#dova

Éowyn is an odd woman, Orphaned tragically at an early age.. the only Daughter of a proud Nord Mother, a Shieldmaden of mighty renown with heroic Ancestral blood and who retired rather comfortably as a famously skilled traveling seemstress across the many Holds of Skyrim.

And then there’s her Breton Father, a kind and gentle hearted merchant who vanished without a trace before she was even born… presumably dead at the hands of merciless bandits. And His body was never found.. instead a simple grave laid empty, only baring his name.

Éowyn spent her early childhood learning needle work and embroidery in the Winter, then the many Arts of battle during the rest of the year.. all at the capable, patient and skillfully adept hands of her Mother… the happiest days she ever knew.

Until… One day her Mother was found dead on the road after delivering an elaborate gown to her most well known patron late in the night… Blood soaked her battered fists and copious wounds clung all over her body, proof she remained a true and valiant Shieldmaden to the very End.. and the tell tale mark of a Black hand was painted on a dirty piece of cloth draped over her then pale lifeless face…..

On that day… Éowyn’s pure innocence ended. She become partially mute to the rest of the world, and was only ever seen softly speaking in quivering tones to her Mothers grave beside her Father’s empty one..

Eventually She was taken in by an apparent “distant relative” of her Father.. or so HE claimed, clearly a lie as he was a Nord, not a Breton. Very few knew that precious detail…

He was an abusive man and a wreched drunk…. Waisting her Mother’s coin on cheep mead and foolish wagers, but… she was still a child.. one who didn’t often speak anymore either.. who would’ve listened to her anyway?

Though she lived just outside of whiterun.. she had no connections… no one to defend or help her.. except for the voices of her Mothers memory.

Eventually she grew tired of the silence she herself imposed on her own tongue.. gradually beginning to speak again little by little.. which only angered the man who posed as her Kin.. as she Maintained her silence to him alone… then at 16 she Openly revealed her Father’s Breton blood to everyone who could hear.. bringing into question the clear stranger who took charge of her for so many years….

The night before the Gaurds would come to take the Wrech of a man away, as he was soon identified as a known conman, the Drunkerd barged into her room to find her packing a satchel.. his rage only intensified at the sight… though he was once tall and frightening to her as a child…

Éowyn was a frightened child no longer, now she was a Tall young woman with years of continuing her Mother’s training in secret.. She now had the strength and courage to fend off his fists from striking her again…… or… so she thought.. for she was far stronger than she knew….. as with only one strike to his head… the man now laid Dead before her… and without waiting a moment for a goodbye to her childhood home.. she ran into the night… intending to never look back.

No one in Whiterun knew it was her who killed him.. instead they all Believed her home was attacked by bandits, as the Conman had wrecked the place in his drunken rage… Éowyn was assumed to have escaped, as she had told many of her plans to flee when she was ready…..

And so.. Éowyn spent many years as a Mercenary for higher… with her own personal moral code… she was never truly averse to Killing.. if she found it deserved.. especially in the defense of Children.. those Abused or unjustly discriminated against…

If she found someone to be unworthy of redemption… well.. she wouldn’t lose sleep over it… nor would she ever feel any weight on her conscience.

For the “What if” on the Fates of those she defended were always infinitely more important to her… as she always wondered.. what would’ve happened to Her If she hadn’t struck her abusive “Caretaker” first on that fateful night??

She would probably be dead….

As the years passed her by, Éowyn began to tire from all her aimlessly wandering with no real Home to rest in after a long journey or after surviving a particularly difficult dungeon… She wanted to settle down somewhere, or at least to have a Home all her own…. Specifically… she wished to finally return to her old home in Whiterun..

However….. not long after she fled, she had received word that a storm destroyed what little remained of her Mother’s old Cottage… but even still, she wished to return. Not only for the peace of having her own home to rest.. but also to try and investigate her Mother’s Murder… as one thing was certain…. Someone had hired the Dark Brotherhood to kill her mother.

Eventually, she accepted a Job from a man named Dupan… with a reward attached that was more than enough to buy the house she had her eyes on.. and She ended up finding a new friend along the way.. a troubled but seemingly lighthearted Blue furred Kahjiit.. named Inigo.

And with Inigo’s particular sense of humor bringing a genuine smile back to her face that she hadn’t felt in years… the two of them grew closer over the course of their Job for Dupan…… but.. unknown to Éowyn, Inigo had very deep struggles with Skooma, spurred on by many tragedies as a means to escape his grief… and Dupan had made a remark on if She or Inigo were to “Fall” on the Job, the survivor would receive Both parties rewards..

The results?? A new scar on the side of her head behind her hair. A head full of Foggy memories that just slowly cleared up.. and complete loss of the last five months… meaning all her memories of her friend Inigo and their Job with Dupan were gone.. at least for now…

And thus a new start began….

The first thing she remembered after recovery was her plan to move back to Whiterun, and after a few more… well.. particularly difficult bodyguard jobs, one ended in her almost beating the shit out of her charge when he repeatedly tried to ‘convince her’ to marry him…. He eventually gave up once she threatened to have his ‘family line cut short’ She finally had enough Septims to purchase a home, Breezehome in the planes district of the city. Still taking on the occasional job and adventure… but at a far less maddening pace..

That is.. until she has a dream… a slow carriage ride, her hands tied and her mind fogged… she’s a Prisoner.. along with a horse thief, two Stormcloak rebels… with one of them being the gagged Yarl of Windhelm himself, Ulfric Stormcloak.

She’s sent to the block for execution, till a black Dragon came. Her life is spared at the cost of many….. as the Dragon flies..

Then… she awakens.. in a cold sweat and with a racing heart.

The great adventure of her life… had only just begun.

For the Last Dragonborn comes…