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modern-inheritance · 4 months ago

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Modern Inheritance: Stay (post-established relationship, extended war timeline)

Summary:

Even though they've been Claimed Mates for over two months, Eragon keeps waking up to an empty cot, Arya fleeing into the night once he falls asleep. His frustration comes to a head when he catches her in the act and she still leaves despite his pleading. Angry and hurt, Eragon confronts his new mate in the morning.

Eragon and Arya have their first argument after becoming mates. Turns out being magic-using, sword-wielding, Shadeslaying war heroes doesn't stop young, quasi-immortal love from hitting the same stumbling blocks as any other relationship.

(A/N: Eragon has abandonment issues. Arya is always walking a line of self sacrifice and duty vs what she wants and loves. Saphira is rolling her eyes at these two because even though she's never had any sort of romantic nor physical relationship, even she knows that you can't stay happy for long if you don't openly communicate.

There's more to this on both Eragon and Arya's sides for why they both are hurting beyond just what we see here, but I can't find a way yet to work it into a long form story.)

STAY

Eragon’s breath was calm, the rise and fall of his chest against her back steady and even. He hadn’t moved for some time now, and for not the first and certainly not the last time Arya cursed her damaged temporal awareness. Had it been long enough? She didn’t want to wake him, not when he was obviously so exhausted from the fighting. But staying risked that far more than leaving.

Carefully, timing her movements by each breath he took, Arya gently took the arm draped over her waist and lifted it just enough to slip out from his hold. She eased herself to the ground beside the cot and gathered her boots and socks in one hand, keeping her new mate in the corner of her vision. Satisfied he had not stirred, Arya shifted to a crouch and rose, silently willing the world to remain quiet for just a few moments longer.

The elf held her breath and stepped toward the tent flap to make her escape.

And suddenly froze, warm fingers tangling with her free hand.

Arya’s heart sank. She turned back to him, feeling her pulse jump to her throat when she saw his face. Not entirely awake, his curls tousled and pressed to the side of his head. The upward tilt of his brows confused and…hurt.

“Stay?” Arya bit her tongue and swallowed hard at a single word so thick with emotion. Eragon’s eyes glinted in the dim light. “Don’t go this time. Please?”

Her chest ached. The elf lowered herself to the ground again, knelt beside the man she loved and pressed her forehead to the back of his hand where he clung to hers. Tried to hide the trembling of her lips. That he could do this to her hurt. Just a few words from his mouth had her screaming inside to give in, to ignore her reality and simply climb back into the damn cot and huddle close to him.

“I can’t.”

“You can.” His grip around her fingers tightened. “Stay with me?”

Inhaling a shaky breath, Arya lifted her head and pressed reverent lips to his knuckles. “You need sleep.” He smelled of tilled earth, warm, soft cotton, dragonfire. Faint traces of milled soap and the tinny water from a washbarrel.

“I sleep better with you here.”

If she waited any longer she ran the risk of him convincing her, those liquid dark eyes and the pleas in his mellow voice.

She still could. She could climb back up beside him, the space she had abandoned still warm. Huddle up to his chest in the narrow cot and bury her face in his shoulder and forget everything for a few hours. Together just for the sake of drinking each other in, for the simple comfort of closeness that she never quite reached when sleeping with her shoulders pressed against Glen’s or waking under the weight of Brom’s heavy coat. Comfort and closeness brother and father by war could not give, and that she could not give in return.

She never wanted to leave him. Never, ever–

Arya abruptly stood and pulled away. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

Eragon’s outstretched arm remained where it was as the canvas flap whispered closed. His hand hung in the thin air where he swore he could still feel her warmth, dissipating in the chill night. He lowered the limb to hang limply over the edge of the cot and curled his legs close to his chest, shivering.

Outside, he felt Saphira stir slightly, the ache and confusion of her partner leaking through their connection.

A gentle hand against her scaled side, a pulse of apology that Eragon could not grasp, and the dragon settled again.

Saphira reached to him in the safety of their link and enveloped his pain with her soothing thoughts, curling around him as she would in their many nights of travel and solace. ‘Sleep, Little One.’

‘She doesn't want me, Saphira. We’re Claimed, but she doesn’t–’

‘Life and love are rarely so simple. Breathe, and rest.’ Saphira nuzzled her mental self’s snout against his chest. ‘Wild dragons such as Arya take time. Worry about this when the sun is up, and ask of her then.’

Throat thick with swallowed emotion, Eragon nodded and returned his partner’s mental embrace. He cast off the blanket and retrieved Brisingr and his shirt, donning them both before slipping out of the tent and clambering over Saphira’s forelegs. She lifted her wing slightly and let him settle against her, a soft hum vibrating through her side.

The low tone soon lulled his troubled mind back into a state of exhausted sleep, all the while missing the press of his mate’s body against his.

Despite morning finding Eragon well rested, he could not calm the roiling of his mind. The more he tried to put the way Arya left out of his thoughts, the more the splinter dug into his brain.

It was not the first time he had woken to an empty space beside him after falling asleep in Arya’s arms, or with her wrapped in his. They had been Claimed Mates for over two months now, and in the nearly two dozen nights they had shared a bed, passionate or otherwise, Eragon could only remember Arya remaining with him till dawn twice.

It…bothered him.

He had shared his troubles with Saphira before. At her urging he had asked Arya why she left, and her simple answer of him and his partner needing uninterrupted sleep had left him dissatisfied but quiet. Despite Saphira telling him in no uncertain terms to push her on it if he still felt upset, Eragon had shrugged it o ff at the time. They were happy together otherwise.

But now…now Saphira was mentally trying to drag him back from the brink of anger as he marched through the camp.

‘Little One, give yourself time on this.’ Saphira’s exasperation was clear, sour in her thoughts. ‘Cooler minds are needed. Do not start this angry, it will not end well.’

‘I have to talk to her about it. I can’t keep doing this.’

‘Then talk to her about it. Do not yell, Little One. I can feel your words pulling at your throat like a battle cry.’

He pushed her away. Saphira’s thoughts flared their wings, the draconic equivalent of throwing one's arms up in frustration, and she retreated to the edge of his mind, a trailing tendril monitoring him as he finally found the subject of his ire.

Glenwing raised his mechanical hand in greeting, fingers giving a chipper click against his palm. “Good morning!” Brom did the same, barely a grunt into his coffee as he took a healthy slurp of the burning liquid.

Arya looked up from the report resting between her hands braced on the camp table, and flashed her mate a bright, vibrant smile. “Well, look who’s up! Figured we should let you sleep in after all the fighting yesterday.”

Eragon gave his father and the medic a curt nod but did not return their typical morning greetings. Instead he stopped a pace away from his original bodyguard, fists jammed into the pockets of his hoodie, and tried to keep the frustration out of his voice.

“We need to talk.”

“Sure.” Arya dipped her head, swiping up the half-full mug of herbal tea that rested beside the morning scout report. “What do you need?”

A fresh surge of animus tightened Eragon’s still stubbled jaw. How could she act so casually when he had begged her to stay the night before? Even with their agreement to keep their relationship as under wraps as possible, how could she not even acknowledge it in the slightest? “In private.”

The mug stopped for just a breath of a second in its travel back to the table. Arya swallowed the sip she had taken, the fire in her eyes warping to stuttered surprise and trepidation for the briefest moment before the ceramic clacked twice on the wood. “Of course. Tent?”

“Please.”

As they turned to leave, Glen caught their attention with metallic knuckles rapped on the abandoned mug. “Meeting in an hour, command pavilion. Don’t forget.” Arya flicked an informal salute off her brow in acknowledgement before the Rider and soldier disappeared out the flap of the mess tent and into the early morning light.

