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cy-cyborg · 1 year ago

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Dealing with Healing and Disability in fantasy: Writing Disability

[ID: An image of the main character from Eragon, a white teenage boy with blond hair in silver armour as he sits, with his hand outstretched. On his hand is a glowing blue mark. He is visibly straining as he attempts to heal a large creature in front of him. /End ID]

I'm a massive fan of the fantasy genre, which is why it's so incredibly frustrating when I see so much resistance to adding disability representation to fantasy works. People's go-to reason for leaving us out is usually something to the effect of "But my setting has magic so disability wouldn't exist, it can just be healed!" so let's talk about magic, specifically healing magic, in these settings, and how you can use it without erasing disability from your story.

Ok, let's start with why you would even want to avoid erasing disability from a setting in the first place. I talked about this in a lot more detail in my post on The Miracle Cure. this line of thinking is another version of this trope, but applied to a whole setting (or at least, to the majority of people in the setting) instead of an individual, so it's going to run into the same issues I discussed there. To summarise the points that are relevant to this particular version of the trope though:

Not every disabled person wants or needs a cure - many of us see our disability as a part of our identity. Do difficulties come with being disabled? absolutely! It's literally part of the definition, but for some people in the disabled community, if you took our disabilities away, we would be entirely different people. While it is far from universal, there is a significant number of us who, if given a magical cure with no strings attached, would not take it. Saying no one in your setting would be disabled because these healing spells exists ignores this part of the community.

It messes with the stakes of your story - Just like how resurrecting characters or showing that this is something that is indeed possible in the setting can leave your audience feeling cheated or like they don't have to worry about a character *actually* ever dying. healing a character's disability, or establishing that disability doesn't exist in your setting because "magic" runs into the same problem. It will leave your readers or viewers feeling like they don't have to worry about your characters getting seriously hurt because it will only be temporary, which means your hero's actions carry significantly less risk, which in turn, lowers the stakes and tension if not handled very, very carefully.

It's an over-used trope - quite plainly and simply, this trope shows up a lot in the fantasy genre, to the point where I'd say it's just overused and kind of boring.

So with the "why should you avoid it" covered, let's look at how you can actually handle the topic.

Limited Access and Expensive Costs

One of the most common ways to deal with healing and disability in a fantasy setting, is to make the healing magic available, but inaccessible to most of the population. The most popular way to do that is by making the services of a magical healer capable of curing a disability really expensive to the point that most people just can't afford it. If this is the approach you're going to use, you also typically have to make that type of magic quite rare. To use D&D terms, if every first level sorcerer, bard, cleric and druid can heal a spinal injury, it's going to result in a lot of people who are able to undercut those massive prices and the expense will drop as demand goes down. If that last sentence didn't give you a hint, this is really popular method in stories that are critiquing capitalistic mindsets and ideologies, and is most commonly used by authors from the USA and other countries with a similar medical system, since it mirrors a lot of the difficulties faced by disabled Americans. If done right, this approach can be very effective, but it does need to be thought through more carefully than I think people tend to do. Mainly because a lot of fantasy stories end with the main character becoming rich and/or powerful, and so these prohibitively expensive cure become attainable by the story's end, which a lot of authors and writer's just never address. Of course, another approach is to make the availability of the magic itself the barrier. Maybe there just aren't that many people around who know the magic required for that kind of healing, so even without a prohibitive price tag, it's just not something that's an option for most people. If we're looking at a D&D-type setting, maybe you need to be an exceptionally high level to cast the more powerful healing spell, or maybe the spell requires some rare or lost material component. I'd personally advise people to be careful using this approach, since it often leads to stories centred around finding a miracle cure, which then just falls back into that trope more often than not.

Just outright state that some characters don't want/need it

Another, admittedly more direct approach, is to make it that these "cures" exist and are easily attainable, but to just make it that your character or others they encounter don't want or need it. This approach works best for characters who are born with their disabilities or who already had them for a long time before a cure was made available to them. Even within those groups though, this method works better with some types of characters than others depending on many other traits (personality, cultural beliefs, etc), and isn't really a one-size-fits-all solution, but to be fair, that's kind of the point. Some people will want a cure for their disabilities, others are content with their body's the way they are. There's a few caveats I have with this kind of approach though:

you want to make sure you, as the author, understand why some people in real life don't want a cure, and not just in a "yeah I know these people exist but I don't really get it" kind of way. I'm not saying you have to have a deep, personal understanding or anything, but some degree of understanding is required unless you want to sound like one of those "inspirational" body positivity posts that used to show up on Instagram back in the day.

Be wary when using cultural beliefs as a reasoning. It can work, but when media uses cultural beliefs as a reason for turning down some kind of cure, it's often intending to critique extreme beliefs about medicine, such as the ones seen in some New Age Spirituality groups and particularly intense Christian churches. As a general rule of thumb, it's probably not a good idea to connect these kinds of beliefs to disabled people just being happy in their bodies. Alternatively, you also need to be mindful of the "stuck in time" trope - a trope about indigenous people who are depicted as primitive or, as the name suggests, stuck in an earlier time, for "spurning the ways of the white man" which usually includes medicine or the setting's equivalent magic. I'm not the best person to advise you on how to avoid this specific trope, but my partner (who's Taino) has informed me of how often it shows up in fantasy specifically and we both thought it was worth including a warning at least so creators who are interested in this method know to do some further research.

Give the "cures" long-lasting side effects

Often in the real world, when a "cure" for a disability does exist, it's not a perfect solution and comes with a lot of side effects. For example, if you loose part of your arm in an accident, but you're able to get to a hospital quickly with said severed arm, it can sometimes be reattached, but doing so comes at a cost. Most people I know who had this done had a lot of issues with nerve damage, reduced strength, reduced fine-motor control and often a great deal of pain with no clear source. Two of the people I know who's limbs were saved ended up having them optionally re-amputated only a few years later. Likewise, I know many people who are paraplegics and quadriplegics via spinal injuries, who were able to regain the use of their arms and/or legs. However, the process was not an easy one, and involved years of intense physiotherapy and strength training. For some of them, they need to continue to do this work permanently just to maintain use of the effected limbs, so much so that it impacts their ability to do things like work a full-time job and engage in their hobbies regularly, and even then, none of them will be able bodied again. Even with all that work, they all still experience reduced strength and reduced control of the limbs. depending on the type, place and severity of the injury, some people are able to get back to "almost able bodied" again - such was the case for my childhood best friend's dad, but they often still have to deal with chronic pain from the injury or chronic fatigue.

Even though we are talking about magic in a fantasy setting, we can still look to real-life examples of "cures" to get ideas. Perhaps the magic used has a similar side effect. Yes, your paraplegic character can be "cured" enough to walk again, but the magic maintaining the spell needs a power source to keep it going, so it draws on the person's innate energy within their body, using the very energy the body needs to function and do things like move their limbs. They are cured, but constantly exhausted unless they're very careful, and if the spell is especially strong, the body might struggle to move at all, resulting in something that looks and functions similar to the nerve damage folks with spinal injuries sometimes deal with that causes that muscle weakness and motor control issues. Your amputee might be able to have their leg regrown, but it will always be slightly off. The regrown leg is weaker and causes them to walk with a limp, maybe even requiring them to use a cane or other mobility aid.

Some characters might decide these trade-offs are worth it, and while this cures their initial disability, it leaves them with another. Others might simply decide the initial disability is less trouble than these side effects, and choose to stay as they are.

Consider if these are actually cures

Speaking of looking to the real world for ideas, you might also want to consider whether these cures are doing what the people peddling them are claiming they do. Let's look at the so-called autism cures that spring up every couple of months as an example.

Without getting into the… hotly debated specifics, there are many therapies that are often labelled as "cures" for autism, but in reality, all they are doing is teaching autistic people how to make their autistic traits less noticeable to others. This is called masking, and it's a skill that often comes at great cost to an autistic person's mental health, especially when it's a behaviour that is forced on them. Many of these therapies give the appearance of being a cure, but the disability is still there, as are the needs and difficulties that come with it, they're just hidden away. From an outside perspective though, it often does look like a success, at least in the short-term. Then there are the entirely fake cures with no basis in reality, the things you'll find from your classic snake-oil salesmen. Even in a fantasy setting where real magic exists, these kinds of scams and misleading treatments can still exist. In fact, I think it would make them even more common than they are in the real world, since there's less suspension of disbelief required for people to fall for them. "What do you mean this miracle tonic is a scam? Phil next door can conjure flames in his hand and make the plants grow with a snap of his fingers, why is it so hard to believe this tonic could regrow my missing limb?"

I think the only example of this approach I've seen, at least recently, is from The Owl House. The magic in this world can do incredible things, but it works in very specific and defined ways. Eda's curse (which can be viewed as an allegory for many disabilities and chronic illnesses) is seemingly an exception to this, and as such, nothing is able to cure it. Treat it, yes, but not cure it. Eda's mother doesn't accept this though, and seeks out a cure anyway and ends up falling for a scam who's "treatments" just make things worse.

In your own stories, you can either have these scams just not work, or kind of work, but in ways that are harmful and just not worth it, like worse versions of the examples in the previous point. Alternatively, like Eda, it's entirely reasonable that a character who's been the target of these scams before might just not want to bother anymore. Eda is a really good example of this approach handled in a way that doesn't make her sad and depressed about it either. She's tried her mum's methods, they didn't work, and now she's found her own way of dealing with it that she's happy with. She only gets upset when her boundaries are ignored by Luz and her mother.

Think about how the healing magic is actually working

If you have a magic system that leans more on the "hard magic" side of things, a great way to get around the issue of healing magic erasing disability is to stop and think about how your healing magic actually works.

My favourite way of doing this is to make healing magic work by accelerating the natural processes of your body. Your body will, given enough time (assuming it remains infection-free) close a slash from a sword and mend a broken bone, but it will never regrow it's own limbs. It will never heal damage to it's own spinal cord. It will never undo whatever causes autism or fix it's own irregularities. Not without help. Likewise, healing magic alone won't do any of these things either, it's just accelerating the existing process and usually, by extension making it safer, since a wound staying open for an hour before you get to a healer is much less likely to get infected than one that slowly and naturally heals over a few weeks. In one of my own works, I take this even further by making it that the healing magic is only accelerating cell growth and repair, but the healer has to direct it. In order to actually heal, the healer needs to know the anatomy of what they're fixing to the finest detail. A spell can reconnect a torn muscle to a bone, but if you don't understand the structures that allow that to happen in the first place, you're likely going to make things worse. For this reason, you won't really see people using this kind of magic to, say, regrow limbs, even though it technically is possible. A limb is a complicated thing. The healer needs to be able to perfectly envision all the bones, the cartilage, the tendons and ligaments, the muscles (including the little ones, like those found in your skin that make your hair stand on end and give you goose bumps), the fat and skin tissues, all the nerves, all the blood vessels, all the structures within the bone that create your blood. Everything, and they need to know how it all connects, how it is supposed to move and be able to keep that clearly in their mind simultaneously while casting. Their mental image also has to match with the patient's internal "map" of the body and the lost limb, or they'll continue to experience phantom limb sensation even if the healing is successful. It's technically possible, but the chances they'll mess something up is too high, and so it's just not worth the risk to most people, including my main character.

Put Restrictions on the magic

This is mostly just the same advice as above, but for softer magic systems. put limits and restrictions on your healing magic. These can be innate (so things the magic itself is just incapable of doing) or external (things like laws that put limitations on certain types of magic and spells).

An example of internal restriction can be seen in how some people interpret D&D's higher level healing spells like regenerate (a 7th level spell-something most characters won't have access to for quite some time). The rules as written specify that disabilities like lost limbs can be healed using this spell, but some players take this to mean that if a character was born with the disability in question, say, born without a limb, regenerate would only heal them back to their body's natural state, which for them, is still disabled.

An external restriction would be that your setting has outlawed healing magic, perhaps because healing magic carries a lot of risks for some reason, eithe to the caster or the person being healed, or maybe because the healing magic here works by selectively reviving and altering the function of cells, which makes it a form of necromancy, just on a smaller scale. Of course, you can also use the tried and true, "all magic is outlawed" approach too. In either case, it's something that will prevent some people from being able to access it, despite it being technically possible. Other external restrictions could look like not being illegal, per say, but culturally frowned upon or taboo where your character is from.

But what if I don't want to do any of this?

Well you don't have to. These are just suggestions to get you thinking about how to make a world where healing magic and disability exist, but they aren't the only ways. Just the ones I thought of.

Of course, if you'd still rather make a setting where all disability is cured because magic and you just don't want to think about it any deeper, I can't stop you. I do however, want to ask you to at least consider where you are going to draw the line. Disability, in essence, is what happens when the body stops (or never started) functioning "normally". Sometimes that happens because of an injury, sometimes it's just bad luck, but the boundary between disabled and not disabled is not as solid as I think a lot of people expect it to be, and we as a society have a lot of weird ideas about what is and isn't a disability that just, quite plainly and simply, aren't consistent. You have to remember, a magic system won't pick and choose the way we humans do, it will apply universally, regardless of our societal hang-ups about disability.

What do I mean about this?

Well, consider for a moment, what causes aging? it's the result of our body not being able to repair itself as effectively as it used to. It's the body not being able to perform that function "normally". So in a setting where all disability is cured, there would be no aging. No elderly people. No death from old age. If you erase disability, you also erase natural processes like aging. magic won't pick and choose like that, not if you want it to be consistent.

