#learned it than eragon did

[concha-del-mar]

Things that I think will happen or want to happen in Murtagh.

As much as I want him too, I don’t think he’ll visit Eragon. However, I do think he’ll see or run into Roran. They’ve never interacted and I think they should. Same with Arya, they were friendly before, i want to see how the dynamic changed.

Nasuada. There’s gonna be so many mentions of her, and they’re probably gonna visit her too. Hopefully they address her whole “wanting to keep magic under lock and key” thing. Love her but that is not it. And, maybe they get to just exist together without the feeling of impending doom?

Unfortunately the Inheritance Cycle did end with me not learning what Angela’s deal is and she better make an appearance to make up for it. She’s too enigmatic not too. I also think we’ll get just a tad bit of her lore too. Maybe some more glimpses of the nomads and Angela’s master that Eragon ran into?

I’m really hoping that it touches on the fact that the Dwarves and Urgals have been added as riders.

Other than that, I think he’s just gonna do around as an independent rider and deal with politics and society of post-war Alagaesia.

[relto]

"ohh i will finish the vocab real quick so i can read" wrong. i will do all the vocab (not quick) and then not read.

[seeker-ophelia]

Ophelia’s Review, Part Two: Thedas, The Dragon Age System

Some things I need to get off my chest.

One. This does not feel like a Dragon Age game.

Two. That doesn’t mean I didn’t like it.

Three. I have a lot of feelings right now but I’ll come back when my brain has re-hydrated itself.

(I finished Veilguard at 10PM on Monday, and wrote this the morning after. And its still true, 5 days later.)

TLDR at the bottom

[Read Part 1 Here]

I do miss the heady blend of power, intrigue, danger, and sex that permeates these events games.

[Photo Cred: Dumped, Drunk & Dalish]

Because Veilguard is missing all of that.

Listen, it’s good. Great even. I loved it. Cried. Laughed. Dropped my controller and paced around the room for 5 minutes in anger and angst. Drank a bottle of wine in the bathtub after Solavellan’s happy ending (and my Rooks sad one). But this is not a Dragon Age game.

It is Dragon Age ADJACENT. Similar of course. The backbone is there. The direction, the vector, is there. But the execution…

Dragon Age (Origins through Inquisition) for me, was A Song of Ice and Fire. I love that series.

It was deep. It was harsh. It was MEAN. If offered me hope and then snatched it away. The world-building, the lore crafting, was intense and deep and required attention and critical thought. The characters were nuanced and troubled and real.

Veilguard, for me, is Eragon.

I also loved that series. It is pure and good and takes me on a journey through a fantastical land of dragons and heroes, of good versus evil, of mysteries and magic. But, it is juvenile. Its simple. It doesn’t try to be anything other than it is. Veilguard, is shallow.

The essence is there, beneath the surface Veil, pressing and bursting at the seams to escape, but is being held back by a gentrification of Thedas, the Tranquility of the Dragon Age world, if you would.

The Lore

I don’t want to go into to much about it (its going to be its own post, I think), but I love the lore of Dragon Age. I love learning about it. I love the questions, the pervasive theme that history is only as true as the historians who write it; things get lost, muddled, confused through and over time. And Veilguard, kind of feels like I’m being spoonfed? Like I’m a baby.

I think EA did BioWare a disservice by making this game for new players, instead of assuming that RPG players have the intelligence and wherewithal to comprehend at least a little bit of lore and history, or at the very least, introduce a cannon world state. You can have your cake and eat it to, but, as Veilguard shows, it diminishes the quality of the cake as a whole.

This game is an Action RPG. This is a game about combat. For the record, the first, second, third, 17th time I saw my Rook in their Takedown Animation, I said, out loud, ‘Dragon Age, G.O.T.Y.’ I swore at my inability to time dodges properly, I planned and schemed with primers and detonators and damage types. This is very reminiscent of The Witcher and Assassins Creed, for me (I have not played a ton of games, im sure there are others more like it). It was fun, it was challenging. But. This is not Dragon Age. Its Something Else™.

