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  • Published: 26 Mar 2014
  • Updated: 26 Mar 2014
  • Status: Complete
It's a small story about a Dragonborn, that is being ripped to shreds by her sorrow. It just came to my mind a night where I couldn't sleep, so it isn't that good.


1. Paarthurnax

By the ancient word wall, at the Throat of the World she sat. And with tears in the corners of her eyes, she whispered silently... "Paarthurnax... I'm back... I brought you a present..." The argonian warrior pulled a small blue object out of her bag. "Look! It's a sapphire... it reminds me of you..." She placed the gem in the snow. "Oh, right!" She then took a flower from her bag.
"It's a blue mountain flower... I... I thought you might like it!"
She smiled at the sky, but frowned as she felt the cold wind on her scales.
"I know you're here, Paarthurnax..." She whispered. "I can feel your presence... I...I feel the warmth of you heart... and the strength of your soul... I beg you... please... answer me..."
She knew what she did, but she denied the thought of his death.
The Blades weren't much of a help, for they were the sinners that wished death upon him. 
It was her duty to slay dragons, but she felt empty inside. Like an altmer without it's magic, or a dog without it's master. Empty and hollow.

"I'm sorry..." She sobbed. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry... I'm sorry..." She kept repeating those pityful words until she realized tears were dripping down her cheeks. "Paarthurnax..." She looked up. "Please just tell me..."

"How could I go so wrong?"

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