“Are you alright?” Arya reached up a hand to touch his cheek, concern evident. Eragon turned his head away, refusing the contact. The walk to his tent had been short, but even that span had brought his anger to head. Everything felt tight high up in his chest, some creature snapping just below his throat and clawing to get free. He could feel Saphira hovering at the edge of his mind, keeping a respectful distance while taking in the exchange through his senses. She would intervene at a moment’s notice should things get out of hand, but for once Eragon found her presence far from soothing. It buzzed like a lingering insect just out of his sight, and it took all his self control not to push his partner away.

This was his business. Saphira had made her thoughts on the matter clear to him earlier, and he did not want another woman in his life tangling his emotions like so much forgotten yarn.

The elf before him seemed to flinch at his sudden distance, surprise and hurt flashing across emerald eyes in the dim light. The dark little creature struggling to free itself from his throat cackled in glee at the woman’s reaction, taking some satisfaction that she was hurting too, before Eragon felt disgust at himself well up. That wasn’t what this was supposed to be about.

“Eragon, what’s–”

“Why won’t you stay?” Though he did not raise his voice, the words were sharp off his tongue.

Arya blinked, startled at his venom. “I don’t under–”

“You never stay.” Eragon threw a hand towards the cot they both had abandoned the previous night, the bunched blanket cold. “Every time we’ve spent the night together, you leave. You say we’re Claimed Mates, that means we’re there for each other, but the second I’m asleep you run off like you can’t wait to be rid of me!” Arya’s lips parted, eyes wide at the outburst, but he cut her off again. “Arya, you’ve said you love me. You said it in a language that, at its core, should not let you lie! But–But right now, I am really, really starting to question if you picked up some tricks in Ellesméra last time, because the way you act when you leave is sending some mixed signals here!”

He forced his next words past a growing lump in his throat, that angry creature turned to a whimpering and confused ball of pain. He hated that he was even voicing such a question, hated that she had him questioning it all. And hated, most of all, that he was unsure of her answer.

“Do you still even want to be mates?”

Arya grabbed his shoulders. He could feel her hands trembling through his shirt, her grip tight. Something in her eyes was screaming to him before she blinked and tried to cover it, that damned instinct to conceal any weakness even– especially – from him rearing its head. “Yes! Yes, Eragon I–” She suddenly faltered, barely hid the crack in her voice in time. “Unless you don’t, I just…I just want you to be happy, and–”

“Really? Are you sure about that?” Eragon crossed his arms, heart hammering in his chest. Her reaction was not what he had expected. But it was in the open now, and stopping now would fester their thoughts and feelings like fetid meat. “Because out there, we have to pretend that we’re not together, that we’re just what we were before. This tent is the only space we can truly be what we are to each other. And you won’t even stay till dawn!”

“Eragon, you–”

Oh it was well and truly out now. Everything came rushing out of his mouth like dragonfire, spilling and tumbling without the breath to guide it. “Oh, spare me! You’ve already used up the needing to sleep excuses!” Eragon bit down on his tongue, hard, at the sudden panic that flitted across his mate’s face. His voice had jolted in volume, and he had to struggle to pull it back down to kinder levels. “Just tell me the truth. Why won’t you stay, Arya? Do you want this relationship or not? Because honestly, at this point, I don’t need sleep,” A tremor of his lip escaped his control, the lump still building up and threatening to burst from his throat. “I need you! And if you don’t want that, then I think I deserve to be told.”

Arya’s shoulders were hunched, fists tight at her sides as she stared over his shoulder. He could see her shaking through the trembling of the wild fringes of her hair, the bob of her throat as she swallowed.

The silence stretched.

Every second hurt.

Still outside the mess tent, Saphira shifted uneasily. Eragon could smell the trickles of smoke leaking from between her teeth despite the distance. The push-pull of her affection for both of them, her loyalty to and love for him in his pain while a strange understanding of the elf hovered just out of his full vision.

And then finally. Arya spoke.

“I didn’t realize this upset you so much.” Arya’s words were a soft mumble.

Eragon lifted his chin. Her acknowledgement, however small, sparked a trill of pride at making himself heard. “It does.”

Blazing emerald met his gaze, and with a sudden pang Eragon saw unshed tears. “Eragon. I am so sorry. If I had known, I wouldn’t…I would have told you. I didn’t want you to lose sleep over me and–” She stopped herself, taking a deep breath and holding it for a long, long moment. “I do want to remain your Claim Mate, if you would still have me despite this. I haven’t broken the oaths we took. My stars and sun still burn for you.”

Relief flooded Eragon’s chest. A twinge of the hurt remained, but he had her word at the very least. Legs suddenly weak, he stepped back and sat heavily on the cot. Rubbed his face, feeling the prickle of stubble that he had yet to remove as the wave of emotions crashed down from the crown of his head to the tips of his fingers and toes.

At last he looked up at her. Arya still stood, now in front of where he sat, eyes downcast as his had been. Apprehension, something so unusual to see on her, hung about her shoulders in the dimly lit tent.

“Then why won't you stay?” All his pain and confusion leaked into his words. In some odd way, the emotions flowing out made his teeth tingle, as if magic and energy were a part of his raw feelings now made real in the air.

She would not meet his gaze. “I meant it. You need sleep.”

“Damn it, Arya….” The exasperated curse slipped out before he could stop it. He winced, knuckling his forehead as the thread Saphira held with him fired a zap of a warning into his mind. “I’m sorry. That was wrong to say. I’m…I just don’t understand.”

“We’ve said worse while we sparred.”

“That was then. We’re trying to communicate right now, not beat each other black and blue.” Eragon shook his head, curls flopping about his face. “Context is everything. I’m sorry.”

The phrase seemed to snap something in the elf’s countenance, a flutter of sharp brows dipping, the press of lips together in a momentary frown. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.” Arya pushed her hands into the pockets of her combat pants. Through the spidersilk-enforced fabric Eragon could see the barest outline of her knuckles rising up as she dug her fingertips into her legs. Seemingly unsatisfied, she pulled one free and settled it on the hollow between her neck and right shoulder, massaging some knot out of the muscle. “Eragon, when I say you need sleep, I’m…I’m saying you’re less likely to get it when I’m around.”

Eragon snorted softly. It earned him a gentle bump of her boot against his. “I have better self control than that.”

“That’s not what I meant.” The prickly tone pulled him out of the admittedly juvenile lapse. Arya’s frown had returned, expression hard. “I mean me being here would more likely wake you up.” Another jolt of apprehension. She turned her head and looked to the tent flap, fingers pushing hard into the back of her shoulder. “...I get nightmares.”

“I know.” Eragon reached out, offering his hand. That the simple gesture brought a tinge of a blush to the elf’s cheeks warmed his heart through his new confusion. He knew this of her. They had spent plenty of nights wandering the camp together, running laps with Saphira gliding overhead, and shared many late night meals throughout their friendship as the three of them worked their way through memory and misery.

Despite the anger draining, he couldn’t help the edge of exasperation that crept into his voice. “I already told you, Arya. I’m not going to hide when it gets tough. We’re supposed to be here for each other. You’re always there for Saphira and me. I can’t be there for you if you keep running.” He pushed his hand up further, closer to her. “Let me help you. Please! Stop treating me like the kid you met then and just…accept that we’re together in this.”

“Do you think I don’t know that? It’s not that simple!” Eragon blinked at the snap in the elf’s tone, her sharp teeth clicking together with a frustrated hiss. Still, he kept his hand out, not a hint of hesitation displayed anywhere. Arya closed her eyes and breathed, brows twitching as she tried to force the wave of her own anger down. “I don’t like to leave you. I don’t want to leave you. But this isn’t…just nightmares. You deserve–”

“How about you let me worry about what I deserve?” Eragon frowned. “And if it’s complicated, then explain it to me.”