Ok, ok, maybe that's too much of a stretch, so instead, let's look at our stereotypical buff hero covered in scars because he's a badass warrior. but in a world where you can heal anything, why would anything scar? Even if it did, could another healing spell not correct that too? Scars are part of the body's natural healing process, but if no natural healing occurred, why would a scar form? Scars are also considered disabling in and of themselves too, especially large ones, since they aren't as flexible or durable as normal skin and can even restrict growth and movement.

Even common things like needing glasses are, using this definition of disability at least, a disability. glasses are a socially accepted disability aid used to correct your eyes when they do not function "normally".

Now to be fair, in reality, there are several definitions of disability, most of which include something about the impact of society. For example, in Australia (according to the Disability Royal Commission), we define disability as "An evolving concept that results from the interaction between a person with impairment(s) and attitudinal and environmental barriers that hinder their full and effective participation in society on an equal basis with others." - or in laymen's terms, the interaction between a person's impairment and societal barriers like people not making things accessible or holding misinformed beliefs about your impairment (e.g. people in wheelchairs are weaker than people who walk). Under a definition like this, things like scars and needing glasses aren't necessarily disabilities (most of the time) but that's because of how our modern society sees them. The problem with using a definition like this though to guide what your magic system will get rid of, is that something like a magic system won't differentiate between an "impairment" that has social impacts that and one that doesn't. It will still probably get rid of anything that is technically an example of your body functioning imperfectly, which all three of these things are. The society in your setting might apply these criteria indirectly, but really, why would they? Very few people like the side effects of aging on the body (and most people typically don't want to die), the issues that come with scars or glasses are annoying (speaking as someone with both) and I can see a lot of people getting rid of them when possible too. If they don't then it's just using the "not everyone wants it approach" I mentioned earlier. If there's some law or some kind of external pressure to push people away from fixing these more normalised issues, then it's using the "restrictions" method I mentioned earlier too.

Once again, you can do whatever you like with your fantasy setting, but it's something I think that would be worth thinking about at least.

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everythingloveandanimated · 1 month ago

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Murtagh in response something Eragon said: Don’t tempt me into wishing I was an only child.

So many different scenarios that could come from this line!

1) Eragon was teasing Murtagh. They both know Murtagh is teasing back, but also telling Eragon to tone it down or knock it off. Eragon gives him a light push but relents.

2) Eragon isn’t quite sure if Murtagh is jesting with that statement. He knows their upbringing and the death of Selena are sore spots for Murtagh. Murtagh has been working on forgiving Selena, and to an extent Eragon, but Eragon wonders if this is a sign that Murtagh either hasn’t forgiven yet, or if it’s a cycle, or a choice he has to make everyday. Or is Murtagh just having a bad day and Eragon prodded where he shouldn’t have?

Murtagh knows Eragon was instrumental in Galbatorix’s defeat and rise of the Dragon’s from the ashes. So he won’t actually wish he was an only child for those reasons. He does have to explain himself when Eragon asks if he meant that statement.

3) It comes out and neither of them know how much is truth. Murtagh has a good sense of self awareness, but even this surprises him because Eragon gone would mean Galbatorix would still be reigning, Durza might still be walking (cough skulking) the land. It throws Eragon off guard and Murtagh has to evaluate and explain himself later.

4) Arguing and Murtagh says it as a warning to Eragon.

#2 and 3 are about the same just different emotional responses #not sure what else to put in tags #murtagh #murtagh morzansson #eragon #eragon shadeslayer #eragon bromsson #they’re brothers your honor

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womenloverlmao · 9 months ago

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13 Days of Halloween - Day 1

Carrie - Charlie Walker X Reader

Charlie loved you, and everything about you. He loved your looks, your mind, your heart. He even loved your weird obsession with books, one that is known among quiet teenage girls. His favorite thing about that, though, was when you were done and he got to watch the movie adaptations of the books you read with you. When Twilight first came out, you read it, and he got to see it with you. There were many other stories like this, but with the speed at which you read, it was too many to name.

Recently, you had read Carrie for the first time. You enjoyed Stephen King as much as the next person, but you weren’t a huge fan. You knew the general plot of it before you read it, but you were pleasantly surprised when you read about it despite its anti-religion connotation. You loved the book, and this time you were happy to be able to watch this movie with Charlie.

You got to snuggle up that night with a couple snacks and watch a movie together like you did once or twice a week, depending on how you felt. It was a fun event for both you and your boyfriend to enjoy. You never really pointed out the book vs movie stuff, feeling no need to cause an argument between you and Charlie even if it was all in good fun. Carrie was no exception.

As Halloween started to come up, you knew what you were gonna be. You loved the book, and you liked the movie, so you knew that you were going to be Carrie White. You told Charlie that you were going to go as her, and he didn’t think much of it. You were specifically looking forward to doing a book accurate portrayal of her, because you didn’t like that they got it wrong in the movies. I mean, that’s what the whole point of a film adaptation is, isn’t it?

You were gonna go to one of Kirby’s parties and bring your boyfriend with you, and so you got ready on your own before you would go to pick up Charlie. You were wearing the red dress, you had managed to thrift one that didn’t look exactly as described–specifically with the sleeves–but was good enough. You had put some fake blood on your face, but not much. You put the crown on and then added some on there too, letting some get into your hair. It was gross, but you knew that you had succeeded and this was one of the best costumes you had done.

When you went to pick Charlie up, he was confused. “I thought you were being Carrie White?”

“I am Carrie White,” you told him.

“But her dress is white…?”

“No, that’s only in the movie. I guess it’s supposed to portray an innocence or some sort in the movies, but actually, Stephen King had originally mentioned that it was red and actually went into detail about what the dress was supposed to look like. In the movie, they don’t follow any of it. I actually don’t really like it, and I don’t like a lot about how the movie was made, but still…”

“Why would they need to portray innocence if she was just going to kill everyone anyways?”

“Well, you know how the pig's blood gets poured? When the red gets on her, that symbolizes that innocence being lost.”

Anyways that conversation went on all the way to Kirby’s, and as soon as you saw her, she immediately said. “Damn, girl. You’re beautiful, I…am gonna assume you’re Carrie?”

“Thank you. And, yes. As of tonight, that’s my name,” you said with a smile. “Charlie doesn’t believe that I’m Carrie because my dress isn’t white.”

“Don’t get me involved in one of those conversations, I heard it happen about Eragon back in like…Freshman year.”

You laughed, but you looked over at Charlie. You gave him a smile, one that said I win.

Anyways, you had a lot of fun with your boyfriend that night. After winning that little dispute, it truly was a Happy Halloween for you.

#rory culkin #charlie walker #charlie walker x reader #charlie walker x you #scream four #scream #rory culkin scream #scream 4 #scream franchise #13 days of halloween

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fastestfrog · 7 months ago

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I don’t understand how anyone could find Roran from the inheritance cycle boring. I’ve seen a few people mention that they find his chapters dull and I’m like HOW!?

Allow me to present my case.

The defence of Carvahall is one of my favourite sequences of all time. Eldest is definitely my favourite of the 4 main books (still reading murtagh) pretty much because of Roran. And even in the later books every moment with Rorans harebrained schemes and ferocious battles that he barely survives? It’s incredible, keeps me hooked to every word.

Does the fact that he kills nigh on 200 people in one battle seem a bit high? Yes of course, but if you remember the context that he positioned himself and his men in a way that they had to come at him one at a time it does make sense. It’s still Herculean, but he got badly injured in the process, it was only thanks to Carns magic that he didn’t bleed out. He was willing to die to win that battle, and that lends someone strength and stamina beyond normal means.

But more importantly, Roran is intelligent, and he has insane willpower. Like, Eragon admits himself he could never do what Roran has done. His feats of strength and endurance are mental.

But Rorans not just a heartless killer, like Eragon, he struggles with the lives he’s taken, regrets that the deaths were in his opinion necessary. He loves his home and his family and wants a peaceful life for Katrina, Ismira and the other villagers.

His sense of humour is sometimes grim but other times he enjoys having a laugh with his mates. His sense of honour and duty also matter to him.

I also love that despite being a rough, tough, battle hardened warrior, Paolini writes the scene with him breaking down to Katrina about everything he’s been through. He weeps for his loss and the lives he’s taken and the lives of his friends.

His ending is also perfect and so well deserved.

His character is so well written, multi-faceted and every scene he’s in is brilliant, whether it be the excitement of battle, the awe of a cunning plan, the sadness and grief of the realities of war, and the beauty of his love for Katrina, his family and his home.

#roran stronghammer #the inheritance cycle #eragon #i love him

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murtagh-thorn · 7 months ago

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Dark Legacies Part II: Smoke on the Horizon

Pairing: eventual Murtagh x Rider!Reader Summary: Six months after arriving at Eragon's Rider Academy, secrets are revealed, missions are botched, and a long-awaited meeting of kindred spirits finally occurs under a smoke-filled sky. Warnings: canon-typical violence, descriptive battle scene, mentions of past trauma/isolation. 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. Read Part I and see my masterlist here!

***

Sometime after the Battle of Tronjheim, in Urû’baen

The small red creature chirped from within Murtagh’s cupped palms, his tiny eyes holding sadness befitting a much larger, older creature. He was barely a few days old and already burdened with an adult’s grief.

Murtagh sighed, rearranging himself on the cold, hard, cell floor to put the hatchling in his lap. A pale strip of moonlight shone through the barred cell window and the only sound was the steady drip drip of a leak caused by this morning’s rain. He remembered stretching his cupped hands through the bars and greedily slurping up what he could before offering the next handful to his dragon. The dragon was sated much faster than he was, being hardly bigger than his two palms. He leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes, opening them a moment later as the dragon purred and snuggled into his abdomen. He gently ran a finger over the top of its head, reveling in the contented mews from the creature. He could sense its fear, hunger, thirst, but also his unwavering trust and love for his new Rider.

Rider, Murtagh thought with a mixture of awe and bitterness. Once this dragon was large enough, they’d be a powerful duo—able to protect each other through sheer size and magic, and then their enemies would get what was coming to them. So many people had tried to take Murtagh down—and even before he did anything. His only crime during his time at the Varden was being Morzan’s son and now the king and his cronies considered him a traitor worthy of torture. He remembered when the guards had forced him down on his knees in front of the king, a table with some cloth-covered object sitting in front of the throne. He had wondered what new form of torture this would be, only to realize it was something much, much worse. Galbatorix had ripped away the cloth to reveal a smooth, red egg that immediately began to crack just as Murtagh began to form the word “no—”

They would forever be outcasts now—to everyone. The empire considered Murtagh a traitor: captured fighting for the resistance and brought in cloaked with chains. Even if the king somehow forced Murtagh and his dragon to serve him, it would have to be by magic or coercion. Or both. Surely, those close to the king and his staff would be aware of this and of the fact that he wasn’t any sort of willing or loyal servant. On the flip side, Murtagh showing up on a large red dragon under the banner of the king to squash the Varden? Even if he refused to kill anyone, Eragon and his ilk would see him as a traitor as well. Because of the birth of his dragon, they now would no longer be accepted anywhere without the greatest resistance.

Sensing his rider’s thoughts, the dragon looked up at Murtagh with a heartbroken look on his face. Although he couldn’t form mental sentences, Murtagh knew that the dragon wondered if he was considered a curse.

Murtagh gently stroked the dragon’s head again. “You’re not the punishment, my friend,” he said softly before glancing at the bars of the cell in front of him. Beyond that stood a thick, stone wall with an equally immovable locked door. A small, barred square in the top showed the torchlight flickering in the hallway as the heavy thud of guards walking to and fro punctuated the dripping noise. “But I’m sure we’ll both find out what it is soon enough.”

~***~

Ground Zero (one year ago; Year 0)

Despite the burning in your legs, you continued to run deeper into the cave. You weren’t even sure how deep this cave went, but your panic dispelled your sense of danger. Luckily, it hadn’t for the little creature hidden safely in your jacket and you could sense its fear at the growing dark, dampness, and quiet drip drip of a leak somewhere. You slowed to a halt and glanced behind you to see the light of day from the cave’s mouth a tiny pinprick at the top of the path sloping above you.

You stood for a moment and panted, glancing around to see a small flat area just ahead of you. You went to it and leaned against the wall, letting yourself slide down to sit and tilt your head back.

A tiny gurgle sounded from inside your jacket and you undid the stays to reveal the newly hatched black dragon snuggled against your chest. She raised her head to inspect her surroundings before gently butting her tiny head against your jaw, rubbing in a way that reminded you of a cat. She purred quietly before snuggling into the hollow between your neck and shoulder, holding your shirt’s fabric in between her small maws.

You sighed, gently rubbing your thumb back and forth over her head. “Hi, baby.”

You could sense her comfort, elation, and affection at the nickname and smiled.

“Well, I can’t call you baby forever. You’ll need a name eventually.”

A bird chirped from somewhere nearby, causing your dragon to snap her head up. You glanced toward the cave’s ceiling to see a bird’s nest nestled in a small nook. Your dragon was immediately up and out of your arms before you could grab her, clumsily using a combination of her wings—which she was still figuring out—and claws to drag herself up the cave wall and into the alcove. You winced at the startled shrieks and growls coming from the small hole. Several feathers floated out followed by an egg splatting on the ground below. It was silent for a moment until you heard some quiet lip-smacking and a small belch. To your surprise, your dragon emerged walking backward before falling out of the hole, dragging something along with her. You rushed to catch her before she could hit the ground, as whatever souvenir she had was too heavy to fly with.