Dragon Age: Dark Origins

When people say Dragon Age is a dark game, they’re not talking about the gameplay, or the graphics, or the art direction.

Dragon Age deals with dark subject matter. Slavery. Racism. Religion. Politics. Power dynamics. Mages versus Templars. Addiction. Death. War. An unstoppable contagion that deals death indiscriminately. THAT’S what makes Dragon Age Dark.

These stories are deep. They’re hard. And yeah, they weren’t always handled properly (lookin’ at you, Gaider), but doing something wrong… looks like it might actually be better than pretending it doesn’t exist.

As a Sollavellan, I’m unspeakably glad they didn’t yassify Solas. He is still an unlikable character who has committed unspeakable war crimes. And we got a redemption arc that did not end in death. That’s a win for me.

But they kept his darkness at the expense of lightening literally EVERYTHING ELSE in Thedas.

What the fuck happened to Zevran’s Crows? I got the Puss-in-Boots-Found-Family Assassin Agency.

Where are the slaves in Minrathous? Where’s the trip to the upper city, gilded and clean, so we can compare it to the slums of Dock Town (which was not bad at all). Where is the “Rescue the Rabbits” Quest? Tevene Politics boils down to Dorian or Mave, “bad” or “good,” change from within, or power to the people.

The whole Qunari are just Bad™ now? The Antaam warriors turned into… what the fuck is even that? You know the advertising theory where women’s bodies are shown but not their heads or faces? This feels like that. Giant Grey Muscular Powerful Bodies with NoFace. THAT’S the Antaam? The Tamassrins really eliminate every embodiment of individuality from them? They’re just Storm Troopers?

And ‘Thal’enaste, what a lost plot thread to not have Lace and Solas meet in the deep roads, or Kal-Sharok, or fucking anywhere. Instead, you give her one little blurb of “companion banter.” Weak.

Where’s the racism towards the Elves? What happened to that? What happened to Dark Thedas? Oh, its actually all in the South, and thats destroyed now (lets put a pin in that for a minute).

The Companions

I have written and re-written this section 3 times. Its too long. I don’t need to mention them all. How to summarize them.

If you read my part 1, you’ll remember how I fell in love with Dragon Age 2, years after its release (after playing Inquisition, in fact), and how I fucking hard I fell for those very real, very troubled, very nuanced characters.

Anders and his quest for freedom, Fenris and his quest for vengeance. Merrill and her quest for knowledge, Isabella and her quest for… other cultures relics, I guess?

I hated the graphics in 2. It was the characters that carried that game. I don’t know how BioWare wrote them, but they failed to do that in VG.

My favourite character in Inquisition? Surprisingly, its not Solas. Its not even Cole, or the Iron Bull, or Dorian.

Its Cassandra.

I love her. Her story is SO complex. Her devotion to the Seekers, to the Andrastian Faith, is so pure, yet it does not impede her friendship with a Dalish elf who believes in gods that she does not. It does not stop her form forming close bonds with other people from different backgrounds, and although she is fearless in calling out the darkness in her own faith, its sins and its rot, she admits to her Herald that she is envious of the Heralds conviction.

Which character in Veilguard has that nuance?

The necromancer afraid of death? The Elvhen Engineer with ADHD? The literal Demon of Vyantium Puss-In-Boots? The smirking detective? The questioning Qunari? Or the gruff monster daddy?

Listen. I read trash. Smut, romantasy... I read objectively bad literature, for fun, all the time. And, I have a fantastic imagination. It is my own personal fleshing out of theses characters that saved me in this game.

But I should not have had to do that.

The Keep

I cannot explain to you, in words, how important those one-off codices and cameos are.

(Don’tThinkAboutIsabela Don’tThinkAboutIsabela Don’tThinkAboutIsabela).

*Grimaces* Okay.

I can speak no more about this. I am already writing a “Keep” DLC for Veilguard.

I would have rather lived in your world state than this abomination. Which leads me to…

‘The Soft Reboot’

So. The South is Gone. That’s the answer. The Hero of Ferelden. Hawke and their siblings. Everything is wiped clean, just as EA asked. All of the South, turned to the Hissings Wastes and the Anderfels, because of the Blight and the hubris of the Gods. What a tragedy. DA5 looks likes its overseas. Cool.