“It’s not–”

“Arya. Enough. Talk to me, please. I want this, I want us, to work more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my entire life.” Still, he refused to move. He would fight for this. For them. “And we can’t do this unless we’re truthful with each other.”

Eyes still closed, Arya bit her lip. Using the afterimage of his outstretched hand burned against her lids, she gently pushed the offered comfort down. She couldn’t take it, not when he was right about this. She had been hiding the truth from him, no matter if it was from a place of concern for him.

“I’ve…I’ve been getting Recall. With the nightmares again.”

Calloused fingers closed around hers. Arya opened her eyes to see Eragon clasping both hands around the one she had tried to push him away with. His gaze was clear, completely unwavering as he held her in place with both touch and emotion.

“That’s never happened before, has it?” Concern was thick in his voice. His anger at her had seemingly fled at the confession, leaving only hurt, confusion, and, in some ways, relief at her assurances. Worry lingered, which was exactly what she had wanted to avoid. “When? Why didn’t you tell me?”

A nod of confirmation. “It started after Varaug.” At least she could name that Shade without her lips twisting in disgust, the syllables catching in her throat whenever his name came up. “He brought up some memories I apparently buried and didn’t really…understand the extent of until then.” Arya shrugged. She felt muscle etched at the surface of what remained of her skin ripple beneath the fingers still gripping her shoulder. “Dras Leona made it worse. It’s just how it goes with these things. I…I didn’t want you being distracted by my stupid fucking issues.”

Eragon pressed a kiss to the back of her hand, a mirror of her actions the previous night. Asked her with deep brown eyes, liquid and softly gleaming, to trust him, to tell him of her hurt so he could hold it with her. The need to know. And the need to help.

“You don’t need to always protect me.” His lips brushed over her skin with each word. “Let me help. Please, Arya. Stay.”

It damn near broke her to refuse him again.

“Eragon…I can’t always tell when I sleep if a nightmare will trigger a Recall episode.” Careful, she knelt down before him, staring up into his face as she covered his own grasping hand with hers. The abandoned patch of scarring pulsed weakly in protest, quieted to a prickling chill at the sudden absence of extra stimulation. “They’re not…they’re not like the times you’ve seen me have them before. The ones where I’m just seeing things or get a flash of something.”

Her grip tightened over his, just barely a second before she forced it to relax. Trying to hide that building stress he could feel hovering over her skin like a smothering blanket. “I never want to leave you. I hate it. I really, really fucking hate it. But Recall like what these nightmares can bring isn’t…it isn’t something you should see. It’s not just something I can be tapped on the shoulder and brought out of, it’s….” She stopped. When she spoke again, her voice was small. “It’s terrifying sometimes. Glen and I see each other through them. We’re more used to it and still, it’s scary to see someone you care for go through it. Grounding doesn’t always work, sometimes you just have to let them ride it out and stop it on their own. And mine are…loud.”

Faster than he could catch, Arya suddenly yanked her hands away from his. She let herself rock back, arms crossed and tucked in close as she pulled her knees up and folded in on herself. As Eragon watched, this woman who had become his goddess of war, second only to his goddess of the skies, seemed to grow smaller right before him in a way she never had before.

“Brom and Glen and Saphira all already know. They didn’t tell you because I asked.” Eragon lowered himself from the cot and settled beside his mate, shoulder to shoulder with her. The fact that his father, her war brother and his Partner of Heart and Mind all knew before he did twinged a spark of jealousy in his chest, but it wasn’t entirely surprising. She had always gone to them first, familiarity and long ties a comfort in chaos when she didn’t want to worry him. “I don’t want you losing sleep because I woke you up with my fucking Recall. I know you. You worry. You’d spend the next nights thinking you need to stay awake to stop it from happening.”

She turned her head to look at him, bracing her cheek on one knee to force herself to remain. “I don’t want you remembering when I woke you up because I was screaming. I…I can’t be the reason you lose sleep. That’s why I leave. That's why I can’t stay.”

He didn’t say anything at first. Instead, Eragon leaned over and settled his shoulder against hers, his head tilting to rest against her hunched upper back. The patched leather that protected her shoulders smelled of her, gunsmoke, worked leather, pine and a battlefield frenzy that lit up her eyes like blazing infernos. It was cool against his cheek, soft even. Her heart muttered through her bones and echoed in his ear, little flutters from a deep seated anxiety she couldn’t quite mask when her very lifeblood could give it away to him.

“I love you.” The mumbled confession, heard so many times before, lifted a scoff he could hear through her shoulder blade. “I love all of you, Arya.”

She rolled her shoulders, the warning subtle, and he obediently lifted his head. A twinge of nerves, still oddly uneasy about him being so close to her scars. It hadn’t been that way till their relationship had started, her shyness about the remnants of her torture surprising them both.

No matter how many times he told her that he loved her inside and out, that strange little spark of concern for how he saw her remained. He filed it away in the back of his mind, a reminder to find some way to put that worry at ease. Someday.

So instead he mirrored her position and tilted his head back until he felt her shift beside him, felt her eyes boring into him as she sat up. Eragon gave her a gentle smile and reached out a hand to toy with her fingers, trying to distract her from the growing apprehension that always accompanied her forays into such vulnerable moments. “Hey?”

“Hm?” Arya blinked at him, owl-like. Still not quite relaxed, but easing into his soft presence again.

“Do you think…” He slipped his fingertips under hers, stroking the patterned ridges of her fingerprints with ghosted traces of his own. “Once the war is over, these Recall episodes will stop?”

Bitter sharpness tinged his mate’s response. “You know it doesn’t work like that.”

“I know, I know.” He kept his voice light, tried to show her through gentle touch and gentle words what he was aching to convey. “But look. Arya. I’m going to be with you as long as you will have me.”

Something flickered in her eyes, a quiet realization.

“I’m going to want to stay with you, and keep you close for as many nights as you can stand.” Careful, letting her read his movements before he got close, he tucked a few of the many wayward strands of hair about her face behind a pointed ear. “I know this is scary. For you, and for me. But I can’t take the running anymore. Not if it’s going to keep happening forever.” He drew his thumb down her cheek and felt her lean into his touch. “So maybe…maybe we try this. I can talk to Glen, if you’ll allow it. He can teach me how to help you when you get Recall. And we’ll both learn. We can try this out, just for a while.”

Eragon leaned in and pressed his forehead to Arya’s. Kissed the tip of her nose. “No matter what, I sleep better with you here. I promise. I love all of you, and that means I am ready to stand by you and hold you through whatever you need me to. And you won’t chase me off.” His eyes were bright, hopeful as she met his gaze. “Please?”

Arya closed her eyes. Drank in the scent of him, the feeling of him close. The things she wanted every time she forced herself to slip away.

“...Okay.” Eragon sucked in a breath as she finally spoke. “I’ll try.”

He kissed her cheek. Her lips. Lingered as she threaded shaky fingers through his curls to keep him close when he broke the gentle contact. “Thank you.”

It was a handful of nights before their schedules aligned again. Arya had trudged into his tent after knocking, looking as utterly exhausted as he felt. Unable to do much in such sorry states, they had simply kicked off their boots and shed their daily outer combat gear and fell into the waiting cot.

He didn’t know when sleep had taken him. The last thing he remembered was Arya’s back through the material of her shirt warm against his bare chest, his hand draped over her side and feeling her breathing even out.

Now, blinking a waking dream from his eyes, Eragon felt a familiar absence. Nothing pressed against his body but the cool night air.