The dragon landed hard in your outstretched hands, rolling over to look up at you with adoring eyes. Despite her terror from earlier, all you could sense from the creature now was complete loyalty and admiration. The egg delegation—or whatever they called themselves—from Eragon’s Rider Academy had traveled all the way from Vroengard to your small village just outside Dras-Leona to see if any new Riders were waiting there. Three elves, one in charge of the eggs and two warriors, accompanied by a young Rider and their dragon had swooped in and amazed the townsfolk. A few of the older children had eggs hatch for them right away as the elf in charge explained to a concerned parent that the large black egg in the bunch was rumored to have been sired by Shruikan—the old king’s mad beast. It was given a wide berth after that, but you couldn’t help feeling pity for the dragon inside. You were no stranger to being an outcast, and this dragon hadn’t even been born yet. They’d committed no crimes other than existing, and you couldn’t help but wish you could make them feel loved if no one else would.

Maybe that’s why a small crack appeared when you’d gone to get a closer look. Just as you had, a small smoking sphere hit the ground several yards away from you. There was just enough time for the screaming to start before it exploded, kicking up dust from the road into an opaque cloud. You’d grabbed the black egg and held it close to your chest. The explosion, however, rocked the ground and blew out enough of a shockwave that it furthered the crack the tiny dragon inside was trying to make. Shards flew everywhere as there was a fierce flash of light, slicing over your face and hands, to reveal the small, terrified dragon inside. You’d immediately shoved her inside your jacket, ignoring the searing pain in the palm of your hand, before sprinting in the opposite direction. Men in black hoods with fearsome, jarring masks that reminded you of twisted, black skulls immediately started chasing you, screaming something in an unknown language with the common tongue peppered in—but one thing was clear, they wanted your dragon and your cold corpse.

Over the course of the day, you’d lost them, then they found you again. Then you lost them, and they found you again. Then you’d lost them, but since they’d been pillaging and burning everything in their path, several passersby pointed you out to your assailants as you tried to hide. You’d somehow lost them once again in the forest before finding this cave. You could feel your dragon’s gratitude at not only wanting to offer her love, but risking your life to protect her. Even though she couldn’t form mental sentences yet, you could sense she was making the same promise back to you: especially once she was larger in size—and considering Shruikan was her sire, she would likely be very large—no harm would come to you.

She suddenly jumped out of your hands and took the object she’d worked so hard to bring out of the hole in her mouth. You did a doubletake as you realized your outstretched palm now bore a silver mark. Before you could inspect it too closely, the dragon pranced back over to you with a muffled “mmrph?” to show off her prize.

You bent and realized it was the bird’s nest before receiving the mental image of a small fire from your dragon. You smiled, petting her little head again. “Good girl, thank you.”

She made a small mlem as you gently took it from her jaws. She sniffed the air and turned to gobble up the broken egg on the ground before returning to your side. You returned to the place you’d been sitting and set the nest on the ground in front of you, making a border out of some nearby stones. A mysterious woman who lived in your village for a few years when you were younger had taught you some magic and you couldn’t help but be grateful for it now. You stretched your fingers out towards the fire before muttering, “Brisingr.”

Sparks flew from your fingertips to ignite the nest. It wasn’t a huge fire, but it would be enough to keep you warm as night rolled in.

Your dragon jumped at the whoosh the flames made, trilling and hiding themselves inside your jacket again. You laughed. “You’ll have to get used to that, since one day that will come out of your mouth.”

The dragon peeked up out of your jacket and tilted her head in question. You stroked her scales and she closed her eyes with a contented sound.

Your own contentment faded as the reality of your situation hit: you and your dragon might be outcasts for a while. With her being Shruikan’s offspring, people would likely always be suspicious of you right off the bat—and that wasn’t even taking the masked men who would probably continue to hunt you into consideration. People in the village were very quick to blow your cover if it meant their own safety. You couldn’t completely blame them, but it did make you wonder who you could trust. You doubted you’d find the delegation very easily to take you back to Vroengard with everyone else now. And would they even want to? Or would they assume that would put a target on the backs of young children and defenseless hatchlings? You and your dragon were solidly on your own now. Because of her birth, you may now no longer be accepted anywhere without the greatest paranoia.

Sensing her rider’s thoughts, the dragon opened her eyes and looked at you with concern. Although she couldn’t form mental sentences, you knew she wondered if she was considered a curse.

You used two fingers this time to gently stroke the sides of your dragon’s neck. “You are anything but a curse. I’ll always protect you and have your back.”

The dragon chirped happily before butting her forehead against yours and snuggling into your chest once more.

You placed a protective hand over her body, feeling the soft membrane of her wings against your fingers. “So, how does the name Gormlaith sound?”

~***~

Now--Year 1

A group of bandits—even one as large as this—should’ve been no problem for Murtagh, especially when he had Thorn with him. But they had been much more equipped and organized than he’d anticipated. Since his mission was more undercover, he’d been riding a horse while Thorn flew high above in the sky when the bandits had first attacked. He’d successfully held them off for a while until they started pouring out of the nearby brush in large numbers. When Thorn had flown in to save him, they’d rolled some sort of ballista out of the forest’s cover before disarming Murtagh and forcing him to his knees. Before he’d had time to warn his dragon, they’d loosed the bolt rigged inside, its tip covered in slimy, black goo. It didn’t go deep or even hit a fatal area, but surprised Thorn into losing his balance. Murtagh could feel him suddenly grow woozy and clumsy through their mental link before crashing to the ground a few yards away. The bandits wasted no time in throwing a large, metallic net over him.

Murtagh tried to quell his panic as Thorn’s mind grew increasingly hazy. Had this group developed some sort of dragon poison, or did they just want to knock him out? He’d never heard of a poison that was this painless and fast-acting. But why try to capture either of them in the first place? And how the hell were they so well-equipped?

Murtagh fought against his captors as they dragged his hands behind his back to bind them. “What do you want?”

No one responded, just held onto him tighter as Thorn’s eyelids continued to droop.

I…I can’t keep my head…up…

Don’t go to sleep, Murtagh begged, his chest heaving. Fight it.

I’m trying…

Movement from behind the group of men in front of him caught his eye. There were ten of them in front of him, weapons all trained closely on him, another four holding him, and another eight surrounding Thorn. They looked like ordinary bandits—their hoods up with cloth masks over their faces, their clothes and gear (aside from the shiny, new ballista and net) worn and rusty. Through the group in front of him, Murtagh could see someone in all black moving toward him. The crowd parted and Murtagh’s breath caught in his throat as a man clad in all black, hood drawn, and face hidden by a black skull mask, emerged and simply stared down at him. He clung tightly to a flail before glancing at Thorn, making Murtagh realize even his eyes were covered with some sort of black mesh that he could clearly see out of, but rendered his eye color a mystery.

“Well done hunting us,” he said, turning his face back to Murtagh. His voice was unremarkable aside from the fact that it was male and muffled by the mask. “You were so close.”

Murtagh tested his captors’ strength again and again failed. He growled in frustration; ever since you and Gormlaith had arrived at the academy, the masked men who had been chasing you had been on everyone’s minds—including the queen, who worried about the threat they posed to everyone as a whole. For the last six months, Murtagh and Thorn had been away from the academy (minus the few trips to return and recoup) hunting for clues about this group. He’d found nothing beyond tracking their path and always being several steps behind, barely missing them whenever they seemed to stop and refuel. There were rumors that they were somehow affiliated with a witch who was just as elusive, but he’d found nothing else helpful. They’d been quiet since you’d arrived at the academy, but clearly on the move—and now it was obvious they’d been equipping themselves with followers and means to take down a dragon aplenty.

Murtagh could feel Thorn slipping further and further into sleep. Stay with me, friend. All he got was a long sigh in response as the dragon’s eyes fell closed and didn’t open again. He could still feel him alive and unharmed, but rapidly losing consciousness.

A bandit with a blue hood and mask who stood directly behind the masked man spoke up. “Where are we taking them?”

“To the black sands.”

Just then, a distant roar filled the air with a tone that betrayed its large size. Thorn’s eyes barely flickered open as their assailants looked up in concern.

“I thought you said this would be the only dragon around for miles,” the man with the blue hood said. “We only have the one net and used our only bolt already.”

The distant beat of wings grew louder until it was thundering toward them from behind. Murtagh tried to turn his head, but it was roughly shoved back to look at the ground. He carefully reached out with his mind and touched a vast, unyielding consciousness with a hint of darkness—and maybe even a tinge of madness—that immediately blocked him out. From his view of the ground, he saw a large shadow suddenly block out the sun as the men in front of him began to panic. Another roar, this time much closer, rang through the sky, so deep and loud that Murtagh felt it vibrate in his chest. There was barely time to register anything before fire rained down, taking out several of the men guarding Thorn and the ballista. Screams and the smell of fire filled the air as the bandits before him broke formation to head for cover in the nearby forest while those on fire jumped in the river on the opposite side.

Now free of his guards, Thorn tried his best to get up and shake the net off, but to no avail.

“Stand your ground!” the blue hood cried.

The masked man held out his hand to keep him from drawing his sword. “It’s no good.”

“It’s one dragon and rider—and the ones you wanted, at that!”

“She’s much, much larger than anticipated. She’s grown too quickly and we don’t have the means to bring her down—and she’s angry. Live to fight another day—and this way, you’ll live to see your pay.”

Another roar sounded, filling Murtagh’s ears to the point of pain. He screwed his eyes shut against the ringing in his head as the shadow fell over them again. A column of fire missed his head by mere feet as the men holding him ducked, yelling in terror.

“Pull back!” the blue hood screamed. “To the forest, now!”

The men holding Murtagh threw him to the ground. He landed hard on his back and felt all the air woosh out of his lungs. Once he’d managed to catch it, he knew the sight before him wouldn’t leave his mind anytime soon: part of the forest and the ground ahead of him were engulfed in flame, several of the bandits making a run for it. Black smoke plumed into the air as a great, black dragon moved to hover just over the tree line, and he had to remind himself that it wasn’t Shruikan in front of him. The beating of its wings drove the smoke back toward Murtagh, obscuring his vision and causing him to cough. As the masked man made his way towards the tree line, a figure emerged from the smoke as if born from it. They were also clad in all black armor, the symbol of the academy’s bodyguards emblazoned on their chest. In their hands, they held a wicked sword with a black blade, several notches along the steel to create the illusion of spikes.

They strode towards the masked man with purpose and as some of the smoke cleared, Murtagh realized it was you. Although you’d never been formally introduced with him being in and out of the academy so much since you’d arrived, he’d recognize you anywhere. You’d become a bit of a celebrity at the academy and he couldn’t deny you’d caught his eye more than once in group conversations. He’d never seen you geared up for battle though and especially with Gormlaith behind you and your black blade, you were truly a sight to behold.

You and the masked man met in the middle and he swung out with his flail. Murtagh scrambled to his feet just as you ducked to avoid the blow, grabbing Zar��roc where the bandits had abandoned it on the ground and running to your aid. Before he could get close enough to help, you swung for the masked man’s leg. He blocked the blow with the handle of his weapon just in time for you to swing your own handle into his face, stabbing the cross guard of your sword right through the eye of his mask. He shrieked and stumbled back a few steps. Murtagh swung out with Zar’roc just as the man turned. But instead of slicing solid flesh, he found himself slicing through a sudden cloud of black mist that scattered on the wind, leaving the two of you alone amongst the carnage.

You both stared at each other in silence for a moment before looking around, keeping tight grips on your swords. When no one reappeared after a few minutes, you sheathed your sword into the scabbard slung across your back before making your way over to Murtagh.

~***~

“Are you all right?” you asked, glancing at the red dragon still immobile under the net several yards away.

I’ll help him, Gormlaith said before quickly landing by his side, her wings scattering the smoke back towards the wrecked forest behind you. You glanced at the havoc all around—it was hard not to scorch the earth with every entrance with a dragon that size, but it did have its uses. And you couldn’t deny the confidence boost in knowing you were safe with both your skills and dragon.

“I’m fine,” the man in front of you answered, picking up his scabbard. He sheathed his sword and belted it around his waist. “But Thorn has been heavily sedated.”

You nodded, looking at your dragon as she took the net in her teeth and gently pulled it off Thorn’s body. He groaned and shifted his head to look back at her, but seemed he couldn’t raise it very far off the ground.

“Have you ever encountered any sort of sedative that could take a dragon out like this before?” you asked.

“No.” The man swallowed hard, gripping the pommel of his sword until his knuckles turned white. He motioned for you to follow him as he quickly trudged to his dragon’s side. “They shot him with some sort of bolt. It didn’t go deep or hit anywhere deadly, but it was coated in some sort of…goop. An invention of these masked men, I assume.”

You watched in concern as the man leaned against his dragon’s head, gently massaging his jaw. The dragon blearily opened his eyes before settling against the ground, leaning gently into his rider’s body.

The man sighed before turning back to you. “Well…we can’t move him. Even with your dragon’s large size, I doubt she could carry him anywhere along with the two of us.”

