Eva wandered aimlessly through Du Weldenvarden considering the improbability of existence. The birds sung and chattered of her coming, she did not go unnoticed in the land- for some reason. She tripped and fell, cursing. Her dark brown hair fell about her face in an irritating fashion. She groaned as she looked down at her bloodied knee. "Waise Heill." she sullenly uttered. Why did she have to be so clumsy? Her Mother was so elegant and beautiful, her father lithe and strong. It must come from her father's side. Not that she had seen much of him. Her parents kept her existence a secret, with two exceptions- Lord Dathedr and Rhunon. They were petrified that someone would try to use her to influence them. Most of the time she lived alone with Maud, the werecat, and Rhunon, the old metal worker from before the age of the Riders. Blunt, ironic, yet good Rhunon was, and had done a decent job of rearing Eva. She had provided Eva with various scrolls from a young age, taught her the two alphabets and left her to her own devices, as far as studies were concerned. The rest of the time was free for Eva to spend at will. Eva had two main wishes in life:- to be loved, not ashamed by her parents; and to become a Dragon Rider. Eva was now thirteen and had touched many a dragon egg brought by her mother, astounded and passionately in love with each of the eggs, loathe to release them from her touch. She would stroke the flowing patterns, watchful, hopeful and desperate. On one of the rare occasions she had visited her father, she had overheard him say- "It would be easier if she were a Rider. Then she needn't be hidden away. She would be capable of protecting herself." Angered and distraught, she was under the belief that she would be appreciated by her parents if she had a Dragon, they would love her unconditionally and she would see them all of the time. She daydreamed about the prospect most of the time. Which was why she had tripped over the tree. "Barzûln!" she swore when she realised she had yet again ripped her leggings open. She decided to leave off mending it with magic. Despite her parents being two of the strongest spellcasters in Alagaësia, she had trouble with everything apart from healing and growing. She even struggled to lift a pebble two feet in the air for more than five seconds. She kept walking to her favourite place. The Lochan Lilja. When she reached the bank she bent down and stared at her reflection. She had thick, awkward locks which sat in an odd combination of curls and straight strands down her back. Her nose was too small, and twisted almost unnoticeably at the end. When she smiled one side spread further than the other, but only she saw that. Her eyes were large and widely spaced, an aqua colour, with flecks of green and grey concealed by a fringe of close, black lashes of medium length. She had an almost heart-shaped face and slightly tapered ears. Eva was awkwardly tall, not amazingly so, but enough to make her feel like an old pine among saplings. She had never met any whole-humans, and never any elven children. She had seen some from a distance, and she did not match their eloquence, glowing beauty and even features. She felt a scraggly half-caste. Which is exactly what I am, she thought. She must look like her father did before he was changed. For the first time ever, he had visited her. It was a shock, not a week ago, to see him in her little wooden home, leaning against her furniture, laughing- the sound echoing off her walls. It was a completely unexpected visit- and that aggravated her. She normally had time to prepare herself for such a meeting- she would school herself to be cool and unfeeling toward. Not that it ever worked. She always felt like she needed to please him. Impress him. Show him how well she had turned out without any of his help. Her Mother less so, as she had actually stayed and looked after her at least a week per moon, as much time as she could spare without abandoning her duties. But of late her trips had been less regular and more sporadic. Rumours of trouble in the land were whispered by the trees, whispered by flowers and sung of by birds. When her father randomly came, she challenged him to a duel. Ever since she overheard that conversation she had thought about it, turning it over and over in her mind; scrutinising it. "… She would be capable of protecting herself." … Capable! Ha! She'd show him! Every day since she had returned to The Guarding Forest she had sparred for half an hour before breakfast with Rhunon, and an hour before bed. She grew strong, and graceful with a sword. She could within three months hold her own against Rhunon for five minutes. But then she would mess up. She always seemed to mess up. Watching these bouts of fighting, her mother, one day had said- "A wise dragon once said- 'You have to learn to see what you are looking at,' Eva; try and dissect the meaning of this. When you understand, you will be able to hold strong against any opponent."
Eva was twelve then. On the day of the Summer Solstice, it came to her. She saw a butterfly, and understood exactly everything about it. It clicked. From then onwards the world contained new wonders. She researched and thought about most every creature for weeks until she knew it inside out. She related this to Maud. "Now you can truly see what you see." Wow! Eva comprehended! All she had to do was apply this to Rhunon, and then she could best her. For the rest of the day Eva followed Rhunon watching everything she did, reassessing and reviewing everything she knew about her. When it was twilight Eva wandered to the clearing where they sparred and readied herself. "Are you ready, child?" Rhunon taunted. "Prepare yourself to be beaten, again."