Numbing weight settled on his chest. She had promised him.

Eragon reached out his mind for Saphira’s comforting presence, and then suddenly stopped.

Arya’s mind was still near his. Muted, guarded, ironclad and yet…fuzzy with sleep.

Careful, shifting his hip just so to avoid the one unevenly tensioned patch on the cot that always creaked, Eragon pulled himself to the edge of the frame and peered down.

The sight had him grinning despite the loss of warmth at his side. ‘My silly elf.’

As if she had heard him, Arya let out a soft mumble of protest, coming half awake. She didn’t seem to notice her mate looking down at her, only blindly felt around for the corner of the blanket she had commandeered from their stash and tugged it over her shoulder. She turned again, effectively rolling herself into a woolen cocoon with another soft grumble.

Eragon watched her settle again before laying back. He let one arm drop over the side of the cot, his fingers brushing against his mate’s shoulder.

‘It’s a start.’

#eragon #inheritance cycle #modern inheritance #the inheritance cycle #the world of eragon #modern inheritance stories #ket's modern inheritance cycle #eragon x arya #eragon/arya #e x a #eragon shadeslayer #arya drottningu #arya #saphira #stay #stay with me

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hurricanes-art · 1 year ago

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doodling a fairy tale au concept

dragons have opposable thumbs so they can commit crimes 👍

#eragon #inheritance cycle #murtagh #murtagh morzansson #eragon shadeslayer #arya #nasuada #orrin #murtagh x orrin #my art #murtagh clips his front claws so he can play his instruments #his treasure hoard is musical instruments (and also orrin)#eragon would hoard cool rocks or pinned bugs or books #or all of the above #idk about arya...#alas saphira thorn ect dont exist in this au #its the riders time to be Creatures

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murtagh-thorn · 7 months ago

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Dark Legacies Part I: A New Shadow

Pairing: eventual Murtagh x Rider!Reader Summary: Your and your dragon's arrival at Eragon's academy on has long been expected - and feared. After being on the run for several months from men in masks who want you dead and your dragon as their slave for unknown reasons, you're finally safe on the newly hospitable Vroengard. But what do these men in masks want, will they follow you into a den of dragons, and are you truly safe from the rumor mill and politics of those around you? Warnings: mentions of past trauma, canon-typical violence, reader and her dragon both have trust issues, Vrael is present and annoying. A/N: This is a series of one shots and drabbles that all take place in the same universe. You can read most of them out of order (except for the first two parts that will set up the series) and still understand what's going on, and some elements will be taken from other Murtagh x reader one shots of mine. You can find this series listed in chronological order the Dark Legacies masterlist. PSA: Gormlaith is an Irish name (meaning “illustrious princess”) pronounced GORM-lah.

***

Elves, students, and hatchlings alike scattered as a large, dark shape blocked out the sun. The younger students who hadn’t lived through the torture of tyranny lingered to get a closer look at the giant shape above them, some of their dragons pulling them to safety and others baring their meager fangs in an attempt to protect. Some elves ushered their wards towards the safety of the buildings that made up the island’s academy while others tried to put on a brave face and say it was just some new students arriving – no cause for alarm. But of course, the new students noticed the ruckus below all the same.

All the images and emotions of those under his watch flooded Eragon’s mind as he stood on a grassy knoll a ways out from the campus he and his delegation of elves, dwarves, and humans had built with their own hands. Unable to tolerate their panic any longer, he opened his eyes to watch the already large black dragon grow in size as it flew closer.

“I…heard she’d be large,” Vrael said from behind him, “but not quite…that large.”

Eragon tried to exude an air of calm, standing still as stone with his hands clasped behind his back. He felt Saphira shift behind him with a low growl in her throat.

“Now, now, you two,” he said. “We cannot punish the child for the sins of the father.”

Vrael scoffed. “Well, the closer she gets, the more she definitely looks like her father.”

Eragon finally turned to his companion. “I would respectfully remind you that you’re here to oversee and take information back to your queen. Not pass judgment.”

The elf stared at him for a moment before nodding his head. “Of course, Shur’tugal.”

Eragon turned to watch the duo’s approach once more. “You said some elven scouts had seen them wandering about the borders of Du Weldenvarden?”

“Yes, but they seemed intent on us not getting too close. How long has it been since Guardian Borvaris delivered the egg to her village?”

Eragon drew in a breath as the dragon neared, finally able to realize her sheer size. “Not very.”

The grass flattened as the dragon spread her wings and settled onto the ground, already sending out a low warning growl and baring her head to block her rider from view. She was much larger than either Eragon or Saphira had anticipated and just as fearsome as her sire: eyes wild, teeth bared, and the haggardness from several months of being on the run only added credence to the rumors that she was wildly unpredictable. Morbidity and beauty reigned in equal measure to bear what many who had spotted them throughout Alagaësia had feared returned – a new shadow.

Just as Saphira bristled to assert dominance, the dragon calmed and lowered her head. Still a few yards away, she settled flat on her stomach, head still alert and legs still tensed to rise again at any moment. The form of a young woman who looked close in age to himself appeared and slid off the dragon’s back to walk towards them.

“Will the dragon not come any closer?” Vrael whispered.

Be silent, Saphira warned as the rider came to stand in front of the group.

~***~

You shoved your hands into your pants pockets, playing with a coin you always kept stashed for moments just as these. Unsure what to do or how to address anyone, you subtly bowed your head at the famed Eragon Shadeslayer. “Shur’tugal.”

He gave you a slow, cautious smile and returned the gesture, placing a hand over his heart. “Welcome. I’m only sorry it took you this much time and strife to get here. We sent some of our trackers and students after you, but to no avail.”

“We’ve become…well versed at evading most people.”

“A truth I’m very sorry for.” He craned his head to look at your dragon, who hadn’t moved from her spot and was taking in the surrounding scenery. “Greetings, friend. Would you allow us to come closer?”

Your dragon gave a low warning growl again, but you could feel her fear and need for reassurance through your bond.

“I think she’d be more comfortable with one at a time,” you advised.

Eragon nodded, again looking to your dragon. You could feel her surprise through your link. No one had talked to her like she was her own sentient being beside you in…well, ever. “May I approach?”

The dragon lowered her head in a slow nod and you watched Eragon descend the hill to meet her. He was dressed well, like the elven scouts you’d scared off at their lands’ border. He wore mostly blue and grey tones to match his own dragon, with an impressive sword hanging off his hip and an expensive looking cloak over his shoulders. It was a much darker blue than his shirt, but both had matching twisting silver designs bordering its edges. You self-consciously looked down at your own beat up clothing and were sure your skin and hair didn’t look any better. Your dragon even could do with a bath.

An elf who had been hovering behind Eragon remained aloof as he eyed you with an air of disdain, occasionally throwing nervous glances at your dragon. You turned to see Eragon reaching out a hand towards her nose only for her to flinch back in surprise. He said something you couldn’t hear, keeping his voice soft and warm, before she slowly sniffed him and let him touch.

You sighed, inspecting the lush grass covering the hill. It had been so long since either of you could trust anyone – and for your dragon, she’d only had you since she hatched. What if her sense of trust was permanently damaged? What if yours was?

I am sorry, little one, an unfamiliar voice rang through your mind.

You glanced up at the blue dragon in front of you. Although much older and wiser, she was smaller than your own fledging dragon. You sensed comfort and warmth from her and sank into the feeling, unsure of the last time you’d felt it. You knew she didn’t need to enter your mind to feel the grief and exhaustion rolling off the pair of you in waves.

I am Saphira, Eragon’s dragon, she continued, and I will be teaching your own dragon – sometimes alongside you, sometimes separately.