You glanced at the setting sun. “It will be night soon and we at least have some cover from the nearby forest. We could camp here for the night, set some wards, and hope this is worn off by the morning.”

He nodded. “How did you get here? I thought you two were back at the academy.”

“We were one of two rider and dragon bodyguards for an egg delegation nearby, but saw Thorn flying through the sky just to suddenly plummet. We got leave from the lead guardian to come see what was going on.”

“By yourselves? Even though these masked men are still out there and hunting you?”

“Well,” you shrugged, “Gormlaith’s big enough and I’ve had enough training to handle ourselves.”

The man scoffed and glanced at the still-smoking trees. “Clearly.”

You chuckled. “But we did promise Eragon we’d behave, so…” You shoved your hands in your pockets and bounced on the balls of your feet, “there, uh, go our ‘leave-the-grounds’ privileges for a while, I guess.”

He gave you a small smile, resting a hand against his dragon’s head. He stared at you for a moment with a look of open admiration that you couldn’t deny stirred butterflies in your stomach. “Thank you for saving us anyway. I’m Murtagh and this is my dragon, Thorn.”

You nodded. “We’ve heard of you. I’m Y/N, and this is Gormlaith.”

Murtagh nodded, a quick flash of guilt shadowing his features before it was gone again. “And we’ve heard of you. You’re quite the celebrity back at the academy—and even among the people here in Alagaësia.”

“So we’ve heard.” You laughed humorlessly. “We’ve been called the ‘new shadow’ enough times since we landed with the delegation.” You tried not to grimace at all the memories of students, their families, and now citizens alike giving you a wide berth. Although you had a small fan club back at the academy, it mainly consisted of younger students who had no memory of the second Riders’ war. You could feel through your bond that it was even harder on Gormlaith than it was on you. She was the one who was being punished for her father’s sins, after all—but you’d both accepted that this was just the way you would exist in the world, at least for a while: alone together.

As if sensing your thoughts, Murtagh gave you a sympathetic, but grim look. “Well…you won’t be a shadow to us.”

“Thank you,” you said quietly, trying to impart with your eyes that you understood he was one of the few—if not the only—person who could truly understand your plight. You held each other’s gaze for several moments before looking away awkwardly. “Well, we should get started with the wards. You can take that side, and I’ll take this side. There should be enough things on fire that starting one shouldn’t be too hard.”

You’re welcome, Gormlaith said, expanding her consciousness so Murtagh and Thorn could hear her, too.

You both laughed, Thorn giving a meager snort that could’ve been taken as one as well, before getting to work. The perimeter of the ward had to be large to accommodate Thorn and enough room for you to sleep in. Gormlaith was always hyper-aware of her surroundings and large enough that you weren’t worried about fitting her in—and the two of you always had light wards anyway. Once a fire was made, the nearby river made for easy fishing via magic. Murtagh insisted on cooking the meat with the utensils he always carried with him as a thank you. You weren’t sure how long you sat and talked, insisting on staying throughout the night to make sure he and Thorn would be all right. Your caregiver and magic teacher had been adamant that you learn how to read well and the two of you talked about books and scrolls you read for so long, you lost track of time. Murtagh seemed pleasantly surprised by your knowledge of the topic and his air was much lighter and more open than what you’d seen the few times you’d run into him at the academy. You’d only ever seen both him and Thorn from across the way or run into him during group conversations where he didn’t say much and disappeared quickly. But they’d both seemed much more tense and closed off then, and you’d certainly never seen him smile. Scoring more than one laugh out of him during your conversation felt like you’d won a prize and up close, you realized just how handsome he really was. If not for his past, you were sure the women at the academy would’ve been all over him trying to get just a shred of his attention. He’d always struck you as very reserved, but this new hint of shyness when he looked at and talked to you was new and only increased your own nervousness that you hoped he couldn’t detect.

Mmm, I see he’s struck someone’s fancy, Gormlaith teased.

Oh, shut up—as if you weren’t admiring his dragon earlier.

A girl can look; that’s not a crime.

A while after Gormlaith had laid down, you realized just how high in the sky the moon was. “We should get some sleep—but before we do, I wanted to ask if you’d learned anything about the masked men in the last six months?”

Murtagh took a drink from his water skin and shrugged. “Not much more than we already know—except I’ve heard rumors that they may be connected to some witch who’s been equally elusive. I’ve always seemed to be two steps behind them and didn’t even know they were tracking us back until they already had us.” He paused. “I know you two are capable, but you need to be careful about leaving the academy…” He glanced at his feet. “I’d hate to see anything happen to you.”

You nodded. Although you also believed in your and Gormlaith’s capabilities, you couldn’t help but worry about what all this meant not only for your own lives, but the people around you. If you hadn’t arrived when you did, who knew what could’ve happened to Murtagh and Thorn? Before you’d even been formally introduced, you’d already put a target on their backs. Who else was now a target because of you?

Murtagh interrupted your thoughts. “We should get some sleep now. You’ll probably want to return to the delegation first thing in the morning.”

You stood, untying your bedroll from where it was strapped to Gormlaith’s side. “Well, as long as Thorn’s more coherent by then.”

Murtagh sighed as he grabbed his own bedroll. “I’m hoping he’ll just sleep it off. He’s definitely out right now.” He gently rubbed his dragon’s head again. “We might come back to the academy with you this time. Thorn could probably use a rest after this, especially before we venture any further away from the coast.”

You nodded, laying out your bedroll close to Gormlaith’s side and settling in.

I’ll take first watch and wake you in a few hours, she said before gently nuzzling your side with the tip of her nose.

All right, you replied, already enjoying the warmth radiating from her body as you rolled to face her.

After a few moments of nothing but the crackling of the fire, Murtagh quietly said, “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Night,” you mumbled, already half asleep and picturing his smiling face again in your mind.

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

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tonhalszendvics · 9 months ago

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An Inheritance Cycle story I'll probably never write, but this sucker doesn't want to leave me alone. Long story short under the cut.

Selena was said to be a super spy/assassin type of character, except that people knew about her. I mean, Jeod did, and Brom was a very secretive guy, I am pretty sure that Jeod didn't hear about her from him. And then Galbatorix named his secret service after her, because there was fear connected to the name 'Black Hand'. Thanks, Selena.

Okay, so the AU goes like this: Selena is a super spy/assassin. Nobody knows, who is she, what is she doing, who is she working for. Some people suspect the king, but then she shows up and asks someone else for a favour in a name of a lesser lord or something. She is changing like the weather, nobody knows what does she look like exactly. Want to hire her for a job? Good luck. You were able to get into contact with her? Consider the job as done and yourself as absolutely poor, because even her smallest service costs a fortune.

And then Brom meets her. They don't tell shit to each other, for sure, but the spark is there. So, things are going on their way, Eragon is born, but in this AU, there is no egg-race, Selena just hands the kid over to Brom and says that he'll be more safe with him. Their meetings are scarce, but Eragon gets to know his mama.

Until he's around six or seven years old. Because then something happens in Uru'baen, there is a big boom and a shitton of dead people in the castle. The king and Morzan are furious. A blue egg vanishes.

Mere days later – too soon, so Selena was already on her way when that shit went down – Selena comes to meet Brom and Eragon for the last time, with her eyes blindfolded, because then she'll be able to say that she didn't see them. She tells Brom that she has a husband in Uru'baen. Her and Brom's thing started on the ground that she was missing the night-time company, but she started to have feelings for him. But now, she has to go back to her lord, whom she had sworn to. She has to, because otherwise her other son will be hurt. She doesn't say names. Brom knows, that it's too dangerous.

It also dawns on him that most of the information he's got from her was via her husband. That guy must be a big shot in the Empire. They promise each other that if the Empire goes down by a miracle or something, they'll meet in the end, and if they still love each other, they'll find out what the hell to do.

Then time flies and war-wise most of the canon happens. There aren't much from Selena, but she still succeeds telling this and that to the Varden via secret letters and always changing ways. She was able to hand over some top-secret, very valuable information to the Varden. The communication is one-sided, though, they cannot reach her.

A bunch of victorious Varden are cheering in the occupied capital, when the news come that after the king's death, Morzan put down the sword without anything. He even kneeled on the ground and let himself be tied up, while Brom was trying to avoid having an aneurism. I mean, Brom wanted to kill the guy since forever. Their epic dramatic duel, however, was nowhere near to the end, when the king died. And it wouldn't be honourable to kill a surrendered soldier, especially if his son returned back from the palace right in the moment when he wanted to behead him. Nahh, he has to be the bigger guy.

If Brom is not able to kill Morzan in the battle, then he'd do that through a trial. Everybody is very happy to attend and throw in their two cents, Eragon understands all the hatred, but he still feels very uncomfortable because of all that combined hatred. And Morzan doesn't say anything, he takes it without a word, maybe corrects people here and there when they mess up listing his sins.

And boom, there is Selena. She comes, bows, smiles to Brom then says to Nasuada, that she was promised amnesty for her and her family for her services, and his son is in big trouble because of the occupation, so if they would be so kind to provide her the needed document, she is off already, she and her family won't mess with their schedule for the rest of the day.

Eragon is obviously overjoyed, that A) mama is alive; B) he gets to meet his big brother. So he obviously prods everybody to hurry up with that amnesty.

Document in her hand, the ink still wet, she turns on her heels and in front of everyone, she asks Morzan, that what does he know, where is their son. And Morzan answers. Then with a word, loosens the ties on him, stands up, and when people draw swords, he adds in a mocking tone, that pardon, I was granted amnesty just now via my wife, and as you've heard, my son is in grave danger, if you'd excuse us. Eragon, dear boyfriend-in-law, want to come?

It takes three seconds for Brom to realise, that Morzan meant him, and then he has to try very hard the second time that day to avoid an aneurism.

Anyway, they go, get Murtagh out of that dire situation, because it turns out that little children are actually pretty cute and able to melt a war criminal's ice-cold heart, so Morzan was a good dad this time, and he and Selena were blackmailed with him. That trouble thingy back then, that separated Selena from the other side of the family was when the king found out that his general's heart changed, and that Selena was also a double-spy, so boom, he took Murtagh away, and suddenly the parents were absolutely A-class thralls again. Idk if Murtagh was even out in the battlefield this time, or every stuff he did was handed over to Morzan, while he was in house arrest somewhere. (Does he even know how to fight or is he Orrin No. 2 with all the science?)

Anyway, Murtagh and Eragon bond over dragons in zero second and decide it's the best for them if they just leave their parents to be. Brom needs a bit of time and a bit more cajoling from Selena to loosen up, but in the end they are a traumatised and super messed up polycule. Morzan regrets that in the moment he says something and Brom answers with a mortifying secret from their childhood. They might end up in a fist fight. Selena doesn't say anything to them (too busy getting slate tablets), because in the end they kiss (and she has to make fairths).

That was the AU in a nutshell. I hope this one will leave me alone now. :') Thanks for coming to my story night, take care!

#inheritance cycle #the world of eragon #eragon #murtagh #selena (inheritance cycle)#brom #morzan #polyamory #nonmonogamy #why make kids dramatic when their parents have all that potential to be even more dramatic #I'd probably mess up this story with making it super angsty (again)#but this one has so much joke potential #tonhal pofázik #i'm writing #fic in a nutshell

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malbontesmrs · 4 days ago

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Weeeeeeeeeeeeelllllllp.

Malbonte ripped out Lola’s wings 😬😬😬

But not before Zigola had their “awkward post-breakup reunion”, and Fencio’s “bilious speech” (he was momentarily proud of Malbonte for calling it out 😂… sigh).

Then Lola tried to escape, and well, you know… it… went... 😂

Husband kinda went eerily silent, looked at me and asked me if Malbonte gets better in HS2. My reply, of course, was something like this:

😬

“… eventually…”

Haha yup. So my husband is now very much questioning my taste in pixel men. “Dino wouldn’t have done this to Lola!”

😬😂😬

(He’s right, he wouldn’t have).

Until Malbonte ripped out her wings, he was pretty upset that Malbola didn’t have any spicy scenes in the camp. Apparently, she’s at risk of losing her “best hoe life” status because of him. 😂

He was happy to see Lola’s new mom (Mammon, now, because Winchesto died), and he was happy he had the choice for Lola not to spill anything to Rebecca about Malbonte’s camp (apparently, even with the wing thing he’s the lesser of two evils 😂)

Lola saw Adi in the Valley of Death, and until the “die! Die! Die!” Part, he was on board with Adola. (grey skin just adds to Adi’s charm, apparently).

(😂. At this point I’m pretty sure he’s just teasing me).

To (probably) nobody’s surprise, Lola did not help Rebecca in the Valley of Death 😂.

“Good! She should have to face Lola’s mom for she’s done!” (Winchesto. Lola has a handful of moms now, so it probably doesn’t hurt to clarify😂).

And when Fencio died:

“I mean, he deserved it… but wtf Malbonte, his son is right there!”

(Fair point. That was kind of messed up of him).

My husband and I are clearly soulmates, because he also (still) hates Eragon.

Husband: (at the part where Rebecca asks Eragon how he can remain so calm when it was his sister in the legend, and Eragon replies that it wasn’t Malbonte’s fault): oh look, this guy can be reasonable!

(Two seconds later, when Eragon casually adds that Malbonte needs to be destroyed anyway)

Husband: Just kidding!

