Note: Ok, if this story plays out the way I planned it, it is going to get very complicated, so bare with me. It starts out a bit slow, but will pick up pace eventually. There is also a small problem concerning continuity with the Oblivion plot line. This is a sequel which takes place roughly twenty years later after the Oblivion crisis. For this to work out, in my world, Martin survives the ending and becomes Emperor (I'll try and think of an reason later). Other than that, it should be really faithful to the world of Elder Scrolls...so...enjoy!

Chapter 1

Eowyn walked slowly through the keep, groggy from just being roused from sleep. The Dunmer had been woken from a rather enjoyable dream, which involved him, three naked maidens, and a dimly lit room.

Remembering what day it was, he threw on a poorly buttoned tunic and the first pair of breeches he could find. He didn't bother brushing his -now greasy- black hair. It was short, shorter than most men in the castle, and decided it was presentable enough. Bags under his eyes, and his green-blue skin pillow marked: the dunmer youth went on his way.

He embraced the heat of the morning sun as sunlight oozed leisurely through the stained glass windows. Depicted on those windows were historical events throughout Morrowind's history: Great battles, coronations, ect which he took little interest in. That was something Tamira excelled at, and he was on his way to see her now. She was most likely out in the garden reading or feeding the exotic Black Marsh bred fish in the pond. She was always an early riser, in fact, his whole family were early risers, always awake before sunrise.

He began to pick up his pace a bit, walking briskly past servants and maids who were getting the keep ready for the day. He was glad his father was not around to comment on his appearance. He jumped down the main stairs two at a time and walked out into the courtyard to the familiar ringing of swordplay. No doubt that meant Banor was around.

Banor was a few years older than Eowyn, and was heir to their fathers title, Lord of Tear. He was a master swordsman, winner of many a tourney, and gained the respect of all around him. This was apposed to Eowyn who considered his greatest accomplishment was bedding the castle's mage, Mir, who was the desire of every man in the castle. It took some time, but Eowyn finally managed to seduce the cold woman, with the help of his good friend whiskey. Never the less, when his father found out about the whole incident, she was expelled from his services, much to the disappointment of the men. Well, not unless you included Sir Wayman. He always did have a preference for young boys.

As predicted, Eowyn found Banor in the old barracks along with Warren, an Imperial boy who served as his page.

"M..M...Master Eowyn." the boy mumbled as he watched the Dunmer enter. Banor turned and noticed his younger brother standing in the doorway.

"Ahh, I see you've woken at last." He jested. "Leave us." He ordered quickly to the boy.

" Ye...Yes Master." Warren whisked past Eowyn, avoiding all eye contact, as if those fiery eyes were gates into Oblivion itself.

"Come, sit, what kept you so long? You look aweful" He ran his dirt stained hands through his ash coloured hair, a nervous habit Banor had developed.

Eowyn smirked. "I was with a lovely wench, if you must know." He sat down on the bench opposite Banor, ignoring the fact that it was covered in soot and that he was wearing his fine silk.

"A wench, you, say..." A smile slowly crept up his brothers face. "...have I had her?"

" I doubt it...an Argonian, with breasts the size of a Bretons ego."

" That is big." Banor whispered, but his smile faded. "Argonians are vile creatures, you best stay away from them, or else your manhood will sprout scales, and become cold to the touch, and no decent woman will come anywhere near you..."

"Oh but dear brother, you see, she came pleading to me, her body cold and wet." It made him tremble with affection just thinking of it. "And she needed a man to keep her nice and warm for the night. It would be unlordly to just refuse her point blank." He chuckled to himself. He stretched, and stiffled a long yawn. Banor looked at his brother, sadness in his eyes. Those eyes brought him back to reality.

"Its best you grow up Eowyn..."

"Yes father." He joked. He always hated when his brother acted all mature towards him. Like a superior.

"No, im serious." He leaned back on the bench. "You're what, sixteen, seventeen...no seventeen, thats right." He seemed to think about this. Banor, always thinking. "Old enough to be married I say." Eowyn winced. "You must become an honest man, no more fooling around with common folk...and lizards." Seeing his brother so solem like this made him worried. He knew what this was all really about.

"When are you going to meet her?" He asked after an awkward silence. It was cruel of him to bring it up, but it had to be confronted eventually. Banor's dark purple skin went pale.

"What do you mean?" He asked, feigning ignorance.

"That Dolora girl." Even mentioning her name seemed to send the sun behind the clouds.

"Oh...her." The name struck a cord in Banor. About a month ago, their dear father decided it would be best for Banor to marry quickly and produce heirs, considering what lay ahead in his future. He drew up a deal with an up and coming merchant family from Cheydinhal by marrying their youngest daughter to him, against his wishes. It became the topic of many arguments.