“What are your and your dragon’s names?” the elf finally interrupted.

You sensed annoyance flowing through your brief connection with Saphira. “I am Y/N, and my dragon is Gormlaith.”

“Can she really be that young to need teaching? She looks to be a few years from her size, at least.”

You shook your head. “No, she’s only six months old.”

The elf turned wide eyes to you. “Six months?! She’s huge!”

Feeling your own annoyance grow, you crossed your arms. “I’m sorry, and you are?”

The elf seemed offended and puffed out his chest. “Ambassador Vrael of the elves of Du Weldenvarden, and trusted servant to Arya Dröttning.”

You glanced mischievously at Saphira before returning to the elf with a shrug and slight shake of your head. “Never heard of you.”

Vrael spluttered as Saphira grumbled something that could’ve been mistaken for a laugh. A light hand on your shoulder distracted you and you turned to see Eragon. “Saphira here will take Gormlaith for a quick flight. It seems neither of you has had a decent meal in ages, so my dragon will show yours the hunting grounds while I show you where you’ll be staying. You can wash up, then join me in my quarters for something to eat and we’ll discuss training and answer your questions. Vrael, you are free to go.”

“But—”

Eragon grabbed your shoulder and turned you away from the elf, giving him a stern and empty smile. “Enjoy your stay here, Ambassador.”

The wind danced around you as both Saphira and Gormlaith took off. You followed Eragon down the hill to the nearby woods, glancing back to see your own dragon giving Saphira a wide berth, but following nonetheless.

It will be all right, you said. We’re where we were always meant to be. They’ll protect us here.

For how long? Gormlaith replied, worry coloring her tone. Before or after the rumors spread of who sired my egg?

You hesitated as you followed your new teacher to a stone path. The light cutting through the trees suddenly felt more ominous than comforting. I’ll always have your back, no matter what happens. I won’t let them torment you.

A powerful wave of love and gratitude flowed through your mind. And I you, my friend.

“I again apologize that we couldn’t locate and bring you two to safety sooner,” Eragon said as the sun disappeared behind some clouds. You couldn’t help feeling grateful, as if you were out from under a spotlight.

You habitually stayed a few steps behind him to protect your back. Although there were likely no plans for backstabbing in these woods, it was a hard habit to break and one could never be too careful. “It wasn’t your fault. We had to constantly be on the move to avoid capture – or torture, maiming, killing, whatever they had in mind.”

Eragon slowed to match your pace, his dark eyes concerned. “The reports I received were mixed at best. Would you mind telling me exactly what happened while we walk?”

You swallowed hard, concentrating on the breeze, birdsong, and smell of incoming rain. You’re here not there, you repeated to yourself. Here not there. As she flew further away, you could feel the bond between you and Gormlaith weaken and tried your best to cling to it. You could feel her doing the same and sent a wave of comfort, forcing a deep inhale.

“This is the furthest you’ve been from your dragon, isn’t it?” Eragon broke the silence.

You nodded, letting out a breath that was much more shuddery than intended.

Eragon stopped and gently took hold of your shoulders, turning you to face him. “I promise you, you’re both safe here. I won’t let any harm come to you nor let rumors spread into a forest fire.”

You were sure your fear was evident all over your face. “But…her sire is—”

“I know.” He let his arms drop down to his sides, gripping the pommel of his sword. His eyes turned distant and his knuckles went white against the hilt. “Shruikan.”

As if the air itself was reliving the terror of the king’s dragon, the sky grew dark and the wind chilled. You closed your eyes, shoving your hands deeper into your pockets and hunching your shoulders as if to protect your neck. Just as suddenly as it appeared, the darkness and cold scattered away. You opened your eyes to see your mentor staring at you with a heavy gaze.

“But Gormlaith is not her father. She’s committed no crimes, and neither have you. I can tell she trusts and loves you wholly – which, of course, all Riders and dragons have these bonds, but it feels…different with you two. As if you’re already on solid ground like an experienced Rider and dragon.”

You frowned. “Are you saying you and Saphira didn’t get along at one point?”

Eragon chuckled, gesturing for you to follow him down the path once more. “We’ve had our arguments and squabbles. We’ve always had and will always have a steadfast love, as well as trust and respect for each other. But I think it’s a bit normal for younger Riders and dragons to take some time finding their footing with each other, so to speak. It’s a strange shift, suddenly having another being privy to your inner thoughts and feelings all the time. As it is to be privy to all their inner thoughts and feelings as well.”

You laughed. “Tell me about it. But for so long, all we’ve had is each other. I didn’t exactly have many close friends or family left before everything happened, and then after Gormlaith hatched, neither of us were sure who to trust. People in strange masks were constantly trying to kidnap her, kill me, and we were just trying to make it here. Of course, I could only hide her in a jacket or vest or cloak for so long…”

You emerged into a long, narrow clearing that followed the path and lost your train of thought at the buildings before you. A large, stone building stood directly in front, its massive double doors open to the forest. Even from your distance, you could see the detail in the stonework as well as the massive gargoyle of a dragon, wings spread in flight, right above the ornate wooden doors. Flanking both sides to create a loose semi-circle were neighboring buildings that seemed somehow woven into the trees themselves, all with large covered balconies that smaller dragons flew in and out of. A few larger dragons – but none as large as Gormlaith, or even Saphira – raised their heads to get a good look at you from their high perches as their young riders played some games in the grass with all sorts of different obstacle courses, balls, bats, and nets. You nearly teared up seeing the utopia Eragon had created. You were finally among your own people – well, if the rumor mill wasn’t already too vicious.

You hadn’t even realized you stopped until Eragon put a gentle hand on your shoulder. “These are the Riders’ quarters. All of these balconies are made to house dragons.” He pointed to your left. “There are a few rows that are hidden by trees and other buildings, but normally we’ll have younger riders bunk together and have several hatchlings share a balcony. Obviously, once dragons become bigger, they’ll need a balcony with fewer roommates or all to themselves. Which is over on this side,” he turned to gesture to your right. “Gormlaith is obviously formidable size, so she’ll get her own balcony just on the end there, in this first row. Which means you will also receive your own private quarters. They’re modest size, but quite comfortable, if I do say so myself. This stone building in the middle is a common area for all the riders and is where we serve meals and have more general offices for myself and the other teachers here.”

No matter how long you looked at everything, it felt impossible to take in every detail. “It’s incredible what you’ve built here.”

He smiled. “Thank you. I hope you’ll find your stay comfortable.”

You turned your attention to him. “Forgive me, but…how exactly does this whole…system work?”

“Well, I can tell you more later, but,” he gestured for you to follow him towards the impressive tree on the end – your quarters – as he continued, “most students come to us as children with their fresh hatchlings and go through training as they grow. Once both they and their dragons are adults, they usually either stay here to help run the academy or go off toward Alagaësia to serve their respective leaders. But our academy is young enough that – ”

You both jumped as a ball narrowly avoided your head, bouncing to a halt at your feet.

“Careful now, Bronvir,” Eragon chuckled. “We don’t want to concuss your new classmate.”

You picked up the ball as Bronvir – a human child who couldn’t have been more than ten – stared at you with wide eyes. You gave him a small smile before handing his ball back to him.

“Do you ride the big, black dragon that just flew over?” he asked. A few of his peers who had been playing with him stopped to stare as well.

You took in a sharp inhale, prepared for the worst. “Yes.”

Bronvir smiled, revealing a missing front tooth. “Can I ride?”

You sighed in relief, laughing quietly as Eragon lightly scolded him. “Of course you can ride – with her permission, of course.”

A chorus of “oh, me too! – can I ride second? – no I want to be second! – how many can they carry at once? – can we go on a group ride? – can they breathe fire?” erupted as the children began to crowd closer into you.

