First of all, I want to thank and to apologize everyone that actually read this fanfiction, since English is not my first language, and the text will probably look silly or 'broken'. I promise I'll improve as much as I can, and always search for making it most understandable as possible. I'm also accepting all the (constructive) comments about my work and the translation. Again, thank you and I hope you enjoy it.
Except for Serithra, all characters belong to Bethesda. Also, the history WILL have some of the DLCs content, so you may see spoilers if you didn't play them yet.
Paarthurnax
The dragon slowly opened his eyes. The old scales made a subtle noise when the muscle under them moved, revealing the sparkling iris in the moonlight. The merciless storm roared, hurling against the rocks persistently - but the rocks did not have a warm blood, neither a scaled shell to protect them. Without moving the massive head, the elder watched the snow slipping away violently in the peak of the mountain after trying to pass by the Word Wall and the large spikes on his huge back.
The girl moved against his body, uncomfortable with the low temperature. Even sharing the same blood, her skin was fragile and there was no thick scales to keep her body warm. He knew how Kynareth's creation was unkind with the mortals, even if his massive body was giving hers some heat at this very moment.
The dragon raised his neck, still sleepy, lifting it in the shape of a perfect arch to a height he found adequate, stretching it to let the Thu'um flow through his throat and hole body, and his powerful voice thundered in the peak of the Throat of the World.
- Lok Vah Koor!
He was filled by satisfaction when the weather obeyed, ceasing as if it never was there, leaving back only the echo of his powerful voice. The elder took a deep breath, feeling the cold night air passing on his nostrils, filling his lungs before going back out as dark smoke, result of the oxygen almost getting into combustion inside his throat. When the broken spikes of his jaw nearly touched the snow as he relaxed the huge neck, his left eye moved so he could stare the Breton huddled against his chest, almost hidden in the shadow propagated by the giant wings. The blue-greyish eyes found his, and she was clearly upset with the action of her master. "She's too proud, like all of us". He was amused.
- It wasn't my intention to wake you up, Master. – She uttered in a novice draconic.
- I have slept enough in the last thousand years, Dovahkiin. – He answered gutturally in his mother tong. – I do not teach you the Way of the Voice to forget how to use it, child.
She kept silent for a moment, probably forming word by word the phrase in the Ancient Tongue. She was a notable apprentice, doing the maximum effort to learn how to speak the language of her winged brothers, but Paarthurnax felt in his old bones when he started to teach her that it would require more than only explain what each word means. The dragon blood shared not only the natural power with the Thu'um, but also the primitive and the instinct feelings of his predecessors, the good and the bad ones. Finally, she let out the answer the dragon expected to listen.
- I didn't wanted to bend for something so … - She fell in silence again, staring at him, not sure of which word use. The old dragon didn't even looked like he would help her, leaving her to think a little more about the word she wanted to use, encouraging her with the glassy eye fixed on her small black figure resting on the light leather of his. - … small. – She decided finally.
- Kynareth's creation shouldn't be treated witch such disdain, child. You may have the same dragon blood flowing through your veins… - Paarthurnax moved his wing to get comfortable, now that the apprentice had left it's protection to sit in the snow before him, illuminated by the boreal aurora that took the blizzard's place. – But you do not have the veins of a dragon. You know that, but you do not accept it. – She was clearly uncomfortable, staying in the ground in front of his nose.
- I do accept my mortality, Master. But it doesn't means that I've accepted it's terms.
The jaws armed with powerful teeth opened as he let out a grunt of amusement. The laughter echoed, and put a smile in the nord's mouth. He lowered his head again to look at her, answering calmly, but severely.