"Yes...her." The tought that this woman was the reason behind Banors change was scary. She was only a woman after all.

" Sometime during the month I suppose. May as well get it over with quickly" He sighed, running his hand through his hair again. "You know Ewoyn, its the only thing I've truely feared my whole life. Hunting, i can do, jousting, not a problem, leading men into battle, simple. But marriage, marriage is on a whole different level. This woman..." He looked down at his feet, as if the solution to his problem would be there. "And thats not all. What if I end up with a hag." The solem silence was broken by the howl of laughter that errupted from the brothers.

"That would be something." Eowyn jeered. He decided to run with this, lighten the mood. " Her nose to big, her eyes to small, breasts like apples and legs belonging to a chicken... and the brain of an Orc." He hastily added. Laughter escaped them once more, bringing the sun back out from behind the clouds.

"A fine specimen." Banor cheered. The laughter died down. Once again, all attention went to his feet. "I do hope she isn't a hag though." His momentary pause allowed the sound of swords from outside to invade the silence. "Her sister married Count Farwil, and reports have it he has her sleeping out with the dogs." Their roaring drowned out the clash of steel.

"All this talk about women." Said Eowyn, as he tried to calm himself down, with much trouble. "And no mention of Tamira."

"Thats right!" Banor exclaimed, who also found it hard to keep down the laughs. "I almost forgot." He jerked up and walked over to a small wooden cabinet, his red cape billowing behind him in his hurry . He reached in and pulled out a long item, covered in cloth.

"Thats it then?" Eowyn asked.

"Yes. I was working on it all month." Eowyn went to draw back the cloth, but Banor whisked it away. "Do you think she'll like it?" He was worried. He hated diappointing people.

"Knowing our sister, she'll find something to complain about it." He sneered.

The item was handed over to Eowyn with great caution, as if what he was handeling was made of glass. It was light, not as heavy as he thought it would be, but then again, it was customized.

"The scabbard won't be ready for another day or two. You could bring her a temporary one if you like." He looked around the open space, as if he were missing something of importance. He gave up. "Tell her I wish her a happy birthday."

"Sure will." He replied without hesitation, having second thoughts about the gift. Maybe we should have gone with a kitten. "Do you know where I will find her?"

"Warren said he saw her out in the corn fields." Their was a hint of disgust in his tone.

"The fields?" Again?

"Talking to the workers. I see she has taken after you for showing sympathey to the lizards." He spat. Now that was a habit Banor had since he was a kid.

"How are they suppose to get work done if they're talking to her?"

"Beats me." Banor sighed. His thoughts were elsewhere. "Speaking of work, I better get started with the initiates. Now be gone."

After scourging the hundreds of work fields which the city of Tear is famous for, Eowyn eventually found his wayward sister, getting lessons off an obviously distressed Khajiit on how to use a reaper.

"So here you you are." He beamed, interrupting the lesson. She had her back turned, giving him a good view of the mess she made of trying to braid her raven coloured hair herself. It appeared she tried to cover it up by sticking small flowers in it. Instead it made it look like a nest. A rats nest. She was dressed in casual attire: a simple woolen top with some old pair of breeches. He also noted that she was shoeless.

"Oh, hi Eowyn." She didn't even bother turning around, to engulfed in the lesson. "Did you know that using a reaper is all in the hips." She grasped the reaper from the poor workers hands and tried to demonstrate her new found skill before her brother stopped her.

"A lady has no need for using a reaper." He said calmly.

"Well then a good thing I am not a lady." She retorted, equally as calm. She flashed her brother a sly smile. He handed the tool back the the Khajiit and pulled his sister away, getting dirl on the woolen top from the soot he gathered on his hand from earlier.

"You can't be doing this to them" He whispered to as he led her along the rows of corn. "If father caught you talking to them, he'd have them fired, or worse."

"You mean like what he did to the mage?" Her tone was full of knowing. She had him cornered, and all he could do was smile.

"That was different." But was it really?

"How? At least I'm not trying to lure them back to my bed chamber."

"Good, I'd cut off the poor sop's manhood if I'd caught him trying to." He was always very protective of his sister. Just thinking about someone trying to unclothe her brought disturbing thought to his head. "Couldn't you do something, I don't know, more useful?"

"Its better than being stuck up in the keep all day. And you never know, a reaper may come in handy one of these days." She protested. Arguing was something which she prided herself at. She has never been known to loose an argument, even with Lord Dres. "Whats that behind your back?" Eowyn had forgotten completley about the present.