“Now, now, let’s calm down,” Eragon yelled over the cacophony. “They’ve only just arrived, let’s all give them some space to rest from their travels.”

The children groaned synonymously before going back to their game, excitedly whispering about riding a full-size dragon and how they couldn’t wait until their own dragons were that big. Eragon continued leading you towards the large tree at the end of the row, which you could now see had an archway leading to a wide spiral staircase. “My apologies. They can be a bit excitable.”

“I’ll take that over what I was expecting.”

He gave you a sympathetic smile. “As I was saying, our academy is young enough that we don’t have too many who have already graduated to Shur’tugal status. Three of our graduates have stayed here to help care for the young, while four others have taken their services elsewhere. Although not all are riders – we train budding sorcerers in the art of magic and herbalism as well. We’ve only been a functional school for four years now and those who have graduated came here when they were much older than most students – much like you.”

“I got the impression when one of your guardians originally brought the eggs to my village that they mostly aim for children and teenagers.”

“Yes, but it’s ultimately up to the dragon. But older students are a bit more rare.”

The conversation stilled as you passed under the archway. The stairs seemed to branch out from the inside of the hollow trunk, but were still intricately detailed. You’d heard stories about how the elves did this with their own architecture as a way to preserve nature, and with how many elves were here as teachers and helpers, you couldn’t say you were surprised. By contrast, the common building looked more influenced by the dwarves and you’d recognized many of the games on the lawn as popular among human children. It was more soothing than you’d anticipated to see all the races who had isolated themselves during the war come together again.

You followed your new mentor up the stairs and past several landings that led to their own floors – all within and part of the tree itself. Most had archways with full views into the rooms, but at the top stood a closed wooden door with a dragon knocker. Another archway stood behind you, leading out of the tree and onto a series of bridges connecting the top floors of all the other trees that held riders’ quarters and balconies.

Eragon pulled a small black key out of his pocket, the handle carved into a dragon’s wing. “This is the key to your room, color-coded to your dragon. All the doors have wards placed on them so that they cannot be unlocked with magic by other students. However, if I or the other teachers suspect there’s something in there that’s a danger to either you or others, we reserve the right to lift the ward and let ourselves in.”

You nodded as he turned to unlock the door and stepped in after him. The room was a bit small, but felt like luxury compared to your travels and growing up in your small village. The furnishings were modest, but good quality, with a divider in the corner painted with an ornate tree that you assumed hid the bed, and a door on the opposite side leading to a small washroom. Once passed the bed, the floor dipped down into a small sitting area that led out to what would be Gormlaith’s balcony. The ceiling was high and domed with plenty of room for your dragon to move around comfortably. The balcony dipped down to create a reverse dome with part of it covered by what you assumed was a heavily padded dragon bed. The whole space had many warm tones, with plenty of hardwood accompanied by blue and green cushions, blankets, some small paintings on the wall, hanging shelves, and an overall demeanor that already felt safe and like home. You stood as Eragon moved towards the balcony to breathe it all in.

“Now, there are a few things to show you.” Eragon walked along the side of Gormlaith’s bed to the edge of the balcony. “These have doors that wrap around to provide you with privacy and protect from the weather. If you don’t already know the spell for this, there is a pulley system on the wall here that closes them.” He opened a small panel in the wall and pulled on a chord. Circular doors began to slide shut around the balcony until they sealed with a great boom, leaving the room dimly, but cozily lit from the lantern light on the walls. “They seal here in the middle, so you shouldn’t have to worry about any leaks.” He pulled on a different chord and the doors slowly opened again. “There are some minor wards over the balconies to keep out less intense weather. But if you just want privacy or if there’s a particularly bad storm, I’d advise keeping them closed. And now, over here – ”

Eragon returned to walk past you towards the washroom as you took a quick peek at the bed. It looked so comfortable, you almost wanted to ignore him to just flop straight on it. It was a double bed with a frame that looked again like it was somehow flowing out of the tree with a dark green duvet, two white feather pillows, and a small chest for belongings at its footboard. You forced yourself to Eragon’s side, but couldn’t help hoping he’d leave soon so you could test it for yourself.

He stood in the doorway to your washroom, where you noticed the accompanying tub was already full of steaming, soapy water. “This is your washroom and a bath is all ready for you. I assumed you didn’t have many belongings, so I’ve taken the liberty of decorating your room a bit for you. You have a few changes of clothes in the trunk at the foot of your bed, and also hanging here.” He gestured to a simple, but comfortable set of clothes hanging on the wall with a small insignia at the breast that looked like the mark on your palm. “The gedwëy ignasia symbol here marks you as a student. Once you get settled in, if you need more clothes, we can measure you and get you some, as well as test you and Gormlaith to see exactly where your abilities fall.”

You nodded and sighed, slightly overwhelmed.

He gave you a small smile. “I know it’s a lot to take in. Dinner won’t be for a few hours, so take the time you need to wash up, rest, and get used to your new surroundings. My office is in that stone building we saw earlier on the top floor. You can climb the stairs, then turn around and head into the door directly before you. Or there is also a balcony attached, if you’d prefer to land with Gormlaith. She and Saphira are almost done hunting and bathing in the lake and will return shortly.” He gestured to the small table between couches in your sitting area. “I’ve had a bowl of cheese, fruit, and bread prepared for you to tide you over until dinner. And with that, I’ll leave you to rest. Welcome again.” He gave you a small bow and dropped your room key into your palm before heading for the door.

“Wait. What do I call you?”

“I and the other teachers are referred to as ‘ebrithil’ here. It means ‘master’ in the Ancient Language, which we will teach you. Enjoy your quarters.” He gave you one last parting smile before closing the door behind himself.

You stood for a minute, soaking in the silence and sounds of the forest floating through the open balcony before moving to lock the door. Just as you did, Gormlaith’s connection suddenly became clearer in your mind, strengthening until you heard the telltale beat of wings. Your friend swooped onto the balcony, her claws gripping the railing that somehow seemed to hold her weight, before taking in the area. You felt her elation at seeing her very own bed and immediately settled into it with happy chirps and hums. You’d gotten so used to seeing her road-haggard look, the shine and sleekness from her bath amazed you. She truly was an illustrious dragon to behold.

You went to inspect the balcony yourself, placing a loving hand on Gormlaith’s nose as you passed. The view from your balcony was much more secluded than you anticipated and was sheltered by the canopy of the impossibly large trees that surrounded you and made up the rest of the riders’ quarters. You could faintly see and hear what went on in the yard and in others’ open balconies when the breeze parted the branches just right or the younger children screamed in delight at their game. You glanced up at the balcony doors and reached toward them, pulling from the magic you had even before Gormlaith hatched. You had a mentor in your village for a while, but she was strange and didn’t really use the Ancient Language much like you’d heard most riders and sorcerers do. But that was how she taught you and how you practiced. You used your hand to slowly pull the door partially closed to allow Gormlaith some privacy before joining her.

Comfortable? you asked.

Mmm, very. The bath helped. She leaned over to gently nuzzle your shoulder and you wrapped your arms around her nose to give her a big squeeze. As had become your tradition, Gormlaith gently lifted you several inches off the ground before setting you back down. You should take your own bath, friend.

Are you saying I stink?

Yes.

You laughed as she let out a stuttered exhale through her nose that could’ve been a laugh. All right, I’m going, I’m going. I’m assuming Eragon and Saphira would both rather us tell them our story when we smell nice.

Stay tuned for part II!