I DID end up asking him to let Rebecca poison Yore 😂

Husband: damn babe, ice cold. His baby is in the house! No wonder you like Malbonte so much. (Because we’re both cold, apparently).

… I won’t tell him it’s because I want HIM to hate Malbonte a little less when all of Lola’s friends die. I don’t know if Malbonte will kill Mimi (maybe not?) but he will kill Mammon (and Lucifer; though I doubt my husband cares much about that), so… 😬

At the part where Yore exclaims about having a child and Rebecca is like “so do I!”:

“the fuck you do. Mammon is Lola’s mom.”

Somehow, he was surprised when Yore died, because apparently he didn’t expect it to actually happen. Oops. 😬

I think the loudest he’s laughed at the entire story so far was when Rebecca faked her concern for Yore, then dropped the act while she was still talking to Yore’s wife. I don’t know if it was unexpected, or what, but he thought it was hilarious.

When Rebecca revealed the big family secret:

Husband: oh I get it, her hatred for Malbonte is a weird self-loathing thing (I meeeeeeeean, he has a point! 🫣)

He also definitely pointed out (like four times during the last episode) that there’s only four episodes left and Malbola haven’t even kissed yet. I told him that was right, and to compensate for my pain of having a LI with no scenes until the very end of the book, he should cook dinner to make me feel better.

…. He did 😂😍

Anyway, I’m pretty sure it’s the next episode where Malbola finally kiss. More to come!

(Previous post here)

#Mr. Lola plays HS

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onfirebyday · 2 months ago

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#7 the stranger

I felt like Emily Ellet has a better take on Rachel's voice than the previous narrator has of Jake's - though that could be because I was already familiar with her from the animorphology podcast. I really liked her Marco as well, and thought that her Ax is really deadpan.

I really hate the "people say I'm pretty. I don't know and I don't care" line (though the audiobook delivery was brilliant). I just think it is pretty transparently untrue. Even if all her hobbies and taste of style were completely coincidentally correlated to what people think looks good and is on trend, she definitely knows it. like, c'mon. maybe I'm being sensitive to the gender of it all because we've been discussing it heavily in the recently recorded episodes of my podcast (check out e is for dragon if you're in the the Eragon books btw 😉) as Inheritance completely changes the characters of all the female characters for the worse.

love Cassie pointing out the skunk and it's kits, nice foreshadowing for number 9 (I think that's the skunk book?)

Ax's story about being attacked by a cougar is so so funny, and something I had completely forgotten

Marco and Tobias working together is super unusual. so far they have both been pretty open in their narration about not really getting along, so it's interesting that they work together (excluding Jake) to figure out the entry to the pool

the grizzly's poor eyesight is mentioned so many times before it becomes relevant

I love the Ellimist! I like how immediately annoyed by him the kids are, and the andalite superstitions/fairytales about him. the "humility? from an andalite?" quote has been my twitter header for at least four years at this point

Tobias freaking out in his human body is so sad, and it's also sad that his embarrassment means he doesn't even consider the offer - of course, he's right not too, but he is definitely having a kneejerk reaction here

I wonder how much of Marco's thought process in this book relates to the chance that the Ellimist could save his mother? He says he's changing his vote because Rachel "is losing it" but surely that also factors? also interesting how obvious his change of heart re: the war is to everyone, even if they don't know why yet

tbh I listened to the rest of this while playing the sims and didn't take many notes haha

I love the future vision, and how they all just decide to go with it. Having the pretend to be Visser 3 plan without discussing it is a nice show of how they are growing as a team and are understanding each other better

super interesting that future!Rachel and co don't expect to see Ax. I wish there were a way to know what different events happened in their timeline/universe

I really like how Rachel has this massive brainwave, gets up (leaves a note saying she's going running at 2am lmao) and gathers everyone immediately. it's just a great reaction, and it's kind of funny seeing as it isn't actually time sensitive information. they really didn't have to hit the kandrona that night, but I guess everyone's up for it

and of course, the "I wasn't being brave, I was just blind" quote ♥️ it's such an evocative sentence, and you can def read a lot into it wrt Rachel's character going forward

#animorphs #animorphs book club

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modern-inheritance · 9 months ago

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Alright one combo-wombo of MIC character lore because I feel it rn. I’ll rewrite this later.

Heads up for talk of fertility/infertility below the cut.

Even by elf standards, MIC!Arya is EXTREMELY infertile. I didn’t know how else to put it. That scar on her abdomen is from another forsworn run in and the injury itself basically destroyed one ovary and she has a lot of scarring. If she ever did conceive, there is a pretty much zero chance the pregnancy could go to term or even pass the first trimester.

Elves make a conscious decision about conception. They have to consciously decide that they are going to be trying for children. So their first time together, as biologically driven as it is, Arya just tells Eragon that there is no chance for pregnancy because of that.

When they discuss it later, though, Arya is…nervous. She doesn’t know how Eragon as an individual feels about having children in the future, but she’s seen how the people of Carvahall value blood ties and how Roran dotes on Ismira. Arya is, as I’ve shown before, more scared of Eragon disappearing from her life (through death or by finding someone else, though deep down she knows and he knows that they are as forever as it gets) and she’s lowkey terrified that Eragon would leave her if he couldn’t continue his bloodline. He’s the first Rider of a new age, after all.

Well…after cuddling his mate and telling her it doesn’t change at all how he feels, Eragon suddenly gets quiet before asking Arya if, in the future, she would be open to raising a child. Confused, Arya tries to reiterate that it’s impossible but Eragon presses back and just asks again, clarifying that he said ‘raise,’ not ‘conceive.’

She quietly tells him that yes, in the far future, if they survive the war and the Riders work out, then one day she would be open to such a thing as long as it’s with Eragon by her side.

And this man fucking leaps out of their shared cot and gets on his hands and knees to look Arya in the eye.

“Arya, do you know what that means?? We could give a child a family! Like Garrow and Miriam and Roran did for me! We could give a child a family!! Not just an elf child or a human child but ANY child! Arya, we could be parents for someone who needs a family and who needs people there for them, like all our friends are there for us! and if they aren’t from our races or cultures, look at all our friends! We can keep that part of their identity alive and a part of them! Arya, we are like…the best option for foster parents or adoptive parents or just the people they need at the time and I love you so much just so we’re clear on that–”

“How the fuck did I land such a man?”

“Technically, you threw an egg at my head!”

#aaaay I’m an adopted child #eragon is just so fucking hyped for his future kids lmao #‘looooong time to wait babe’ ‘I know I just want you to know it’s okay’’point made you dork’#two dorks in love #eragon #inheritance cycle #the cyclists #modern inheritance #the inheritance cycle #ket's modern inheritance cycle #the world of eragon #Iunno man I like the idea #now let me go shower and scream about canon

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loptrcoptr · 2 years ago

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I’ve seen an awful lot of posts re: the new Murtagh book about how “unfair” Eragon and Nasuada were to Murtagh by railing at him and telling him to turn on Galbatorix in Inheritance. And I find that so shocking? what were they supposed to be doing, whispering “it’s ok sweetie, do your best alright we luv you :) uwu take your time honey”?? Dude has had his will broken and his mind enslaved by an evil mastermind, he’s full of rage and angst– shouldn’t they be trying to bring those emotions to the surface to help him break free? Also, Murtagh is not the kind of character that enjoys a pity party or is even vaguely comfortable with being vulnerable around others, including those he loves (on many levels), as a result of all those years of abuse and torture. I doubt it would’ve felt very compelling to him if his companions stayed silent or just offered platitudes and hollow encouragements– what should they have said, you got this, bro”?

Idk, I think that it’s interesting that as a fandom we can spend a lot of mental energy (and I mean a lot, 20 years of it over here on my end!!) bending over backwards being compassionate towards Broody McWarcrimes because he has been mind controlled and tortured within an inch of his life, but Goodboy Mainkid and Badass Queenieface try to get him out of his broody dark spiral of a brain for once and it’s like “oh my god, they’re so manipulative, they don’t even care”. Eragon had seen and done Some Shit and Nasuada was also a tortured mind control prisoner (by this guy!!), but for not being moody emo kids about their pain, the way Murtagh is, and compartmentalizing it differently than he does (too stoically, possibly), it’s like it erases their suffering for some people, and I think that’s an unfortunate reaction. If your traumatized friend was maybe the key to saving all your lives, wouldn’t you try to snap them out of their misery in any way you could, magic or no magic? Paolini says it himself multiple times in the new book - “Murtagh was feeling bad for himself again”. It’s the way a lot of us would cope with severely traumatic shit, I’m sure, brood and overthink and marinate in our pain. That doesn’t mean it’s compelling behavior for the people who are depending on you. I think Murtagh needed that needling, that boost from Nasuada and Eragon to get the ball rolling, or else he would not have been clear-headed enough to really think about his true name changing, because he would still have been stuck in the dark, sad spiral of the mind control, and it might have taken more time than they really had for him to get right with himself. They’re not chiding him and making light of his plight, they’re reminding him that he is even stronger than he knows and that they believe in him.

I love that little emo-boy blorbo, but he broods too much, and I think it’s ok for them to say it!

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sparklepirate · 2 years ago

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Alright, final thoughts on Inheritance.

;-;

Eragon continues to be the guy of all time. I love him. He really displayed a maturity in this book that I think supersedes anything we've seen of him in all the previous books, and just like... His strength really is that he is compassionate and thoughtful towards everyone. Even Murtagh, now, too. He had the realization of how close he was to sharing his fate, sought to understand him, and that was ultimately what led him to realizing his true name had changed, tearing down Galbatorix's wards, etc etc. I don't know that I could properly articulate everything about him here, but Eragon definitely became the hero he needed to be by the end of the series, 100%. He is the only person who could've possibly thought of the final piece of magic to defeat Galbatorix. Even the dreams of starlings are equal to the worries of a king. Ahhh, it's so good. ❤️ I'm so proud of him.

On the other hand, Barst was some bullshit. Bro. Like, on the one hand, it was a very good climactic battle for Roran to participate in, and his triumph was the perfect culmination of his character- cunning in battle, cunning in strategy, the intelligence and charisma to sway everyone around him into cooperating and working together, sheer determination so intensely strong that he was able to crush and Eldunarí with his bare hands. His role was perfect! But Barst as a villain was kinda... Well, first of all, he came completely the fuck out of nowhere. He wasn't mentioned at all until they were already on their way to Uru'baen, and then he was only MENTIONED. They didn't hype him up enough before the actual battle in my opinion. And ONE human and one Eldunarí being enough to beat the QUEEN OF THE ELVES in hand to hand combat...? I mean, I guess that could work but... Ehhh... I dunno. It kind of felt like an excuse for Islanzadí to die, and Roran to triumph more than anything. It was cool, but it was probably the weakest part of the plot in my opinion.

That said though I think it's pretty safe to say this was my favorite book of the series. I'm having trouble recalling all the iconic shit (I took a pretty long break from reading about halfway through the book) but there was soooo much cool stuff in here. The Nasuada being kidnapped and being helped by Murtagh arc is GOLD, Vroengard was amazing, and all the battles were SO well written??? I need to study these books more closely just to learn how to write compelling fight scenes. Honestly, it's gripping stuff. I was on the edge of my seat, despite knowing how everything turns out.

Nasuada is amazing, Arya is amazing, Saphira is amazing, Roran is amazing, MURTAGH is amazing... I think I already liked basically every character in this series going in, but I somehow like them even more now that I've read it again. Everyone is so good, and interesting, and I want to be everyone's friend. I think the only character I liked less this go around was Orrin (sorry to my Orrin stan friend out there). That said, though, I don't dislike him, I think I just went from positive to neutral about him.

Orrin honestly just didn't get nearly as much screen time as I remembered? We only see him a handful of times throughout the book and each time the only thing he's doing is getting drunk and making an ass of himself, though... Idk, he also has a point? He has his own unique point of view, and his own unique experiences that lead him to his own ideas of how to conduct things, and it is definitely kind of true that like no one ever really listens to him or takes him seriously, despite being the King of Surda for w while at that point. I don't think there was a more graceful solution to the division of power/territory after Galbatorix was killed than what was decided upon, because like... Realistically, Orrin was never gonna be high king. He had good reason to assert for the throne, sure, but actually ascending to the throne? That is SUCH a far reach for power, unless the aim was to assimilate Surda in and have all of the humans under one crown. Nah, Nasuada giving up territory and ascending to the throne was the better choice, even if I do empathize with Orrin's point of view. It seems like Nasuada did as well, because even though she was persistent, she seemed to be gentle and sympathetic with him. He even had his line about like... "Why do you even want to do this?" "None of you would understand." Idk. Very interesting, but not tremendously notable compared to others, and he definitely was a bit of an asshole at times.

Murtagh my beloved my BELOVED I'm honestly just gonna make a whole separate essay post about him because his shit is Complicated™️ but one little note it was such a small detail at the end but I love that he said to Eragon "Hey check in on Arya about killing Shruikan. It couldn't have been easy for an elf to kill a dragon." And Eragon hadn't even THOUGHT of that and Arya probably would've been the last thing on his mind but he still was just so thoughtful. He is thoughtful like his brother and he cares so deeply and AHHH!!! And actually I want to see him and Arya be buds. I think they would have a cool dynamic. And also I love that he never once hesitated to acknowledge Eragon as his brother and just wanted to be with him and finally Eragon also acknowledged him as a brother too that last scene with them was just so good 🥹

Also I love how Thorn's like only spoken line in the whole series (until November) is to boop Eragon on the forehead and say "Hi. Thank you for not killing my rider. :)" and Murtagh is just like "Yeah thanks for that. 😒"

Love how quick Saphira and Fírnen hit it off lol. They really played tag and wrestled for like five minutes and then were like "Alright we're gonna go fuck like now see y'all later ✌️" And Eragon's like "Is this??? Okay???" And Saphira's like "Pfft dragon's don't mate for life 🤷‍♀️" Their little romance was so cute.