"Ahhh. Rhunon, don't delude yourself. I am more than a match for an antique item such as yourself!" Eva responded playfully. Rhunon mock gasped in horror. "You rude little thing! You shall regret that!"
Rhunon leapt at Eva, sword outstretched and deadly. Eva darted to the side, teasing- "Are you so slow that you can't keep up with a youth like I?" She counter-attacked with a swift undercut, but Rhunon defended herself and with a series of clashes of metal they exchanged a rally of thrusts and parries. Eva retreated to the left, knowing that Rhunon would be tempted to attack from the right. The attack came, Eva watched Rhunon's impassive face less than her body as muscle twitches betrayed intentions sooner than the expression. Eva defended herself before the blow had even started it's journey. She pressed her sword against Rhunon's neck. "What the…?! Well if the little chick hasn't taken her mother's advice at last. It's about time! I was getting tired of beating you. Now we will spar once for half an hour in the mornings only."
When Eva challenged her father to a duel she was uncomfortable, spiteful, and angry. He thought she was weak- he had said so himself. She would show him! He took at his iridescent blue blade, and she her silver sword. It was not a Rider's sword, but it was still regal. It too had the mix of bright-steel within it, so she would not be at a disadvantage on account of her weapon. When they reached the clearing, the animals ceased chattering, and turned their heads to watch. Eva watched her father carefully as he raised his brows and asked her if she was sure she wanted to do this. She nodded affirmative. Eva began to worry as they exchanged hits. I barely know anything about him; how can I possibly hope to see him for what he is? Still, she was good, and he was startled by her finesse with a blade, though he hid it quickly. She grinned, take that, you pathetic man! How can you be a hero and not care enough for your own daughter to know of her pastimes?! They continued for verging on ten minutes in such a way, when he smiled, with a queer expression on his face. Was it… was it... it couldn't be!? Pride! Eva was unhinged. Startled she slowed. He held his sword against her neck, and smiled again. Tears sprung up in her eyes. She couldn't cry! Not now. No- she wouldn't let herself! But she couldn't help it. She dropped her sword on the soft orange pine-needles and ran away. She didn't care where, as long as it was away, away, away. She stopped on the other side of the Lilja. There she stood panting, her chest racked with sobs. She sat down, leaning against a tree, pulled her knees to her chin and wept. There she stayed. It began to rain, the tree sheltered her a little; but it wasn't long before she was soaked to the skin. Eva simply didn't care, she was so confused. Tears mingled with rain so there was little distinction between them.
A warm hand on her back. She was scooped up into someone's arms, but she was so cold she no longer minded. Someone whispered into her hair- "Shhhhh... Shh. Hush now everything is going to be alright. Shh." Eva clung onto the person. When they broke into a run she barely noticed. She fell either asleep or unconscious.
Eva woke up as her hair was being towelled by someone behind her. She turned round. There was her father, a warm affectionate, completely absorbed look on his face. He had stripped off her outer clothes and replaced them with a pair of soft lamarae pyjamas and wrapped her in a blanket by the fire. "You are awake." He stated the fact. "Good, you sure gave us a scare. You were so cold we thought you would have hypothermia!" Relief flooded his face "Thank the stars you didn't! I hope you don't catch pneumonia! Unfortunately it is almost impossible to completely get rid of it by the means of grammarye." Eva felt tears prickle her eyes again. Concern in his eyes, her father dropped the towel and gave her a hug. "Don't cry, everything is fine! Please, relax, everything will be fine."
She fell asleep in his embrace. Gently, he picked her up and carried her up the stairs. He opened the door to her bedroom, somewhere he had never before seen. He pulled back the duvet and carefully laid her down, head softly propped on the pillow. He sat down on a stool engraved with an image of a rearing dragon, being flown at by two smaller ones. He noticed underneath the image of two men, a woman and three children standing before another man. He remembered that day clearly, replayed the events in his mind. Murtagh… Where was he now? Fourteen years had passed since he last saw the poor man. He tore himself from such thoughts, and looked round the child's bedroom. Images of hand-drawn dragons patterned the walls, some drawn by a small wavering hand, others by a firm, understanding one. He saw images of Saphira and Fírnen flirting above the towers of Ilíria, Thorn and Murtagh flying off into the sunset. Arya and Fírnen above a massive swirling river. Saphira and her Rider with a middle aged man, who seemed actually to well represent Brom. Then he saw an image obscured by a picture of Roran Stronghammer fighting an Urgal,