Taglist (please let me know if you'd like to be added!): @the-ethereal-god

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where-dreamers-go · 1 year ago

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Can I ask for the super skilled fighter Reader from the last request to invite Eragon for a sparing match after they defeated everyone? Almost like an end-boss situation XD.

Ooo if you need song inspiration you could go with super massive black hole by muse!

“Sparring Fool” Eragon x Reader

(A/N: Hi! The way I practically shrieked while reading Super Massive Black Hole was hilarious. That song takes me back…closer to when I was reading Brisingr, maybe earlier. So thank you. Also…I did not specify this being Modern! Reader. Plus at this point, I don’t know if this is an Eragon insert reader or an Eragon Reaction. Warnings: Me writing to that song! Lol Mentions of fighting. Ancient Language for Dragon Rider and friend used. Word Count: 972 words)

Eragon had learned much in his life, especially after leaving home. What he had witnessed between you and the warriors on Mount Arngor gave him a fast course in learning your opponent while fighting. Sure, he had only visuals to rely on, but he was still greatly impressed.

They bested everyone they sparred with. Eragon watched as you sipped from a cup of water. Who trained them?

Steady in an oncoming stream of thoughts and images of your movements, the leader of the mountain forgotten where his gaze landed. Deep in analysis and questions kept even his sight preoccupied for the better part of your rest period.

“Thinking of a puzzle?” You asked with a small smirk.

Eragon composed himself. “In a way, yes.”

Humming in acknowledgement, you nodded.

“You’ve very skilled in your fighting.”

“I do my best.”

“Your best is impressive,” he added.

“Thank you, but there are others more skilled than I.”

He smiled.

Your attitude only made Eragon more interested, curious.

“Would you like to spar with me?” You asked, stretching.

Straightening his back, he paused for only a moment. Long enough for Saphira to encourage the activity.

“I would.”

Standing up, you inquired, “Weapons or no weapons, Shur’tugal? Your choice.”

An easy decision for the Dragon Rider. One he was most confident in succeeding.

“Sword.”

Your smile mirrored his own and his stomach fluttered for a second.

Let us see how this turns out. He thought as he felt Saphira’s amusement.

You picked up two swords, ones already magically altered to prevent severe damage to oneself and the swords themselves.

Have fun, little one.

Eragon met you in the middle of a clear area. He took the weapon you offered graciously before taking a few paces backwards. A preferred distance for the start of the spar.

Taking a ready stance gave Eragon a sense of calm confidence.

There was no danger.

There were no enemies.

It was another practice in skill.

You made the first move.

If only Eragon hadn’t let his confidence in a sword-fight and his observation of your skills lead him into a false sense of victory. For when his confidence hit a peak, you used it against him.

Retreating to the left, the Dragon Rider let out a soft groan.

That kick hurt, Eragon thought in some attempt to warn himself of any more light damage. They are good. He repositioned the sword.

Years ago he was changed by the dragons. He had greater speed and senses. He knew this.

Yet Eragon very well could had been taking his first few lessons of fighting all over again.

He had been anticipating specific moves from you. All that time spent watching and you had the advantage.

“Are you watching, Shur’tugal?” Your voice snickered towards the end of your question.

Warmth coated his skin to which he hoped was unnoticeable.

They are playing with you.

I know, Eragon replied to Saphira.

It came time to change tactics. To be as unpredictable as possible or almost unlike himself became his strategy.

Eragon charged forward. If he could no longer land a hit then he desperately needed to disarm you. Anything before you bested him completely.

How would it look if you won against everyone and him?

If he set aside his pride, it would look amazing. A skilled warrior who could adapt to their opponent and win was a great addition to have amongst others.

For the most part, you twisted away from Eragon’s swing. Keeping some momentum allowed him to hit your leg. Enough to cause you to stumble.

The surprise in your eyes added to his confidence of his altered strategy. He would need to be careful.

“Are you watching, fricai?” Asked Eragon with a smirk. His bent his knees and looked for another opportunity.

Rolling back your shoulders, you answered, “Closer than you think.”

Swings, dodges, hits, and words were exchanged for a while longer. Limbs aching and sweat noticeable. You both continued.

Close, he thought as he used his blade to push yours further away.

You were left open.

He swung down, however before impact you kneed his side. A little too close to his rear.

Sending you a disapproving frown lasted a second.

Swords locked between the pair of you.

Eragon had never been that close to you before.

“Pouting again, Shur’tugal?” You panted.

“No. Tired, fricai?”

“Not yet.”

Muscles flexing, Eragon added weight to the point of contact. He watched the two blades lean towards you. There was no need for enhanced hearing for him to know you were trying to even out your breathing.

If he could tire you, perhaps he could win the sparring match. There were no tricks to truly fend off exhaustion.

“Do you always…stare at someone’s lips when fighting?” You huffed.

Eragon’s eyebrows rose.

What? I don’t—

A flicker of change, a thought, in your eyes and you kicked one of his legs out from under him. With his weight focused foward, the Dragon Rider knew his mistake.

Pivoting to his side, you gave a shove onto his back.

Down Eragon went. Catching himself on one knee saved some of his dignity.

Not much could be said about his pride as a while as he felt the cold blade of the sword across the back of his neck. Nor did the Dragon Rider know what to say while your fingers pressed down on one of his shoulder blades.

Eragon Shadeslayer had lost.

After aiding him in standing and Eragon complimenting you, tension died away.

“Best two out of three?” You smiled playfully.

Laughing, Eragon replied, “Perhaps another time.”

“I think I owe you a drink.”

“It would be very appreciated.” He smiled and added. “Then perhaps you could tell me how you beat me?”

It was your turn to laugh, “Perhaps, Shur’tugal, perhaps.”

~~~

(If you love my writings and want to support me, I have a Ko-Fi where you can buy me a coffee. I would be eternally grateful.

Best wishes and happy reading.)

~~~~~

DreamerDragon Tags:

Inheritance Cycle Tags: @shewhobreathesfire @

**Let me know if you would like to be tagged in insert readers, either through replies, ask, or message.**

#eragon #eragon x reader #eragon shadeslayer #eragon reaction #where dreamers go #Erica answers #saphira #the inheritance cycle #the world of eragon #when you make it up as you go and finally decide how it should end... woo!

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romangoldendream · 1 year ago

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true love

#secret love #eragon x arya #eragon #eldest #sienna guillory #ed speleers #saphira

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modern-inheritance · 10 months ago

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I know this is considered somewhat romantic considering Royai, but I wanna say this:

This is sorta Arya's general idea of how command over her works in the Varden.

She exercises her best judgement and, if there's time, takes in advice and viewpoints of the people she respects and typically would defer to, observes and analyises the current situation and possible future repercussions, looks at previous experiences and/or previous events of similar situations, reevaluates her position with new information, and makes her call. It's a long list but typically takes a short time, mental speed and decision making being increased in elves due to, at least I've been led to believe, their mental speed and thought process having to be able to keep up with their physical speed or else things would be Very Bad (I would love to dive deeper into this but right now I remember mirror neurons and wanna look into that). It's a small part of why Arya is usually quiet in public and takes a moment or two before speaking when actually doing official duties/acting as an actual ambassador/liaison instead of just a specialty soldier on loan.

Order would/likely would result in harm for various parties besides herself (and even then she only lets it go so far concerning her wellbeing, she's still somehow never really all that good with her own healing magic)? 'With all due respect, no sir/ma'am. I cannot follow that order. Do what you wish but I'm pretty sure we all know you cannot physically stop me, nor can you compel me to do this physically or through threats. I suggest we find another solution/might I suggest this course of action?'

Everything checks out? 'On it.'