You know what would have been a better reboot?

Spite, taking over Lucanis’ body, walking through the Ossuary, or the catacombs of Minrathous, explaining to Rook how the heavy emotions of People manifest in the fade. The birth of a spirit. Or a demon.

Taash, meeting a spirit face to face in Arlathan, recoiling in disgust, until they help the spirit on its journey, and Taash begins to question their whole worldview surrounding demons. I- I mean spirits.

Emmerich, taking Rook on a lecture-walk through the fade, meeting spirits, solving puzzles, ‘you know, its not so bad in here, what’s the big deal?’

Bellara, instead of discovering Cyrian only to lose him, meets the demon formed of his death, and how to help him back into a spirit.

Neve, following a trail of wisps in the fade, learning things, memories, feelings, songs. Neve, reveling in the pure beauty of the wisps, until they lead her to Vir Dirthara, and her eyes grow wide, what is this place?

Davrin and Assan, after hard training in the High Anderfels, take a break, and while Rook and Davrin flirt, or joke, Assan finds a long string, and begins to play, the string growing and lengthening and thickening until a soft, feminine whisper fills the air, I Am So Sorry… And Rook and Davrin meet a strange spirit, a perfect combination of protection and regret, and they help her find her way home.

Harding, palms flat on the stone, pushing, working, threading her magic into a titan, tilting her face up to Rook, eyes shining blue, speaking in a thousand voices at once, let me show you what was lost, and for a millisecond, we FEEL Isatunoll.

The Dwarvhen was tranquil’d from their Memories, but the Elvhen were tranquil’d from the Fade.

And when Solas turns from Rook in Minrathous, I am sorry for this final betrayal, he is puzzled at the lack of retaliation, and turns to see the Veilguard, standing behind Rook, eyes locked on the giant eye-shaped rift in the sky.

Why are you not stopping me? He asks the group of misfits.

And Rook answers, I can admit when I was wrong. Tear it the fuck down.

And Solas, battered, bruised, and bloody, smiles, brandishes his ritual dagger with a flashy flip, banishes the blight, and tears down the Veil.

When I learned there were only going to be 3 choices carried over from the rest of the series into Veilguard, I tagged my complaint posts with something.

#You Cannot Dangle A Carrot In Front Of Me For 10 Years And Then Not Be Surprised At My Anger In Discovering It Was A Painted Dowel

Let me reiterate. I enjoyed this game. It was fun for me. I’m in the middle of my second playthrough and am planning a third, and a fourth. But this is NOT a Dragon Age game.

This is an EA game. And its good. But it could have been everything.

Bellanaris.

TLDR;

How torn I feel; lobotomized, rendered tranquil, separated from the memories, lore, and spirits, of the old Dragon Age, while still, like the Veilguard, wanting this world to endure.

Var lath vir suledin, BioWare.

For now.

[mercurial-thrills]

I've been taking writing seriously for eight years. Here are eight lessons I've learned.

*Buckle up, this is going to be a long one*

As I squinted at my phone in the darkness, I stared at my Calendar. Blocks of red and pink were blocked into my schedule: do schoolwork, take a quick break, attend an online co-op class, sign up for a school workshop, finally read the first chapter of that thick textbook I bought.

Then, I looked above it all, the day of significance in magenta.

"Anniversary of Secrets." September 9th. The day I chose to take writing seriously. Between unfinished stories on loose-leaf paper, and untitled documents of characters on my desktop, writing had only been a spur-of-the-moment activity.

But then, September 9th came along. From visions of girls riding dragons and comments of classmates writing their own stories, I realized I could be like them. I could take writing as seriously as they did, spending more time on my stories than fixated on my favourite series.

In fact, writing became a fixation of my own. Over these eight years, I have watched countless videos, read a few books, and wrote hopefully around a couple hundred thousand words. As well, I have amassed a fair amount of writing advice. Here are eight of the lessons I learned over the years.

Lesson #1: Outline First, Write Later.

