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AN: Sorry in there's any misspellings, or if it's too fast paced XD First fanfic, rated M for violence and some 't rated' situations in later chapters; No major lemons :P Well, without further ado, here is my Skyrim fanfic :) please R&R ^_^
Recording History. As stated above, Paul brought his conclusion idea for the long medley into the recording studio on July 23rd, 1969. It had been theree weeks since 'Golden Slumbers / Carry That Weight' had been started, the conclusion of this track having an open ending to be built upon later.So finally, Paul brought The Beatles into EMI Studio Three on this day to start recording what the. Read 'The Beating of his Wings' by Paul Hoffman available from Rakuten Kobo. The Beating of his Wings by Paul Hoffman is the final instalment in his epic Cale.
The Beat of a Wing
Shakz'tee shouted his name, but it came out a mere whisper as the words of power left her lips.
'Odahviing!' she choked out.
Sure enough, her dragon came. The beat of his wings soothed her racing mind. She knew her friend would let no harm come to her, he was as loyal as they came. Dragons seemed to value that characteristic, and greatly at that. As the single beat of wings was joined by a second, her slowly closing eyes snapped open. Who else could possibly be here? Alduin was defeated; and the other dragons by now for the most part had simply been indifferent to her presence. It was nerve-wracking.
By now she was starting to cough up blood, as she had been overwhelmed in the surprise attack. Lydia, her housecarl, had been walking behind her, and then out of nowhere had vanished. She'd found her, alright, but not as she'd hoped. She'd found her longtime companion behind some bushed with a slit neck, with some disgusting man grunting and pounding in to Lydia's dead body like no tomorrow. She'd become enraged, as her sister in arms had been her best friend. She slit the man's head off, only to be run through from behind with a dagger. The small, yet deadly weapon had gone through one of her lungs. She still had managed to kill the Nord bitch that stabbed her, though it was getting harder to breathe now that she was on her back in this clearing a little ways off.
Finally, Odahviing and what she found out was Paarthurnax landed. She guessed that they had had been conversing when she'd called. Odahviing's eyes widened in surprise, she guessed because she was so bloody.
'Dovahkin… you are hurt,' He spoke, his words shook the ground.
'We were…' I took in a wheezy breath. '.Attacked. Lydia didn't- ngh- make it..'
'Hush, my young friend. You only worsen your injuries,' Odahviing responded softly.
Through this, she noticed that Paarthurnax simply sat, staring oddly at them both. What was unknown to the red dragon and the little shadowy kahjiit, however, was that Paarthurnax knew their bond was stronger than friendship. It bordered on love, but they both feared the others response to their feelings, seeing the difference in species, so they kept them secret. The old dragon had decided to ponder on it.
'Come, Dovahkin. We must tend to your wound,' Odahviing murmured.
Odahviing POV
He thrust his snout under her back, lifting her off of the ground, then leaned his massive head back, letting her slide down to his neck. She held tight around it, so he gave a mighty flap of his giant wings, and they were off, Paarthurnax in tow. They flew for only a little while, his lair not being far, in the side of a nearby mountain in relativity to from where she'd called him. Once they'd landed in the sheltered mountain cavern, she toppled from his back, dizzy from the height and the loss of blood. Odahviing sniffed her form with obvious worry, his eyes wide with fear, something few dragons could experience. Her life fluids were beginning to pool on the cold stone floor. He nudged her over to a monstrous pile of furry pelts, indented in the center from where he often slept; his bed. He rolled the beautiful black kahjiit to her stomach, and inspected the wound. Oh yes, this was a bad injury, long term recovery would be had; time that he would gladly spend with her. He admitted, he had feelings for the shadowy warrior. He admired the way she fought, stalking quite literally like the panther she was, then striking when her prey least expected.
Snapping from his thoughts, he knew he needed to purify the wound, before the sun went down and the temperature dropped; which was already happening. His tongue sliding from his mouth, he licked the wound clean, making sure to get all of the blood. By Talos, her fur was soft. It felt like the fluff of a newborn foal, he'd know, a newborn animal had graced his stomach many times before. Sighing, he stepped over the now sleeping dragonborn. Curling protectively around his little Dovahkin, he drifted into a light sleep, but not before he could utter a single phrase; I love you.
And unknown to him, she had heard every word.
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He cracked open one eye, the morning light momentarily blinding him. Laying his chin against the fur bedding, he tried not to move too much, as not to wake the tired kahjiit. Little did he know that the small Dovahkin was far from a kahjiit now, about as far away as you could get. He felt the rustle of her stirring, and the corner of his scaly mouth tipped up a bit.
'Dovahkin… You're awake,' He rumbled lowly.
Shakz'tee POV
She moved to stretch her arms in front of her, only to see jet-black, scaly, massive, clawed dragon legs reach out from her sides. She tried to scream, but it came out a thunderous roar, shaking the ground for miles around. Whipping her head around violently, a sleek, shiny black body stretched back to the other side of the furry 'nest'. A massive black tail and two sleek wings… No. This couldn't be happening. It WASN'T happening. The dagger that had stabbed her must have had some illusion poison tipping the blade. Turning her head back around slowly, her eyes wide, she looked to Odahviing. His eyes were just as shocked as hers.
'What in the name of bloody Talos is going on?!' She tried to say, but it came out a roar.
'Calm down, Dovahk-,' he almost said. 'Shakz'tee. You have simply gained a body that suits your soul and voice. Now you can fly through the air, and herald doom or aid to those who you wish it upon. You are now a true Dovah; Inside and out,' He spoke, barely above a rumbling whisper.