#modern inheritance lore #mic x fma #fma brotherhood #modern inheritance #eragon #the world of eragon #the inheritance cycle #the cyclists #arya drottningu #arya #I know I crack a lot of jokes but when Arya is on official duties she can snap right into her canon persona #it scares the shit outta eragon and highly amuses saphira after saphira realizes it's something arya takes seriously and not an act

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modern-inheritance · 1 year ago

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Glenwing with Saphira, during a lazy night at the Varden camp post-relationship establishment between his two favorite dumbasses, whispering loudly while crouched behind Eragon and Arya. Saphira is providing mood music with crooning.

The two aforementioned dumbasses can't even look at each other with their stupid wingman/wing-dragon(?) providing such scintillating commentary. Arya's got a hand over her eyes, other arm crossed, absolutely red in the face, and Eragon is staring very hard at the ground with his ears burning.

"How the hell do–GLEN, THAT'S NOT REMOTELY APPROPRIATE."

'–and yet the elf was still not passionately making out with the young man beside her, despite the descriptive recounting of acts one should try in private chambers.'

"SAPHIRA!"

"OW! Arya knock it off! I'm just saying, you two should get a room! You both look so flushed!"

'Indeed, they should, before the fire roars too brightly. Preferably one with soundproofing. Unlike the last one.'

Slow burn but it's written by an impatient person

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modern-inheritance · 6 months ago

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“You’ve told me and Saphira about Glenwing a few times, but you never mention Fäolin. Were you two not close?”

“…We were. We grew up together.”

‘Careful, Little One.’

“Sorry if that’s overstepping.”

“It’s fine.”

“…So, if you grew up together–”

‘You are rapidly approaching Carrion Tent levels of stupid.’

“How do you talk about the sun when it’s gone out, Eragon?”

“…I’m sorry, I don’t–”

“Exactly.”

#eragon #inheritance cycle #the cyclists #modern inheritance #the inheritance cycle #ket's modern inheritance cycle #the world of eragon #Saphira #Eragon vanquisher of snails #eragon shadeslayer #arya #arya drottningu #faolin #arya x faolin #fäolin #modern inheritance stories

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where-dreamers-go · 1 year ago

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"Eragonson" Eragon x Fem!Reader

(A/N: Requested by Anon. Thank you for your cute request of Eragon and Reader having a newborn son. I really hope you like it. Warnings: Minor angst. Fluff. Word Count: 1,143 words)

New life and changes were important. Each moment could lead to a new experience and expanding knowledge.

The tiny new being in Eragon’s life brought in more love.

Time had seemingly gone by faster. Almost dreamlike for the Dragon Rider.

It had almost been a full week since a son was born. Yours and Eragon’s little joy in a world with dragons and magic. A new human still getting used to the sounds of the world around him; among other senses.

For the time being, he hadn’t been carried out of the living area much. He was much too young.

That was fine by Eragon. It was easier to keep an eye on him and you. Yet the Rider was still nervous holding his infant son, especially if he had to walk across the room. A bundle of gurgles so precious and delicate in his arms. He felt the weight of responsibility each day.

What always shook Eragon from his thoughts?

A dirty diaper. Oh, what a blessing and a curse those cloths were for a multitude of reasons.

Eragon Shadeslayer was almost always on diaper duty. It was the least he could do. It didn’t take nearly as long to clean and change the infant as it used to. Practice and learning came hand in hand. He just learned how to hold his breath longer, much to the amusement to both you and Saphira.

It was an action needed and in the end he did not mind; not when his son gave a small smile. He sweared that his heart grew with each one.

“You’re all smelly,” Eragon would tell the smiling infant. “Do you know your little bottom smells? You might need a bath.”

Eragon hoped he was doing all right. He hoped you both were good enough parents. There weren’t any examples nearby to study. But you had each other. He had you.

You, his brave, intelligent, strong, and beautiful partner were recovering. No tasks for you. No straining yourself. There was only taking care of your own needs, your healthy baby boy, and making sure Eragon had encouragement. He and Saphira could handle the rest, including caring for you when needed.

“I’m so proud of you,” said Eragon, half in a daze as he watched you cuddle your infant to your chest.

“You keep saying that.”

“Because it’s true. You’re so strong.” His brown eyes looked to the baby. “He’s strong because of you.”

Your recovery would take time as would the baby’s growth to support his own head. As was life.

With all of the happiness came new fear.

The Dragon Rider and his dragon had become even more protective than prior to the birth of your son. An Eragonson. You were in no condition to fight off any attack if one had managed to get close enough.

What about a ward against sickness? Eragon inquired to Saphira.

There are many in multiple forms. Do you wish to stop them all? It would use too much energy.

Eragon scratched at his hand absentmindedly. You’re right. What about detection? Being able to detect a sickness off of clothing could be helpful. He suggested to which Saphira mulled it over.

It may very well be useful for others as well.

We can check more of what we bring in. He added, satisfied with the idea. Mentally, he grouped it with the few that could be used within reason.

Ignoring the parchment on his desk, Eragon sat back in his chair.

He could have trouble with the stairs when he starts walking, Eragon thought. Would adding—

“Eragon,” you called softly, interrupting them.

You just knew the pair were talking, it was a skill you picked up.

“Yes?” He turned in the seat.

“Can you hold him, please?” You asked and used your chin to gesture to the infant grabbing at your clothes. “I need to go.”

“Oh.”

Moving swiftly, Eragon made his way to the bed near Saphira’s nest. He sat down slowly as to not jostle you and the baby.

Gently passing your son to Eragon, you said, “I’ll be right back. Give your father some love.”

The infant had a strong grasp of your clothes that impressed the Rider as he delicately freed you to leave. A small complaint left the baby.

“It’s me,” Eragon cooed. “I’ve been way over there working.” He cradled his son to his chest.

“Ah.”

“I know. It’s not much fun.” He chuckled to himself.

Holding his son, Eragon recognized the paternal instincts within him. Something still so new and powerful.

With a light touch, he swept the fine hair on the baby’s head to the side.

His son reacted by grabbing for the Rider’s index finger, to which was allowed. All tiny fingers grasping around one of Eragon’s.

The sight took hold of his very being.

This is real, Eragon thought to himself. He’s here.

After many months of waiting and preparing, Eragon was a father. A parent growing a family with you.

My family.

Beside him, Saphira craned her neck to level a large gleaming eye to see the infant.

One day you shall be chasing him through these halls, Saphira spoke warmly in Eragon’s mind.

I want to show him the crops we harvest. He might want to play in them. He smiled at the image.

“Uhhoo.”

“Would you play in the mud after the summer rains?” Eragon asked playfully to the attentive baby who was pointing at Saphira.

I would certainly tear apart a forest for the tiny one.

Let’s hope it never comes to that. Eragon thought back to when he had hurt his hand so many years ago and she had reacted similarly, but much fiercer in the moment.

How time went by in a blink of an eye.

At sounds of soft padding on the floor, Eragon glanced up to see you smiling.

“What?”

“It makes me so very happy to see my family.” You begun walking over. “You’re very handsome between a gorgeous dragon and the cutest baby, you know.”

A long chuckle vibrated through him.

“I was wondering where your laugh went,” you sat down on the bed.

“What do you mean?”

They know, little one.

“Some of the wards you set up before you leave the room are very powerful, Eragon. Some tickle the air.”

“Do they bother you?”

“No.” You kissed his shoulder. “But if you worry so much, you’ll miss out on what’s right in front of you. Who is right in front of you and needing you to be a father.”

Sighing, he looked to his son who was wiggling at the sound of your voice.

Their words are wise. Saphira blinked as she too watched the infant.

I know.

“You’re right.”

“I know.” You smirked and lightly poked your baby’s tummy.

Curious hands reached for you. Just like his father.

~~~

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