"Oh, this..erm...happy birthday." He handed the clothed item to her. Her pale, blue, slender face turned to look at him. The wind was blowing long strands of hair into her face, covering her burning eyes and dispercing the flowers. Although he couldn't see them, he knew here eyes were filled with shock.

"My birthday? By the Nine it is! How could I have forgotten?" She was evidently angry with herself, as demonstrated by punching a nearby tree. But when she turned to look at him again she was suprised "More shockingly, how did YOU remember?"

"Well, you are my..." But before he could finish she had him in a tight hug.

"Thank you." She whispered. She let go of him, and took the gift from him. "What is it? Whatever it is, it's light."

"Just open it" He was eager to see her reaction. He was probably as excited as she was, for he had yet to see the finished product.

She unwrapped the cloth, and the look on her face was worth the wait. For the first time in her life, Tamira was lost for words. What lay in her hands was a sword. Not an ordinary sword, though. It had been modified to suit her weight and height, and was made from the finest blue coloured glass, to compliment her skin. The hilt had an intricate spiraling design made from emeralds and other gems, which ended in the heads of two serpants. She held the blade up to the sun, causing magnificent aqua rays to shine out from the weapon. Eowyn was astounded that his brother mustered enough patience to create such a fine piece of work. He felt slightly jealous of Tamira at that moment.

"This...this is mine?" She managed.

"Sure is." She went in for another hug. "Woah...slow down, with that thing you could take my arm off." He immediatly regreted planting that idea in her mind.

" Then why didn't you give me with a scabbard? Do you expect me to hand it off of my belt and hope it dosn't take my leg off?"

"Banor's still working on that. If you want you can get a temporary one from the barracks."

Her face softened. "This is the nicest thing anyone has done for me. But why? After all, what use does a lady have with a sword, huh? I thought you all disaproved of me using weapons." It was true. She had a habit of sneeking away from her sewing or history lessons, stealing swords from the armory and practising on old trees outside the city. She would come home cut and dirty, Lord Dres shouting at her insolence, her brothers laughing at her attempts.

"Well, as I say, you're only sixteen once. But for the Nine, dont tell father, or anyone for that matter. Infact I'm beggining to regret giving this to you out here in the fields."

"Don't worry, they wont say anything." She took a few practice swings with the sword. "Do you think I should name it? All the swords in the legends have names, like Umbra. And The Champion of Cyrodiil named his aswell, but I can't remeber the name."

"Go on then." He noticed that some of the workers had stopped what they were doing and were listening in. "Get back to work." He shouted, in his most threatening voice, which wasn't very threatening at all. Good thing I'm not destined for lordship he thought.

"It's hard."

"What is?" He was distracted by the workers.

"Naming it. Its alot harder than I thought. A whole bunch of name come to mind, but none of them do it any justice...its just so...magnificent."

"Well you can sleep on it then." He put an arm around his sister and they made their way back to the keep.

The keep was a grey stoned labyrinth of walls and towers, courtyards and tunnels, spreading out in all directions. In the older parts of the castle, the halls slanted up and down, so that you couldn't even be sure what floor you were on. As a child, Eowyn would climb to top of the keep and see all of Tear in a glance. He had liked the way it looked, spread out beneath him, while the life of the castle went on below. He perched there for hours among the shapeless, rain worn gargoyles, watching it all. It made him feel Lord of the castle in a way even his father wouldn't understand.

As they entered the Main Hall, now bustling with lords and ladies, commoners and peasants all wishing to seek council with Lord Dres, Eowyn was reminded of something.

"I almost forgot, we have a party planned for you." He decided to get his sister out of there. If someone important had seen her in this state, she'd be a laughing stock, although something told him she wouldn't care.

"First a sword, now a party, I must be dreaming." She nudged him. "Well, when is it?"

"In a week or two, father is organizing it. Its in Balmora."

"Why so far away?"

"Because Vuhon dosn't want to come this far down." They turned and proceeded up the main staircase, carefully covering the sword and avoiding all eye contact.

"Vuhon will be there! That'll be great. Its been so long since I've seen him. Since he became King."

"I know. Even I'm nervous about seeing him. Power can change people." As they made their way, they passed under the portraits of all the lords of Tear, since The War of the First Council. The current Lord, Chimer Dres, father of Tamira, Eowyn and Banor, was at the end, rendered in beautiful greens and blues.

"Vuhon is still our friend." She said. "Nothing can change that."