CAN WE FUCKING TALK ABOUT QUEEN AND RIDER ARYA??? That shit is by FAR the wildest endgame decision Chris made because like. That. That's so fucking. Oh my god??? Like, one, poor Arya!! She just wanted to be a rider and have adventures! She probably would've either spent her time happy herrying eggs across Alegaësia, or she would've gone with Eragon to Mount Arngor, but you can NOT convince me that she would be particularly happy as queen. She's grieving the loss of her mother that she barely had a relationship with, and denied the other eleven leaders for a full week before they convinced her to do it!!! Girlie!!! You deserve to be happy!!! And, two, the obvious point of holy shit that is such an enormous power imbalance in favor of the elves. Like, there is a REASON the riders were separate in the first place!! And, you know, Galbatorix JUST died and now there is another rider/monarch and it's the ELVES who have historically been both the most powerful race, and the race with the best relationship with the dragons. And Arya is the ONLY RIDER LEFT IN ALEGAËSIA!!! Because Eragon is gone (and stubbornly convinced that He Shall Never Again Return Oh Woe Is Him) and Murtagh is... Also gone to an extent. He at the very least holds no political power. Basically everyone hates him, and those that don't can't do more than, like, pardon him, for whatever that's worth. I just can't see this not rubbing people the wrong way, and not coming to an eventual head. Nasuada and Arya are both great, but I just get the feeling there is going to eventually be some sort of conflict between them, no matter how much neither of them want it. I do think Arya is perhaps the least corruptible person, other than maybe Eragon but... I don't knowwww maaaan it's complicated!!

Also I regret to inform everyone that rereading the last little bit did make me ship Eragon and Arya a teensy tinsy itty little bit. Just a liiiiittle bit. Like idk the last fairth and the telling each other their true names and calling each other their true names and Eragon's grief at leaving and his vow to love her forever and her insinuation of maybe one day just got to me alright???

There were a lot of cool magic things in this book! Like the pocket space that the Eldunarí were kept in? Cuaroc's body? More shit that I'm forgetting? God I would just love, like, a magical encyclopedia or something idk. Lots of cool shit. And artifacts!! I want to learn about more magical artifacts.

Also at my Galbatorix stan mutual? I'm a certified Murtagh Girlie™️ and therefore obligated to hold a grudge but like. I do get it. He is a... Very competent villain.

Alright I think that's it for now but. Wow. Man oh man. There is a reason I love this series. I'll probably think of some more things to talk about later, and I'm gonna be participating in the Big Bang, and I'll probably post about The Fork, The Witch, and The Worm as I reread that but yeah!!! Can't wait for November!!

#can't WAIT for November!!!#ashna reads the inheritance cycle #inheritance cycle #eragon #inheritence #murtagh morzansson #saphira #murtagh thornsrider #nasuada #roran stronghammer

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alagaesia-headcanons · 2 years ago

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you know, we have only Oromis words to tell how was Morzan when he was a kid, how can we be sure that he doesn't' exaggerate? Morzan was a rebellious kid, who could be rude and maybe cruel? A lot of kids can be cruels, it's doesn't mean they're fully bad from the start. I just think that Morzan had need of a parental figure who would correct his attitude and would CARE for him, because it what Oromis should have been: a teacher AND a parental figure since the kid was 10 when he took him.

YES THIS I 100% agree with you!! Forgive me for the very long rant I’m about to go on because I have many thoughts about Morzan that I’ve wanted to get down for a long while now. I find it super interesting to interpret that he wasn’t entirely malicious or irredeemable from the outset.

I really, REALLY don’t like the old order of Riders. From all the things we learn about them, they had a seriously objectionable system. The way they took human kids when they were 10 years old and then left them to the discretion of people like Oromis is brazen evidence of that. I’m really intrigued by the possibility that at least one of the Forsworn joined Galbatorix to dismantle the Riders out of a genuine aversion to their abuse and a desire to put an end to it and build something better, not just from a personal lust for power.

Given the way Galbatorix talks to Oromis and Nasuada, I think he would have presented his intentions that way to distract from his real deranged vengefulness. It would have fascinating implications for any of the Forsworn to have truly fallen for that, and then as the consequences of their actions fully unfold and Galbatorix becomes an even worse tyrant, for that Forsworn to burn with regret and resentment and hatred towards him. It would make for such an interesting dynamic during the Empire’s reign. I just want one disloyal Forsworn who hates Galbatorix because they feel tricked and used, it’d be cool!!!

Admittedly, Morzan is the only one of the Forsworn we have any background for at all, so it doesn’t mean much to say he’s the best fit, but the backstory we do have can potentially line up with that role very well. Morzan was very young when he met Galbatorix, and thus inexperienced and impressionable. He spent more time with him and would have been exposed to a lot more of his manipulation. And I think he would have reason to be predisposed against the Riders before they met, a resentment Galbatorix could have fueled for his own benefit.

I’ve made it no secret how much I loathe Oromis. Tbh the fact that Morzan spent years training under him is a huge reason why I’m able to sympathize with him lmao. I would also start killing people. That man could have never given the necessary care and tolerance and emotional support to a ten year old, but it seems like the new Riders were entrusted entirely to their mentors. We see how horribly Oromis mistreats Eragon and how that affects him even when he’s sixteen- his callous neglect inflicted on ten year old children is a disaster waiting to happen, especially if any of those kids weren’t well cared for to begin with.

Also, this is slightly pedantic, but when Oromis is talking about Morzan, he specifically says that he “grew so proud and cruel,” which implies that this issue was less significant or not there at all when he first took Morzan. His harmful behaviors apparently developed over time which should be addressed and cared for by whoever’s raising him. Oromis is the only one in a position to raise him and he still turns a blind eye to Morzan.

In my headcanons, Morzan grew up impoverished and neglected. He doesn’t know what fair and caring treatment looks like and so he also can’t identify Oromis’s abuse, but its impact is compounding on an already present wound. Morzan is starving to make something of himself because no one has acknowledged and loved him for who he already is, which makes for a horribly volatile mixture with Oromis’s penchant for demanding his students prove themselves against an arbitrary and merciless standard. Morzan’s susceptibility to Oromis’s pressure makes him viciously desperate to prove himself, intensely competitive, and highly reactive to disapproval. It creates a perception of inadequacy that bleeds into everything Morzan does.

When he’s unpressured and at ease, Morzan’s nature is actually quite reserved, slow, passive, and methodical, but he is so, so easily incensed. Because he’s so fixated on proving himself, he assumes everyone initially holds a very low opinion of him and that’s what necessitates he fight for approval. He just can’t fathom receiving acceptance, respect, or care without proving he deserves it, and so he’s perpetually clawing for more. And falling short feels so devastating because he’s never been shown his worth beyond people’s expectations.

To me, that’s why he ends up attached to someone like Brom, who idolizes and defers to him. For Morzan, it would feel like his endless efforts to prove himself have actually proven something. Because he thinks he has to earn love, Brom’s affection would also feed into Morzan’s ego, providing a long desired vindication. The fact that Oromis trains both of them makes their relationship so much worse. I feel like his relatively positive relationship with Brom could have balanced out and helped Morzan adjust with time, but there’s an unfortunate competitive aspect at play. As Morzan scrambles for Oromis’s approval, now Brom is also being trained and the differences between them present another metric that could make Morzan seem lesser. So he puts Brom down and fights against him for their master’s care and validation like they’re limited commodities.

I think, over time, Morzan comes to recognize elements of Oromis’s abuse. He simply doesn’t have the energy to constantly struggle for his approval forever, and as that starts to run dry, it reveals some things. He resents that Oromis belittles his struggles and only values efforts that yield the results he wants, so he stops putting in the effort. If Morzan still doesn’t matter to him after trying so hard, why should he keep trying? He hates that Oromis can never give a true justification for the standards he demands they reach, and he starts ignoring them. He despises how he lies when says he cares for him and wants the best for him, because he prioritized his utility to the Riders over his well being in every moment since they met.

So, when he meets Galbatorix, Morzan is bitterly resentful and disillusioned. He joins him out of desire for revenge on Oromis and to tear down the system that abandoned him to his abuse. I do believe Morzan genuinely loved Brom in a certain way, despite his mistreatment, and he starts trying to incite him against Oromis not solely because of his own vindictiveness but also out of concern for Brom. As Galbatorix’s plans start to move, Morzan balks and begins seriously doubting him, even more so as the scope of slaughter unfolds, but he swallows his misgivings and stays determined to recruit Brom to the winning side. When one of the Forsworn kills the first Saphira despite Morzan’s insistence they be spared, he’s vehemently outraged. I think of Galbatorix’s disinterest in his uproar as the turning point in Morzan’s loyalty to him. As the Empire takes form, that disloyalty solidifies and Morzan hates Galbatorix for being even more cruel, manipulative, and uncaring than the people he wanted revenge on. Galbatorix tolerates it because forcing his vengeful resentment into subservience gratifies his sadistic impulse.

Now all of this is well within the realm of extrapolation and interpretation- none of these details directly suggest this version of Morzan’s character and motivations. They give the potential, but not real support, and they can just as easily be seen in any number of different ways. However, there is one single thing that actually grounds this in canon, which is that Morzan was a name-slave from very early on. When Eragon is telling Murtagh about the chance to change his true name and challenges his hesitation, Murtagh says, “[Galbatorix] has been creating name-slaves for over a hundred years, ever since he recruited our father.”

This detail fascinates me. There is the possibility that it’s a lie, but I can’t imagine Murtagh would make it up considering how much distaste he expresses towards his father. And I don’t think it would make sense for Galbatorix to lie to Murtagh about it either. If he didn’t actually have control over Morzan’s name then, claiming he did would discredit that real loyalty Morzan would have had to feel for him and his cause to do everything of his own free will. I think it’s the truth. Galbatorix learned Morzan’s true name more than a hundred years ago, before the fall, when he recruited him- which, to me, feels like before Morzan even helped him steal Shruikan’s egg.

Morzan either knew his true name already or Galbatorix went through his mind to find out, and the latter seems far more likely. Given the way Morzan’s described: young, arrogant, weak minded- I highly doubt he knew and the way Murtagh brings this up implies Galbatorix’s skill at uncovering names. Morzan either felt so loyal to Galbatorix at that point that he willingly let him in his mind, he was coerced into agreeing to it, or Galbatorix did it by force.

This still doesn’t mean Morzan wanted to dismantle the broken parts of the Riders instead of fully destroying them and that Galbatorix manipulated him into starting a war he found appalling- but it makes that idea much more feasible. If Morzan did realize Galbatorix’s intentions weren’t what he said and that he didn’t want to take things so far, he couldn’t back out. Any reluctance or disagreement would have been overridden and things would unfold exactly how they did.

I think Morzan was wounded and angry and starving for true respect and care that lured him to Galbatorix, and the precarious pride he clung to made him look away from the severity of Galbatorix’s actions. Then he realized his desperation was preyed upon only when it was far too late.

#eragon #inheritance cycle #morzan #oromis #galbatorix #brom #answered ask #anon im sorry i think this might have been more than you bargained for lmao #im a little insane about this #but this concept captivated me and i wont let go of it now #also im quite tempted to write a fic of young morzan and brom. i have scenes in my brain

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umunschaas · 5 months ago

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Hi!!

Do you have any favourite moments/scenes from the Inheritance cycle?

Oh! That's a difficult question since I likely forgot quite a few. Been a few months since I skim-read it xD But;

The one in the first book where Eragon exhausts himself with magic use and Murtagh cooks for him. Best big bro. Also the scene where Murtagh yells at Eragon that he's so pathetic that he has no choice but to help him :'D Mean big bro.

The twins being scolded by Arya. And them being killed by Roran, while Murtagh is watching. They deserve it.

Saphira and her lost scale. She's so vain and it's such a perfect flaw for her. Also the Dras Leona chapter from Saphira's view; it was just a nice show on how dragons actually don't care much about strangers and mainly about their riders and their closest. Like Saphira went to destroy houses just to show off. (Not a fan tho of where she buries poor Thorn in the cathedral... I mean i get why, but.. poor bean ;_; )

Glaedr telling Saphira to warm the stone so Eragon doesn't get a cold butt. Just funny and sweet.

Galbatorix. Pretty much all the few scenes with him because he's smugness on two legs and he has the brain to back it up and through it all his madness leaks through. Also I stand by my point that Nasuada's description made him appear very hugable (one would likely get chopped to bits, but perhaps it's worth it).

There's probably more, but this is all I can think of on the spot atm ^^"

#thank you so much for the ask :3 #I appreciate it a lot!!!!#inheritance cycle #murtagh #eragon

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saphira-approves · 1 year ago

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Can I come and tell you my deepest pain?