She calmed slightly at this. Not to say that she was the image of contentedness, but at least she wasn't bouncing off the walls. This, from her point of view, was a major development. Taking a deep breath, she let it out slowly. If this was to be her existence, so be it. Really, it could be worth a try. Feeling the wind on her scales, soaring under the sun and blasting the sky with her Thu'um… She didn't see too much of a bad side, other than having to leave her human life behind. She could try to negotiate with the jarl of Whiterun to allow her and Odahviing to come and go from Dragonsreach, as she was still a thane, dragon or not. Only time would tell.
Seeing as she was lost in her thoughts, she wouldn't have noticed the red male dragon looking her up and down. While she had stirred around, a lot, she was still somehow in his bedded nest. He felt his dark red cheeks become slightly lighter at that thought. Shrugging it off, he knew it was just the unrequited feeling he had talking. She'd never love him back.
Unknown to him, she was thinking of a similar subject. Now that she was a true Dovah.. Maybe he may love her back? It was frustrating, because as a Kahjiit, she had no chance with him. But now, she just might. Shakz'tee thought that maybe, in this form, she could live our her life with this dragon, if he accepted her, that is.
Discarding the thought, she tried to get to her feet. In this state, she might as well be a helpless wyrmling, because of her trying to get used to this body. She tried to stand, but all that did was raise her rear into the air, seeing as how she was used to standing on two feet. Dropping back to the ground, she let out a growl of frustration. How was she supposed to live this way if she could barely even move? Snorting, she used what felt like arms to bring up her front end, then tried standing. This time, she managed to get off the ground and on to all four feet. Smirking to herself in triumph, she took a step forward.
Odahviing's POV
He was amazed. Honestly. She had just become a Dovah and was already able to move with only slight awkwardness. Aside from the fine body the female had been gifted with, she was a blood dragon, and surprisingly so. He guessed she may have been given Alduin's dovah form for defeating him, just as a female body, not a male's. If that were the case, she'd be very powerful indeed. But knowing her, she'd use that power for good. The thought made him smile. He stood to assist the newly made dovah in learning how to operate her limbs.
'From now on I will call you Shakz'tee, Dovahkin, because you are no longer that of a humanistic form. Do I have your consent to do so?' He rumbled questioningly.
He could see her struggling to form a word with her mouth, so he offered the advice of relaxing her jaw as she spoke. Relief seemed to flood her eyes as the word finally left her mouth.
'Yes,' She said, with a throaty yet deep feminine voice that left his mind in tatters.
How is it that she was so much more perfect as a dovah? He couldn't come up with an answer, so he simply left it knocking around in his head. She looked as though she was carved from obsidian, with sharpened pearls for her fanged teeth and embedded sapphires for eyes, which held a cold blue flame within them. He began to worry at this, yet marveled in the beauty of this female dragon before him. Other male dovahs would be on her in a minute, coaxing her with jewels and gold to be one of their mates. He refused to lose this loving, beautiful dovah before his eyes to some worthless dragon that would treat her like property, her body simply being a life support system for eggs. No, he thought not. She would be his, and he would care for her as though she was the very fire that kept him alive, which it was beginning to seem like she was.
'How will I be able to learn to fly if I can barely walk?!' his Shakz'tee wailed haltingly.
'Calm yourself, Shakz'tee. I will teach you, in due time. For now I believe it is safest for you to stick to the ground, as a fall from too far could result in long term injury, which would halt your learning for quite some time.' He tried to soothe her, but this only seemed to upset her a bit more.
He knew she loved being in the air, he could sense her joy when he flew her to the Sovengarde entrance those few years ago. She was barely older than a child back then, fifteen if he remembered right, now she was nineteen, fully a woman, yet with 70 or so years of her life ahead. Now, she was more likely to last thousands of years, and to see history that even the people themselves would forget. Yet even still, she would look exactly the same when she met her end as she did now. Dragons did not age, they simply exist for a period of time, then die, or some lucky few did not. He himself was still young, about a thousand years old, out of the stages of wyrmlinghood. In fact, he would be around Shakz'tee's age if he weren't a dragon.
Snapping out of his thoughts of age, he turned back to her when he felt her staring.
'Odahviing… Is it true what you said last night?' She asked, barely above a whisper.
His heart leaped in his chest, because he knew what she spoke of; when he'd said aloud his feelings for her. He did not want to lie to the dovah he loved, but he did not know her reaction to his loving her.
'What do you speak of?' He asked hesitantly.
'I do not know if it was a dream or not, but in case it wasn't.. I do too,' She said, the last bit barely audible.
It was all he needed to hear. He slunk slowly forward, and even more slowly, almost painfully so, he brought his fiery red eyes up to her cool blue ones.
'In case you didn't notice…' He started, 'I do,' and was unable to speak afterwards, because she had surprised him, closed the slight distance and pressed her scaly forehead to his.
'Then teach me how to fly.' She stated finally, and snaked her neck around his in almost a twist, likely the only embrace she could think of, due to her new form.
Without another word, he turned and began to walk towards the mouth of the modest cave, and beckoned her to follow with his head. What she hadn't yet known was that learning to fly wasn't a learned skill; it came naturally, like breathing. When she came to the edge of the cave a well, he gave her a look, asking if she was sure. She responded with a confirmation. So, giving her a comical look from his eyes, he head-butted her off of the ledge.
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