Later that night, a small feast had been arranged in celebration of Tamiras birthday, merely a placeholder for the real event.. The Great Hall was hazy with smoke and heavy with the smell of roasted meat and fresh baked bread. Its grey stone walls were drapped with glorious banners of greens and gold. A singer was playing the harp and reciting a ballad, requested by a young Imperial woman. Eowyn, Branon and Tamira were seated at raised alter, along with Lord Dres and other nobles, such as Lord and Lady Belmoth and Sir Dalton. Eowyn was seated beside Banor, and on his other side, Sir Dalton. He made fine company, and Eowyn relished in his tales of battle, bedding and the hunt. He was certain his companion was more entertaining than the Lords and Ladies, of which Tamira was nestled in between. She did not look happy.

Tamira had really dressed up tonight, compared to what she wore out in the fields. A jeweled tiara gleamed amidst her raven hair, now properly brushed and flower free, its rubies a perfect match for the red of her eyes. She wore a simple red gown with a rose theme, which gave her a maturity well beyond her sixteen years. Eowyn and Banor dressed simple, green silk lined with white wool. The feast lasted a good two hours before the food was cleared up and the tables set aside for dancing. Many were to fat with chicked and mudcrab to be in the mood for dancing, but they tried anyway. First up was Tamira and Lord Dres. Father and daughter. Eowyn never saw his father look so proud of her as he did at that moment. His father was most certainly complicated when it came to his children. After they finished their dance, the rest flocked in, grabbing the nearest person for a partner. Eowyn watched with amusment as a drunk Sir Dalton tried to talk a young serving girl into dancing with him.

His thoughts came to the Argonian with whom he had spent the night with, and decided he should try and find her, but before he could, Lord Dres called him aside. The Lord opened a door which led into the large kitchen, a familiar place for Eowyn. All the cooks had abandoned their stations to go partake in the dancing, and left the cats come in from outside and nibble on the bits of scraps left over.

"It is of my understanding" his father began. "That you gave your sister a gift this morning."

"That is true." He replied, not liking where this was going. The deilcous aroma of baked mudcrab didn't help either.

"Is it also true that this...'gift', for lack of a better word, was a sharp instrument?" His father had leened in closer to him, making every wrincle on his dark face a canyon.

"Yes...I gave her a reaper..."

"Don't be smart with me." He said calmy, almost mono-tone. "I have it on good account that you and your brother gave her a sword...a fucking sword." This was also said with the same calmness. He walked over to one of the cats, which appeared to be missing an eye, and started stroking it. "I understand that it was an act of kindness, but out of everything you could possibly have given her, a sword. You must understand that you can no longer encourage this behavior in her. She is a lady. You know what lies ahead for her. No one would want her for a wife if she would rather ride a horse into battle than ride a man to pleasure, pardon the obsenity."

"I understand father." He said blankly. His mind was racing, trying to figure out who snitched. There had many workers out on the field, and one must have grabbed this oppurtunity to gain favorship from the boss. When I find out who did it, he thought that reaper will be put to better use.

"Good. I will allow her to keep the sword so long as she stays out of my sight with it and no longer wanders off fighting trees." He looked desperate recalling the memories. "Could you imagine if she was seen by one of the nobility?"

With that his father walked away mumbling to himself about the subject, leaving Eowyn alone in the kitchen, with the cats. That was until a maid came crashing in through the door, her arms wrapped around a stableboy, shoving their tounges down eachothers throat. They seemed to be competeing to see who could remove all their clothes first, all the while oblivious to Eowyn. The stableboy, a Redguard youth, swiped all cooking apparatus from the table top, scaring off a small tabby in the process, and bent the maid over the hard surface. Before things got too serious he took his leave and remembered his search for that Argonian he had spent the night with.

His search was in vain. There was no sign of the woman anywhere, and he wasn't in the mood to have anyone else, so he went to sleep that night without a partner. Stretched out on his canopy bed, he unbuttened his tunic and lazily dropped it onto the floor. The maids would take care of that. He scratched at his slender chest and tried to get under the covers. He didn't care too much at the moment, his brain to dazed from excessive amount of whiskey. All he wanted right now was a good nights sleep.

He dreamt that night. This time, id didn't involve three naked maidens.

He was wading through snow, towards mountains in the distance. He was battle worn, cuts all over, his blue- black hair, longer that it was now; blood soaked. In his hand was Tamira's sword, also bearing the signs of battle. As he made his way, he came upon a tower. Not particularly big. Inside was what he was looking for, but he could not bring himself to go inside just yet, fearing what he might find. A dragon awaited.

Thats the first chapter folks. Things should pick up in later chapters, I'm just trying to introduce the main characters before throwwing them into the horrors I've laid out for them (cue evil laugh).

Feel free to review, it will be greatly appreciated. Also any feedback on where I can improve would be nice too. Thanks, and hope you enjoy.