Ideas popped into my head like a game of whack-a-mole. They popped in and out whenever they pleased. I dreamed of cat-eared superheroes, of zodiac themed dystopias, of strange, American-style Isekais before I knew what that word meant.

My attempts to outline the story were inflated by my urge to write it. By the time I started writing my first official project, I decided to write the outline and FINISH the outline before jumping into the story.

Lesson #2: Embrace Diversity

If you've been on the Internet in literature or writing related circles, it's hard to avoid the topic of diversity, and for a good reason. Diverse situations and characters create new perspectives for readers and writers alike.

I learned to embrace diversity through a video made by Jenna Moreci:

After watching this, I thought more about my character's racial and ethnic backgrounds. Along with that, my characters became much more queer, and far more neurodivergent than I could've fathomed back in the day. Their backstories and family situations are more diverse as well: some of them were in foster care. Others came from big families.

The most important thing is to not do this offensively, and honour every culture you come across that's different than yours. Thankfully, there are plenty of resources online, such as Writing With Color(https://www.tumblr.com/writingwithcolor).

Lesson #3: Take Inspiration From Your Favourite Things.

My first story, Secrets, took direct inspiration from the books Harry Potter, Bone, Percy Jackson, Masterminds, and Eragon, respectively. But my second big project became a result of my Voltron obsession (which, assuming you're reading this on Tumblr, I'm sure you're familiar with).

The story formed as a space opera with alien planets I invented myself, and a human species who evolved to conditions on Kepler-22b. I'm not going to deny that I drew inspiration from the "Leakira and the Defenders Of Tomorrow" AU. Though this project is now its own being, I cannot deny where its origins came from.

Lesson #4: Do NaNoWriMo. Seriously.

First of all, I'd suggest staying away from the actual site. There have been numerous controversies, including demonstrating support of AI for creative works, and predatory behaviour on its forums. That doesn't mean we cannot still participate in writing a novel within a month.

Doing an unaffiliated one-month writing challenge will likely not help you get better at writing. Quality over quantity, after all. However, it will help to create a writing habit, and force you to think of unorthodox situations where you could write words… like, on the bus, in a bathroom stall, or in a waiting room.

Lesson #5: This is not going to be a career. Not for a while.

I was a 17-year-old, frothing at the mouth, obsessed with what my hands could produce at the click of keys. I wanted this to be my career. Badly.

However, college loomed around the corner, and I could not fathom spending so much money to learn creative writing in university, when it would have so little pay-off later down the line. Plus, I knew the field was a competitive one, and boy, I was not ready to compete.

If you want writing to become a career one day, go for it. Work hard on your writing. Focus on it like a bird focuses on looking for its worm. Keep in mind, however, whether the pay-off will be worth it for you.

For example, if you are willing to compete and set yourself apart, it would be beneficial to study English, Creative Writing, or Journalism at a university. You could become a copyeditor, a journalist, or a teacher, with some extra learning. However, what if becoming an author feels unstable? You could consider a career in a transferrable field such as office administration, library technician, marketing, psychology, or accounting.

Lesson #6: Fanfiction is good.

When I got into the game Terraria, I spent many hours traversing the right side of my world and building cube-shaped houses, and far too many hours before I thought I was powerful enough to fight the Eye Of Cthulhu. That aside, I started writing fanfiction inspired by the franchise.

Surely, there’s not much canon material regarding the NPCs whose names change when they get killed. So, I made my own. I elaborated on characters that had pre-existing relationships and made up my own where there weren’t any. It was a brilliant practice in writing when none of my other ideas seemed appealing.

I have since finished said fanfiction, but I still write about certain fandoms from time to time. It helps to have an outlet for creative ideas that would not fit your other stories.

Lesson #7: Don’t Fear The Critiquer

Reading my works aloud startled me to the bone. Thankfully, my friend clarified that this writing club gave good critique on his own worldbuilding. So, I showed up, and oh, am I ever so thankful I showed up, because it has, quite literally, changed the way I see writing.

Reading out my writing to others has made me better at sharing, and at accepting critique. I received a lot of praise, and I also realized a lot of mistakes. Most of all, I learned not to fear what people thought of what I wrote: chances are they’d like at least part of it.