We should have had Morzan alive. I mean yeah, it would fuck up the whole narrative but imagine Murtagh being afraid of his father. He hates the king but fears his father.

Imagine him and Thorn; Morzan sees them, and he has problems with booze in canon, just how drunk he'd have gotten after Thorn learned to talk? There he is with his nameless dragon, half of his heart and soul, that he had to watch descend into stupidity. (Does he have its name written up here and there, does he watch it every day just to think about how he could make it real again?) Would he dream of killing his son and taking his dragon to himself? Would he want that even though he despises that sick joke of a connection that is in between Galbatorix and Shruikan?

And then Galbatorix finally discovers the name of the names. How would he beg for the king to use it to heal his companion?

Also, it would be very funny to watch our main characters run for their lives with an angry dragon after them, but y'know.

Should I write a fic about this

Oh you absolutely should write a fic about this (and let me know when you do! I’d love to read it!), and I should go back through my WIPs to find my time travel AUs…

I usually write more about Selena than Morzan, but I do love the idea of getting to see grown-up Murtagh’s reaction to seeing his father, especially in a context where Murtagh has lived without him for a while—whether that’s because Brom didn’t kill Morzan and Selena got both her sons to Carvahall, or because resurrection or time travel shenanigans happened.

As for Morzan still being around when Murtagh gets captured… I think there’s a 50/50 chance he gets Real Weird about the torture, in a “I was pretty sure up to this point that I didn’t actually care about my son but now my best friend is torturing My Son and I don’t like it actually” way, and I think that would be really fun to explore; I think, also, that when Thorn hatches and Galbatorix prematurely increases his size, Morzan would again be Real Weird about it because, like, that’s a baby dragon the size of an adult. He hasn’t lost his name, he just hasn’t really developed one yet; he’s a weird, warped mirror of Morzan’s own dragon. And when Thorn does, eventually, with difficulty, start to ‘grow up’, Morzan’s probably going to get twitchy about it—it’s been at least a century, more than two thirds of his lifespan, since he’s even MET a somewhat psychologically stable dragon; how much has he forgotten of their true intelligence, their real personalities? And when Galbatorix does find The Word, if Morzan asks him to heal his own dragon… honestly I don’t know if Galbatorix would be able to. Having power and knowing how to use it are two different things, we saw Murtagh figure that out in his own book with The Word. Would the king even know where to start? Would he allow Morzan to try for himself? Morzan probably wouldn’t have a clue where to begin, all we ever hear about him from people who’d met him is that he’s a powerful spellcaster, but not a very clever one.

Honestly, the whole situation might drive Morzan to split from Galbatorix; and even if not, it would still probably drive Morzan to be extremely destructive, to himself and everyone around him.

Also he’d be so pissed to learn about Eragon’s true parentage. Not even in a “my wife cheated on me?!” way but in a “oh my god can Brom stop being SO OBSESSED with me for FIVE MINUTES” kind of way.

#thanks for the ask anon!#inheritance cycle #morzan (inheritance cycle)#murtagh (inheritance cycle)#selena (inheritance cycle)#brom (inheritance cycle)#galbatorix (inheritance cycle)#eragon shadeslayer #saph speaks #also i have a personal headcanon about morzan’s dragon’s name that would be PAINFULLY ironic in this context #hnnn im having. So many ideas now about this actually #if morzan gets to live than tornac does too that’s just the rules #again morzan would be So Weird about him #‘what do you mean you found a Better father figure. im literally your father and im the hottest shit ever. hello??’#‘i am Literally the king’s best friend what more could you ask for in a father figure. that guy’s the staff!!!!’#murtagh: well for one thing he’s never thrown a sword at me #morzan: pffft. okay. yeah. whatever. sure. he’s still the staff.

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murtagh-thorn · 15 days ago

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Dark Legacies Part IV: A Dangerous Dance

Pairing: eventual Murtagh x Fem!Rider!Reader Summary: Your lessons with Murtagh and Thorn begin - although concentrating is more difficult than you anticipated. Warnings: canon typical violence, dueling, sparring. A/N: thank you to @0blkm for the sword name suggestion and @writinginatree for the Selena teaching Murtagh to love storms suggestion!

This is a series of one shots and drabbles that all take place in the same universe, about six years after the events of Inheritance. They'll be listed in chronological order in my Dark Legacies masterlist. There is a timekeeping system at the top of each fic/page break with "Ground Zero/Year 0" being the year of Gormlaith's birth, again about six years after the events of Inheritance, and going up from there.

PSA: Gormlaith is an Irish name (meaning “illustrious princess”) pronounced GORM-lah.

Comments, reblogs, and kudos are greatly appreciated. Enjoy!

***

Year 1

Gormlaith roared half-heartedly beneath you as the pair of you crested the mountain just enough to see Thorn and Murtagh sitting near the edge. Normally, the flat shelf high in the clouds was where you met Eragon and Saphira for your daily one-on-one lessons, but he’d decided to delegate three days a week to his brother instead.

Murtagh sat within Thorn’s curled up torso. He stood and took a few steps closer to the edge just as his dragon lifted his head to trill back. Your heart skipped a beat as you drew closer and could make out his features more clearly.

Gormlaith landed in a whoosh of wind and ground-shaking impact that made Murtagh stumble slightly. Thorn growled out a chuckle behind him and you didn’t doubt he was teasing his Rider.

“Sorry,” you said as you pulled the saddle’s lever and undid the buckles around your legs and waist. “She’s a bit, uh…” you gently patted her shoulder, unsure what word to use.

Magnificent? Gormlaith suggested. Incredible? Awe-inspiring?

“Colossal?” Murtagh suggested.

Eh, I’ll take it.

You laughed. “Might be a bit of an understatement.” Your dragon lowered her belly to the ground, sliding out a leg so you could climb down onto her knee, then hop to the ground. You made your way over to your teacher for the day, sliding your hands in your pockets and playing with your coin. “So…was there something you wanted to start with?”

The breeze blew Murtagh’s dark hair in front of his eyes as he gave you a bit of a nervous laugh and looked down at his shoes. You felt your stomach somersault and chewed on your lip to avoid making an embarrassingly starstruck expression. You felt your dragon’s amusement in your mind as she walked towards Thorn and shot her a quick glare.

“I’ve never really taught anyone before,” he continued. “I’m sure I have just as much to learn from you, to be honest. But I was thinking maybe we could start with some sparring? You held your own well against the masked men, but given your situation, I think it would be crucial to have a backup form of defense that isn’t just magic. So, I’d like to see where you’re at if that’s all right.”

You nodded, swinging your scabbard’s strap over your head before drawing the black blade. “Sounds good.” You took two long knives that were also strapped to your outer thighs and laid them on the ground next to the abandoned sheath.

Murtagh returned to Thorn’s side and drew Zar’roc from its own sheath, running his hand over the blade and murmuring a few words in the Ancient Language. “Has anyone taught you this spell yet? It’s to dull the edges so swords are safe to spar with.”

You shook your head. “Eragon and I focused mainly on the elves’ teachings and less on combat. All other sparring I’ve done is with sticks or wooden swords.”

Murtagh nodded towards your blade. “Gëuloth du knífr—it means ‘dull the knife.’”

You repeated the phrase to make sure your pronunciation was right and when he nodded, let your hand hover over your own sword, saying the words once more. You bounced it roughly against your palm and when no harm came to you, made a light slashing motion against your skin. When no visible cut formed, you let the sword fall to your side and rolled out your shoulders and cracked your neck.

Murtagh swung his arms in front of himself to similarly loosen up. “What’s your blade’s name, by the way?”

“Blakkröt.”

He nodded approvingly, glancing at the dragons where they conversed several yards away. “Black Dread.”

You smiled. Somehow dread and misery felt like a fitting combination. Sometimes, you felt unsure about the name choice, but it had felt right in the moment and now you were stuck with it.

“Most students don’t get their Riders’ blades until they’re only a year away from graduating. Has Eragon decided you’ll get to graduate next year already?”

“No,” you continued to stretch, “but with everything going on with the masked men—and especially with the last incident with Edgar—he decided it would be a good idea for me to have it.”

Murtagh frowned. “Edgar? I thought the last time you had dealings with Edgar was back when the two of you were in the sparring arena several months ago?”

You shook your head. “He was in the Egg Delegation that left me just a week ago.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Eragon assigned the two of you to a delegation together?”

You grimaced. “I think he was hoping it would help end whatever vendetta he has against me, but, um…clearly it didn’t, so…” You shrugged. “He and Gydrim have been suspended from classes for long enough that it will set back their graduation from what I hear. I think Eragon’s got him on snaglí cleaning field duty or something equally unpleasant.”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “All right, then.”

I wonder if I’m going to be a topic of conversation between him and Eragon later, you thought.

Thorn has made it sound as if he’s interceded on your behalf many times now, Gormlaith replied. The two of them apparently led the efforts to find us during those first six months frequently and were disappointed they couldn’t be here for our arrival.

You tried not to let your elation show as Murtagh took a fighting stance.

“Ready?”

You steeled yourself. “Ready.”

He eyed you up and down when you didn’t immediately strike, then moved quickly to swipe at your leg. You moved to block him but before he could hit your shin, the red sword shot up toward your arm at the last second. You quickly ducked underneath his high swing, bringing Blakkröt around to tap the back of his calf. You missed, however, as he quickly stepped out of the way and your blade embedded in the dirt.

You took a few steps back as he began to circle you, his storm-grey eyes focused like a hawk on its prey. You resisted the urge to shudder and couldn’t help thinking of other reasons he might be looking at you like that. He was dressed in a thin, black linen shirt with a v neckline that showed off the top of his muscular chest, his sleeves pushed up to his elbows. His large hands gripped Zar’roc’s pommel and thick veins ran up his forearms. His dark hair was in slight disarray from the fight and you swallowed hard as your heart thumped harder—and not from the physical exertion.

You nearly missed it when he lunged at you again, just stepping out of the way as Zar’roc’s tip grazed your shirt. Concentrate. You managed to bring your own sword up towards the back of his neck before he’d finished moving out of the way, but he whipped his sword behind him to stop you just inches away from his skin. You wrapped the front of your boot around his leg, pulling and sending him tumbling to the ground with an oof!

You scampered back as he regained his feet, worrying for a moment you’d gone too far. But he merely smiled as he regained his breath and turned to look at you. “Oh, you fight dirty.”

You chuckled nervously. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s a good thing if you’re against an enemy—be as resourceful as you can, always.”

“Gormlaith’s always said you only need a few good openings.”

“And she’s right.” He swung at you again and this time, you fell flat on your back trying to avoid the blow. “But don’t leave yourself open either.”

You rolled out of the way just as Zar’roc came whizzing towards your throat, scrambling back up just in time to block another blow.

The two of you continued in this fashion for a long while, both of you either blocking or evading blows at the last minute. You were quite evenly matched and as the session went on, you could tell Murtagh was putting more and more of his strength into it. You matched his energy, wondering if he’d started out easy on you on purpose. It was difficult for you to gain any ground with him. Although you parried most of his blows and threw him off balance several times, he was just as skilled as you and it seemed neither of you could get through the other’s defenses. The sparring session began to feel like a dangerous dance on the cliff face as your dragons watched nearby. There were several times you and Murtagh were practically nose to nose, his breath ragged, hair in his eyes, and his face a mixture of resolve and awe before you were exchanging blows again. The red and black blades crashing against each other reminded you of fire and smoke—two elements that rarely existed without the presence of the other, not unlike misery and dread.

Just as you were beginning to wear out, one of Murtagh’s blows swung too far sideways, leaving his chest wide open. You lunged and slammed your body into his, climbing on top of him and aiming the tip of your sword against his chest. Before the blade could make contact with his shirt, he grabbed your waist and flipped you over, using Zar’roc’s hilt to knock Blakkröt out of your hand and held the red blade just above your throat.

You panted and openly stared as he caught his own breath above you.

He huffed out a smile. “Very well done.” You could feel the adrenaline coming off him in waves and his eyes sparkled from the thrill of the fight—along with something else that seemed much more timid that you couldn’t identify. He let Zar’roc fall to the side, but continued to stare for a moment, sweat beading his brow as he caught his own breath. His zest faded to be replaced by something that felt much more concerned and attentive. As he climbed off you, you thought you caught a slight pink tint to his cheeks.

You sat up, glancing at him where he sat a few feet away, propping his arm up on his knee as he pulled his shirt sleeve down to wipe his forehead. “Well done? I lost.”

He ran a hand through his hair to push it up and out of his face and you did your best not to audibly gulp.

Try not to combust, Gormlaith teased.

I’m not combusting. You took a deep breath as he pulled his shirt sleeve up this elbow to reveal the veins again.

Oh-ho-ho, someone has it bad.

Do shut up.

Gormlaith growled out a laugh from her spot in the audience, causing Murtagh to glance back at her.

Thorn better not be picking any of this up to relay to Murtagh, you warned.

My lips are sealed—aren’t they, Thorn?

WHAT—

I joke, I joke.

“You really did do well, despite losing. It took me a while to gain the upper hand, and even then, it was more a matter of luck in the end. I could only flip you over because I outsize you.” He stood, holding out a hand to help you up.

You let him pull you to your feet, regretting the loss of contact as you pulled away. “I suppose I am used to fighting people that aren’t any bigger than me. I didn’t think about the logistics of that move on someone bigger.”

