hello my minions tis I your prinxe. yes im re writing this story again
itll be the last time i swear! maybe
Darkness. A thing I am unfortunately used to, in Cyrodill I experienced it too. An all consuming, mind numbing, lung crushing blackness. Over time it began to grow comforting. Almost. All too soon I learned what the inky blackness truly meant. Each and every time I grew to like it less. Perhaps this time it will be different.
As is the usual I awake slowly, disorientated at first. It does not take me long at all to realize this is not my home in Cyrodill with my newest lover keeping me warm. Another person may have panicked and believed they were stricken mad, but not I. I am used to it now and i merely sit here, observing.
All around me are unfamiliar faces in an unfamiliar place. Snow capped peaks and pine trees watch me silently while the crisp winters air stings my lungs as I take in a breath I no longer even need but merely take out of habit. Slowly I turn my gaze to the mortals next to me. Three Nords with wrists bound by rope just as mine and one whom is gagged crudely with a rag. What harm could this one pose I wonder?
The youngest one and by far the most fetching finally acknowledges my presence and looks up at me concerned. Fool. "You there, khajiit. Good to see you're finally awake. I was beginning to worry that blow over your head had killed you or something. You were caught in the ambush with the rest of us remember?" An ambush, so that's how they decided to play it off this time. How quaint.
I observe him silently with wine red eyes for a few moments before speaking. "Well I am not dead. 'Twould have been hard to explain this one thinks." Rather hard indeed. And yet truly I am already dead yet not. The blood inside of me is far from my own.
My slight pondering of this is interrupted by the Nord next to the one whom had spoken. This one does not wear armor like the others. How odd. "Damn you Stormcloaks! Before you showed up Skyrim was just fine." How quaint the name Stormcloak seems familiar. "The empire was nice and lazy, If it weren't for you I'd be halfway to Hammerfell with that horse by now!" I bristle slightly in anger, only a fool blames others for his failure.
"Well we are all brothers and sisters in binds now horse thief.."
"And whats his problem huh?"
"Watch your tongue you fool! Thats Ulfric Stormcloak! The true High King of Skyrim!" So. That is who I sit next to and whom stares daggers at me so angrily. Fascinating. Last I had seen of him he was a small lad, brandishing a toy sword, how did he grow into a fool hardy bitter man? If I could be go back in time, change the end, start all over again would he still be there I wonder? Ah but all the little things he did to make me fall in love with him have led me to this bittersweet abyss it would seem.
As the thief begins to panic, smell of his fear permeates the air and he screams out to gods who will ignore his plight. I close my eyes, drifting back in time to that consuming darkness. Darkness being my only companion it shows me images unbidden..days long ago in the mist of time and legend. I sometimes wonder if these events truly happened or had my mind truly shattered when I began my reign...