

Orrak had betrayed her. He'd betrayed all of them, killed Orral and made it look as though she had done it. Obviously he had bribed or threatened the warriors that had been with her in the caves so they would tell the hideous lie of her brother's murder at her hands and their betrayal stung almost as bad as his. In all her years she never once suspected his true intentions.

"My lady?"

Letting her neck relax her head turned so she could see the familiar figure of Balin standing and staring at her through the bars. Next to him was someone she did not recognize, however, as he was clearly not a Dwarf and was dressed in grey robes and a hat that hid his face. A long, grey beard that fell nearly to his belt was visible and betrayed the fact he was undoubtedly ancient.

"B-Balin?"

"By Aule… open the door, you fool!" he cried, throwing the guard towards the gate. She watched, still unmoving, as the Dwarf fumbled with his keys and unlocked the door. Balin ran to her, dropping to his knees at her side. He was a welcome sight as while he wasn't of Aglarond he was a very dear, old friend.
"Oh, child," he whispered as he pulled a skin bottle from his pocket and quickly popped off the stopper. "Drink this."

Balin lifted her head and poured water into her dry mouth. She greedily gulped it down and felt the pain in her body ease. The Man – his face far too rough and aged to be Elf now that she could see it clearly – knelt down as well and laid his hand on her stomach, muttering strange words.
A cool sensation trickled through her veins, tingling and relieving as she felt her pain ebb away. Orana gasped as she felt her ribs pop back into place and her shoulder shift back into its correct position. The sensation reached her face and slowly vision returned to her left eye and soon she felt nothing but stiffness in her body and she quickly sat up.

"Thank you," she gasped.

"I had no idea Orrak had allowed it to go this far," said the Man.

"Neither had I," said Balin, disgusted.

"When is my trial?" asked Orana. She knew her brother couldn't keep her there forever – she would be brought before the council and tried, allowing her the chance to defend herself.

"It's already happened. Orrak had the entire Noble Council in his pocket, they've declared you guilty and named you kinslayer."

Orana's breath left her as she saw her hope flee. Being labelled a kinslayer was the greatest dishonour a Dwarf could endure. It meant certain death or, at the very least, exile.
"Wh-what of my father?"

The Man and Balin exchanged a sad look before the Dwarf placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.
"He's fallen ill," he explained. "The grief of what has happened was too much for him – he's not expected to last."

A strangled sob escaped her mouth before she could stop it, tears flowing freely to create pale streaks down her dirty face. Orrak had done what no Dwarf had succeeded in for centuries – he'd killed the heir, removed the competition, and killed the King.
The grief Orana had felt in the cave overtook her once more and silent, racking sobs began to shake her body. She'd had battle wounds before but the pain that ripped through her heart was beyond anything she could have ever imagined.

"Wh-when am I-I to be exiled?" she asked as her sobs slowly subsided minutes later.

"Tomorrow."

Orana buried her face in her hands and sighed heavily, fighting back more tears. She knew there was nothing she could do as long as Orrak had the Noble Council under his control, and the fact she hadn't even suspected him was weighing heavily on her mind. Had she not seen it coming because of her affection for him, or because he'd just been that clever?

"I don't know what I'm going to do," she whispered.

"You will survive," said the Man. "Many of your kin have forged lives for themselves outside of their mountain halls. Orrak may have succeeded here, but his betrayal is known – he threw the Elves and the Rhohrrim out as soon as your father collapsed. You have support outside of Ered Nimrais."

"What good is that?" cried Orana. "What good is the support of strangers when it is my own people who have turned their backs on me? The council, my own brother!"

"There are rumours of fights in the lower levels," said Balin. "There are those in Aglarond who fail to believe Orrak's lies."

Orana felt the flutter of hope in her gut, but she quickly extinguished it. Orrak would be swift and ruthless in putting down any sign of rebellion in the lower classes that dwelled in the lower levels of the city.
She supposed she could go to Rohan, find work there if what the Man was saying was true – she may have been labelled a kinslayer but she still had her skills. Then she could save enough to get her to where Dwarves had settled in the Blue Mountains.

"I will not fight my exile and risk their lives," she said firmly. "Orrak will show no mercy. I will go to Rohan."

The Man and the Dwarf lord frowned, but they seemed not wish to argue with her.

"Then we must get you out of here," said the Man, pulling her to her feet. "Quickly, before daybreak."

"Wait – Who are you? Why must we leave now?" said Orana as she accepted the clothes that Balin handed her. When her brother had her beaten and thrown in the cell they'd stripped her of her clothing until she was in nothing but a breastband and underclothing.

"Lady Aeducan, this is Gandalf the Grey."

"Your brother was not planning on allowing you to leave the city alive, lady Aeducan. We must get away now," Gandalf whispered as they all heard footsteps approaching. "Quickly!"

Orana slipped on the simple tunic, breeches, and boots, not bothering to even check her hair knowing it would be a gigantic nest of blood and dirt. There was no time with day approaching.

"Let's go."

They encountered no resistance, Gandalf and Balin leading Orana through the side streets of Algarond. Once and a while they did see a beggar or an urchin – all bowing to her as she passed and making her wonder just how large the rebellion already brewing against Orrak was. The thought of how many of her people would die in the coming months under his rule – rebellion or not – created an ache in her heart.

The glow of sunrise was beginning to touch the gates by the time they reached them, the caves beginning to glitter brilliantly in the morning light. Orona stopped as they passed through the vast gateway to take a look back at her home; for all what was going on within its sparkling caves and great halls it looked glorious in the morning light. A determination filled Orona, the grief turning her soul to resolute stone and she knew some day she would return and take her life back. Some day she would return to Aglarond and kill Orrak for what he'd done.

Some day.

...

AN: Also, in case you were wondering, I'm basing my OC's backstory off of the Dwarf Noble origin in the first Dragon Age game. It's so heart wrenching and easily my favourite choice of all the starts.