He nodded. “A good thing to keep in mind for the future.” He gently brushed some stray grass off the upper arms of your tunic, going a bit red as he realized what he was doing. “Sorry.”

“Oh, um, it’s fine.”

You both smiled awkwardly before looking elsewhere. You could sense that if she could, Gormlaith would’ve been face-palming hard.

“So, um,” Murtagh cleared his throat and regained his composure, “I think a good thing to focus on would be learning how to fight enemies larger than you. That’s something that will come in handy no matter your situation, especially after you graduate and go out around Alagaësia more.” He brought Zar’roc up over his head as if to rain a blow down on you from above. “I noticed in your sparring session with Edgar that you started with your sword up like this and let gravity do the rest of the work. I think that’s a good strategy you should employ more often—especially if you ever need to fight an Urgal or Kull.” He brought his sword back down to his side. “Was there anywhere specific you learned that?”

“My stepbrother taught me how to swordfight for a while before he was carted off to join Galbatorix’s army when I was young. He said it was called the ‘Guard of the Hawk.’”

He nodded. “My mentor, Tornac, taught that to me as well. I think that move will be very helpful to you.” He paused and stared at you quizzically, but said nothing more.

Sensing what he wanted to ask, you replied, “No…he did not survive.”

Murtagh’s grip on his sword tightened. “I’m so sorry.”

You nodded, picking up Blakkröt’s scabbard and sheathing the sword. Your oldest stepbrother hadn’t been around much, but when he was, he did at least try to shield you from your stepmother’s cruelty. Not that your biological mother had been much better, from what you could remember. Your mother’s lover had been completely complacent and turned the other cheek to everything.

Murtagh sheathed Zar’roc, patting Thorn before turning back to you. “Thorn would like to take Gormlaith a ways out and maybe discuss some combat maneuvers, if that’s all right.”

“Of course, as long as she agrees.”

Oh, I do, she said to you privately.

Who has it bad now?

I, at least, know enough to keep from swooning.

Oh, whatever. Just get out of here.

She snorted in amusement before walking over and gently bumping the tip of her nose against your shoulder. You rubbed her jaw and she hummed in content before preparing herself to take flight. You took several steps back and watched her powerful shoulders roll (a habit she picked up from you, no doubt; you still remembered the first time she watched you do that as a hatchling and immediately started copying you) before her wings extended into the sky like black storm clouds. She beat them towards the ground and soared into the air, her and Thorn’s combined wing strokes flattening the grass and cooling the sweat from your skin.

“I was thinking,” Murtagh began, “since we have a few hours left, we could either work on some of the elves’ exercises—”

You let your head fall back and groaned, thinking back to your last lesson with Eragon where you’d failed miserably at many of those.

“—or work on some magic.”

“That one. Please, that one.”

Murtagh chuckled and the sound felt as if it went straight into your abdomen as you smiled back at him. “You can’t avoid the elves’ poses and exercises forever, you know.”

“I can try.”

“Well, you’re still with Eragon two days of the week, so I doubt it.”

“Ugh.”

“Oh, come now, it can’t be that bad.”

You glanced up as thunder boomed in the distance. You hadn’t even realized how grey the sky had become. “Has he ever made you do the Rimgar?”

“Well, no.”

“It’s torture.”

He laughed again. “I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it.”

You shook your head. “I’m going to make you do it with me next session so you can feel my pain.”

You felt a small drop land on your forehead as Murtagh smiled. “I’ll look forward to it then. Looks like some rain is starting.”

Your head ached where you had your hair piled on top of your head, and you rubbed at it before deciding to abandon the hair tie completely. “There’s a cave just behind you that’s large enough for both our dragons and us. Eragon and I usually take shelter there during bad weather.” You pulled the tie out of your hair, sticking your fingers in through your roots to shake it out and closed your eyes at the sensation.

Murtagh cleared his throat hard. “Um, yes, let’s retreat to the cascade—cave, the cave.”

You opened your eyes and frowned, but he already had his back to you. He grabbed Zar’roc and his pack and walked quickly toward the cave.

Are you two coming back soon? you asked your dragon. It’s starting to rain.

We’re on our way, she replied.

As you re-strapped your long knives and Blakkröt to you, the sprinkles suddenly picked up to become a deluge. Murtagh was at your side in an instant, holding his cloak over both of you like an umbrella as the pair of you ran into the shelter of the cave.

“What is it with us and getting caught in floodgates?” you teased.

He grinned as he neatly folded his cloak and set it on the ground, sitting down a few inches next to it. “Just our luck, I guess.” He patted his cloak and looked at you expectantly.

“Don’t you want to sit on it? It’s your cloak.”

He shook his head. “No, I put it there for you.”

“Oh, um, thank you.” You avoided his eyes as you settled on the garment. When you glanced back up, you found him contentedly watching the thunderstorm outside. You let your own gaze linger for a moment, enjoying the sound of the rain as it pattered against the ground and cave opening, thunder occasionally echoing in the distance. “This may sound odd, but…this is actually one of my favorite types of weather.”

Murtagh looked at you in pleased surprise. “Mine too, actually.” He paused, looking at the falling sheets of rain again. “I actually used to be terrified of storms as a child, but then…someone very special to me taught me not to fear them. That person loved them, too, and then I grew to love them as well.”

You shifted, playing with your fingers. “If you don’t mind me asking…was it your mentor you mentioned earlier, Tornac?”

He paused, meeting your eyes and seeming to weigh his options. “No, although Tornac had a fondness for them as well. But it was actually my mother. I didn’t get to know her very long before she passed.” He looked back out the cave mouth, his gaze much more somber than before. You couldn’t help but notice how the shade of his eyes perfectly matched the sky and found the color oddly comforting.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right,” he said quietly. After a pause, he continued, “I feel as if all of my favorite people actually loved storms now that I think about it.”

“They’re underrated.”

“They are.” He turned to you with a soft smile. “So…” He sat up straighter and squared his shoulders. “Eragon tells me you’re quite advanced in magic, particularly wordless magic. I’m sure he’s already lectured you about how dangerous it can be.”

You nodded. “I know. It was how I learned, so it’s still a bit of a habit, but I am trying to get better about the Ancient Language.”

“Eragon tells me you aren’t quite fluent, but can hold complicated conversations with the elves?”

“Yes. Eragon and I left off actually talking about converting some of the spells I frequently use from wordless to using words in the Ancient Language.”

“What sort of spells?”

“There were a few that Gormlaith and I sort of improvised together during our first six months.”

“Well, I’m not as fluent as Eragon,” he reached into his pack and pulled out a small book, “but in my travels, I did happen upon this Ancient Language dictionary. We could try to find the words together, if you’d like?”

You nodded just as both dragons returned to the ledge. They quickly trotted into the cave mouth and just as they began to move to shake the water off, Murtagh held his hand out in front of you. “Skölir nosu fra adurna!”

As both beasts shook themselves out, the large water droplets flew and stopped mere inches from you before sliding down to the floor. As Murtagh lowered his hand, you grumbled, “I’ll have to remember that one—because someone loves to give me a second bath every time it rains.”

Shall I stay soaked? Gormlaith asked so that everyone could hear. As Leonil says, I may get the puh-nuh-monia.

You gave Murtagh an annoyed look. “Yes, because it’s so much better if I get the puh-nuh-monia.”

Murtagh laughed before opening his dictionary. “So, tell me about these spells of yours.”

“The one Eragon and I last left off on we nicknamed ‘shadowstep.’ It involves making a portal within a shadow that leads to another shadow in the room. I’ll show you.”

You stood and made your way deeper into the cave, finding a shadowy corner. A small, equally dark alcove lay in the wall behind Murtagh. You had come up with the idea for the spell before Gormlaith hatched, but had never tested it until she came along. You’d gotten quite fast at executing it, so it only took you mere moments to do now. You looked at the shadow in front of you and, in your mind’s eye, pictured a door opening and leading to the alcove. You waved your hand and stepped into the shadow and through. In the blink of an eye, you were in the alcove behind Murtagh’s back.

He continued to sit with his back to you, leaning forward to get a better look at the corner you disappeared to. “What…” he started to mumble.

“Hi,” you said from behind him.

He jumped and dropped the dictionary, turning around to stare at you with wide eyes. He looked back at the original corner, then at you again. “You have to teach me that.”

You explained your process and after, he scampered up to join you in the alcove. “Are you sure you wouldn’t want to try it on your own or with someone you’re closer with first? Eragon knows how to do this as well.”

He frowned. “Why would I need to try it on my own?”

“Well, um…the results can be a bit embarrassing the first few tries.” You glanced at Gormlaith. “The first time Eragon tried it, he came through the second shadow without his eyebrows, and they were still floating by the first shadow.”

Murtagh threw his head back and laughed so loudly, it echoed throughout the cave. “Oh, I’m so disappointed I missed that.”

“You should’ve heard Saphira—I thought she was going to wet herself laughing. She had to leave the cave to recover…So, you’re welcome to try it if you’re all right with me potentially seeing you eyebrow-less, bald, or missing any number of features.”

Murtagh pursed his lips. “I’m just going to sit back down.”

You smiled and nodded. “That’s probably for the best.”

“Dare I ask what you were missing the first time you tried it?” he said as he settled back onto his position on the floor, taking a sip out of his waterskin.

Her pants, Gormlaith responded before you could intercede.

Murtagh nearly spat out his water.

You reached out towards Gormlaith, poking her with a finger and delivering a light electric shock to her shoulder. She yelped and quickly moved out of the way as Thorn pressed himself against the wall, projecting his own amusement into your mind as well.

Murtagh laughed so hard that he was hardly even making any noise aside from a few wheezes. “I-I’m sorry, it’s—”

You couldn’t help your own laugh from escaping, trying desperately to straighten your face. “ANYWAY.”

Murtagh doubled over before straightening himself with a defeated little oh. You laughed back and shook your head, having to remind yourself to breathe as he flashed his brilliant smile at you. He wiped at his eye with a finger before beginning to thumb through the dictionary in front of him, patting his cloak once more for you to sit.

You did as bade, leaning closer as he summoned a werelight to better read the text. You tried not to hold your breath at his proximity as the two of you discussed several words that could work.

“The part I keep getting stuck on,” you said, “is something along the lines of ‘step through this shadow to that shadow’ could work, but then if there are multiple shadows in the room, you have to name which exact shadow. Which feels like it would make for a very long, complicated sentence.”

“Not necessarily. I assume with your knowledge of wordless magic, you understand intent is very important. As long as you have the exact shadow you want in your mind’s eye, that part might not be necessary.”

You continued to parse through his dictionary together, nearly at a string of words that could work.

I hate to interrupt, Thorn said so you could hear. It was the first time he had reached into your mind and you felt privileged to be chosen. The feel of his mind reminded you of Gormlaith’s, but also felt much deeper, darker, and less trusting in the way a dragon far older than him who had survived a life of torment would. You imagined that wasn’t far from the truth and sent a subtle wave of comfort out to him. He paused and regarded you in surprise before returning such a small wave of gratitude, you might’ve missed it if you hadn’t been looking for it. It’s half past noon, if you wanted to break for food before your afternoon classes, Y/N.

You glanced up at the cave opening to see the sky had grown lighter, although a steady drizzle remained.

Murtagh closed the dictionary. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you so late. We should’ve ended a half hour ago.”

“It’s all right, this was—” you had almost said fun, but that likely would’ve sounded odd; but it had been four hours and hardly felt like two, “helpful. Thank you.”

Murtagh stood, again helping you to your feet before taking his cloak off the ground and shaking the dust off it. He gave you a small, crooked smile that had your heart pounding so hard, you wondered if Thorn could also hear it. “It was…I suppose I’ll see you in two days?”

You nodded, scrambling for something else to say just to spend even a few more minutes with him. “You’ll tell me if there are any updates on the masked men and why they were hunting us?”

“Of course. I can always come get you or have someone else fetch you to come to Eragon’s office so I can tell you together.”

You nodded, hesitating before realizing there were no other topics to discuss and making your way over to Gormlaith. As you hauled yourself up onto her foreleg, Murtagh called your name. You turned to see him walking toward you, his cloak still in his hand.

“Do you have a cloak for the rain?”

“Um…” You dug in Gormlaith’s saddlebag for a moment. “No, but it’s not raining hard and Gormlaith is fast. I’ll be all right.”

He held his cloak up to you. “Please take this.”

“Really, it’s no trouble—”

“I insist.”

You hesitantly took the cloak in your hand. “But what about you?”

“Thorn and I have nothing time-sensitive to do today. We don’t mind waiting it out.”

“But—”

He smiled, pressing the fabric further into your hands. “Y/N, I insist. You can always give it back to me Wednesday. Or give it to Eragon today or tomorrow and he’ll find me.”

You climbed the rest of the way into Gormlaith’s saddle before wrapping the cloak around yourself. You clasped it up by your neck and drew the hood. It smelled distinctly of pine, a very faint smell of dragon, and something else you couldn’t name but felt very him. “Thank you—I promise I’ll get it back to you.”

He gave you a warm smile and nod as Gormlaith made her way out into the rain and took off. As you flew back toward the mess hall, she said, I think someone likes you.

You hesitated. I hope so. They’ve both been through so much, I’m sure it takes a while for either of them to trust someone enough to call them friend, let alone any potential romantic feelings.

Well, lucky for us, we’ve got all the time in the world.

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

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