An elven woman sat in her chair by the window, staring outside at the cold world outside, trees swaying gently in the breeze as the winter blew its frozen magic onto the ground. A faint smile settled on her lips as she stood up, placing a hand on the frozen windowpane. Her mind fluttered to a far off place, somewhere she hadn't thought about in what felt like eons.

Her fingers drifted down the windowpane gently, and she shook her head free from such thoughts, brushing the silvery blonde hair from her face and out of her green eyes. She moved from the window, steeling herself as she walked to the large desk. Her fingers strayed across the wooden surface, eyes taking in the large, ornate tree carved into the wood beneath a sheet of glass. The tree stood tall, the branches spread out to nearly the edges of the desk, little shapes craved into the trees with such detail it made the woman feel a sense of longing as her fingers fluttered across a wooden rose that was carved at the base of the tree. She paused for a second, and a frown fluttered across her features as she settled down in the large chair, and she brought her fingers to her lips, staring at the page before her.

There was a knock on the door, and the woman straightened up. "Yes?"

A small, petite woman entered, smiling broadly as she carried a tray into the room. "Milady, here is your afternoon tea, just how you like it." She said, swishing her long black hair over her shoulder as she waltzed into the room.

The woman nodded, turning her gaze to the blank paper before her. "Thanks Zinerva. Leave it on the table there. Have the guests arrived yet?"

Zinerva shook her head as she set the tray down. "Not yet, but we've received word they reached the town below. Should be just a few more hours, despite the snow." She glanced out the window, frowning slightly.

The blonde elf chuckled. "If I know. Once Ailean sets his mind to something, he won't see another way. Just like his father."

Zinerva paused, and the elf saw Zinerva glance her way, biting her lip the way she always did when she wanted to ask something, but knew not to. The elf sighed, feeling the weary burden on her shoulders begin to weigh her down. "Zinerva, is there something you wish to ask me?"

Zinerva blinked, a look of surprise on her face, but she shook it off. "It's nothing I haven't asked before." She replied shyly, playing with the ends of her hair. "But I do have another question."

The woman chuckled. "My dear, when do you not have questions? Speak then."

Zinerva paused, then looked at the papers on the desk. "I was wondering, have you given any thought about what I asked? Or have you decided against it?"

The elf stood up, the frown on her lips as she moved away from the desk. "I have."

Zinerva remained silent, and finally the woman spoke. "You must understand my dear, it's a long story, and my memory fails me at some parts. It pains me to think of all the souls lost, and yet I feel the need to have it written down. So much research…" She drifted off, bringing her fingers to her lips. "It would do them all justice, because if not for all of them, then neither of us would be here."

Zinerva looked hopefully at the old woman, who sighed, dropping her hand. "I have been up here all week, and that's all I've accomplished. Pages and pages of blank paper." The woman laughed quietly to herself. "I could pave a road with the words I've thrown aside, so very easily."

Zinerva bit her lip, sitting down. "Well, milady, why don't you start now? You've always been an excellent storyteller, why not tell me the story? I'll write it down, word for word from your lips."

The woman chuckled as she walked to the window. "Then my dear, sit down in my chair, and I'll begin. Don't worry about scratching the wood with the quills." She said, and Zinerva, who had been looking at the desk anxiously, jumped as she sat down.

The woman chuckled as she set her hand on the windowpane gently. "It's made of Ironbark, durable to a fault. It was a gift from a friend of mine, what feels like eons ago. It serves as a reminder of the good times, and a warning to not repeat the mistakes of the past. You may not know it, but each item on the tree means something, something from the story I'm about to tell you." She paused, pulling out a handkerchief and coughed into it softly before stowing it away.

"The story I'm about to dictate is not a tall tale, everything in this story, while highly illogical and sometimes completely irrational, is true, as far as I know. It begins with a girl, deep in the woods, about to begin on the biggest change of her life, accompanied with only bows and arrows, a friend, and an extremely… irrational outlook on the world."

"This is the story of Lyna, nearly one of the last Grey Wardens in Ferelden, and one of the youngest, recruited when she was not even 19. She fought for Ferelden when Ferelden needed her most, even though many did not know it. She led the battle in the last Blight, earning a name and title that few elves have ever received, earning her place among the greats of our times. Her labors went unnoticed, but she freed Ferelden from the darkspawn's clutches with help of a rag tag group of warriors and adventurers. Her blade ended a terrible regime, and the life of an Archdemon, despite terrible odds and losses."

The woman paused, staring out past at the snow slowly falling to the ground. "May the Dalish Creators protect her in the Black City, and may the need for warriors like her never arise again."

So this is my first time with writing a story for Dragon Age. I was bored with my other fanfiction, and I wanted to try something new. I'd been toying with the idea for a while, and decided to publish it finally. Hope you enjoy it and hope you stick around to read the next few chapters! :3