- Immortality isn't always a gift, Dovahkiin. Could you see your friends, brothers, sisters and loved ones suffer the time, getting weaker, older and dying, while you… just watch it? Unable to do anything. It's a natural force that you cannot fight against, even if you're immune to it. – The dragon stopped, standing up and stretching. He spread the wings the max he could, and did the same with the neck. The bones cracked in protest at being motionless for so long, and to warm them up, he launched himself at the dark sky of Skyrim, making the ground shake when the huge legs boosted his massive body skyward, leaving a cloud of snow behind him. While making a circle above the mountain, Paarthurnax realized how good he started to feel everytime the girl climbed the mountain to meditate with him. The constant effort of her in learn how to speak the ancient tongue was also rewarding, as express himself turned into an easier task. In fact, it was renewing to talk with someone of his own blood after so many years of silence and seclusion.
The comforting cold air carried him in circles for at least three laps before he landed again, a loud wing-beat directing him back to the peak once more, and he collided in the ground with mastery when landing. The ground trembled in response of the big weight against it. The Dovahkiin remained in the same place, now her little body was turned back to his robust nose. The Dragon did not stared at her, letting his eyes free to cross the colorful dance of the starry blackness around them. Sometimes, the silence was necessary to make the mind's voice audible. She said what he wanted to hear, even if it has taken a long time for it.
- I believe that you end up… understanding. And let the things flow as they need… but… memories are always memories. And some of them hurt more than the sharpest sword or fang. – She opened the mouth to proceed, but her voice succumbed to silence once more, carried away by the wind and unwillingness. Wanting to give her some courage, the ancient stretched his neck until his head was alongside the Breton. She turned her head and sighed, putting her hand in her Mentor's spiky snout to pet it, passing the calloused hand in the rough and thick layer of old scales. She confessed in her own language, wanting it to be very clear – in the same way that talking to her was easier when he did in his own tongue. – When… when all was over, I looked up to the sky of Sovngarde. I felt at home. I wanted to climb the mountains and live there forever. Run to Hall of Valor, sit there and drink, eat and laugh. I saw so many people. How happy they were… And I noticed how my life had only one purpose, and it was fulfilled. It was also imposed by blood, otherwise, I would probably have none. I do not know why I came back, because I will never enter Sovngarde again.
- Ah, you know it very well, Dovahkiin. It is in your instincts, just like as any other needs like eating or sleeping. – He answered, never leaving his position nor moving away. – What I said on the day you returned from Sovngarde, hm?
She moved uncomfortably in the snow, the hispanic skin contrasting with the white ground. Paarthurnax could smell her fears, but he cannot fight them for her. He would serve as her guide as much she needed, or at least try. Many years of knowledge also brought him the indecision, but she even had half of his knowledge – and his age – to be allowed to sink in indecision.
- Melancholy is an easy trap to a Dovah to fall into. – She muttered, back in the draconic language.
- Akatosh made you this way and on these circumstances for a reason. You can either find them or not. It is not ours to know. Alduin was defeated, but that doesn't means it's your only destiny to fulfill. Skyrim still bleeds with the mortal war – which one you can stop – and I'm sure you've earned other obligations during the ascension of your power to overthrow the World-Eater. So, let me ask you now: Why are you back? Why the zest for life was stronger than the eternal rest of the dead?
She remained silent for a long time. By now the night was slowly beginning to be replaced by the dawn, a gradient of the nocturnal shades and diurnal light mingling on the horizon. The girl turned on her axis, without standing up, and staring at the big uncolored eye, she answered her mentor in a comforted way. – Well, for you. For Ralof, Faendal, Brynjolf… for the Guild… For Riverwood and High Hrothgar. To feel the cold air of the winter night and the water drops of the rain. – The shadowmage opened a smile. – For the enemies that fall before my blades, that burn with my fire and tremble at my Thu'um. – Paarthurnax let out another guttural groan of fun, delighted with the close resemblance between them, even being brothers only in blood. Serithra rose, looking at him without raising too much the head, despite still being tiny to him. - Maybe I still have a lot to do.
The ancient dragon moved his massive head to nod, and gently pressed the tip of his huge nose into her cheek. She smiled and closed her eyes at the touch, knowing her master was proud of her.