Lesson #8: Every little bit counts.

After many years of taking it slow, life started to get busy again. Life became more cluttered, and I fought to balance my classes with any extracurriculars I may have had, with therapy appointments and going to the doctor’s to sort out health shenanigans, with the full time summer job I had, and with nurturing my relationships.

If you had a hard time reading that sentence, that’s what my life has been like for the past year or so. Busy, cluttered, hard to organize, but still manageable in small chunks. This is what writing while busy should look like. Little bits and pieces of writing, whether it be in a chapter or short stories.

The Big Conclusion

Plot twist: These eight lessons I learned were relevant to each of my eight years spent learning the craft. I spent them embracing the craft, learning to make good settings, and understanding how to create interesting plots. At the same time, I have yet to self-publish any fiction other than a short story.

Still, I’m happy with the progress I’ve made in these past 8 years. It’s been a long journey, but with every year, I learn so much more.

If you’re looking for where to start, this is where you should: whether it’s writing down that random idea that’s been sitting in your head, or scribbling down a drabble about the rain outside, just take one first step.

[everythingloveandanimated]

Fanfic that wants to be told, but words keep escaping me when I put it in story form. I know HOW I want the story to go, I can SEE IT in my head like a movie! But words escape me like child trying to avoid going to bed.

Okay! Here we go!

Title: On the Boundary Line

Murtagh and Eragon are fighting the next Big Bad. The final battle takes such a toll on them, their lives are hanging by a thread and they wake up, each alone, and find themselves in a sort of limbo.

Murtagh's perspective is first since he was the one I thought of first.

He wakes up, looks around and remembers the last thing he saw and felt. He wonders if he's dead. A voice assures him that he's not dead yet. He barely recognizes the voice, but it is familiar. He sees his mother, Selena. They embrace and then talk things out. He asks why she left him behind, she explains the situation. (Personal theory ->) She wanted to take him and tried to get Morzan to agree that he should have some time out of the castle. Morzan refused, and things started escalating and came to a boil when Murtagh started crying over his ruined horse toy. Morzan threw his sword, Selena healed him, but now she really couldn't take him with her because of his injury and because Morzan was ordering a closer eye on Murtagh (think supervised visits). Selena also told Murtagh that she didn't want to leave him behind when she went to Carvahall, or when she died. Selena apologizes for leaving him alone, and for bringing him into such a dangerous environment, and for not being able to do more for him. Possibly a few other questions happen, which result in a reconciliation between mother and son. She tells him she's so proud of her beautiful boy. (Also had the thought that Selena tells him that Eragon is close and will probably have the same questions. She gives the option to hear them himself, or wait until they find Eragon.)

Then another voice comes in, Tornac. Murtagh is a bit hesitant, guilt-ridden that Tornac life was cut short trying to get him away from Galbatorix. Tornac comforts him, saying it was worth the risk, and his death was worth it if it bought Murtagh a few months of freedom. He also tells him that he watched Murtagh's life up the point. Murtagh hangs his head, knowing that Tornac would not tolerate some of his actions. Tornac says he understands why Murtagh did what he did, and notes that Murtagh has grown from who he once was. He affirms his pride in him, when leads to another tight hug.

He also says that when Murtagh is tired of calling himself "Morzansson" he can call himself "Tornacsson". Murtagh is floored by this, but grateful, oh so grateful since he saw Tornac as a father figure. Soon after Murtagh pulls his mother into their hug so that he can hold and be held by his two parents.

(I thought of having Selena go see Eragon while Tornac is talking with Murtagh, but no. Murtagh needs this moment. It doesn't seem right for Selena to disappear when Murtagh is distracted by Tornac)

Murtagh admits that even though he knows of his responsibilities, he doesn't want to leave this moment. His parents agree on both terms, but know that

Eragon's piece starts with seeing Brom then Garrow and Marian.

He embraces Brom for the first time since learning that he was his father. He asks where they are Brom explains. Some banter and some talk happens. Eragon admits that he once entertained the idea of bring Brom back from the dead, but the Eldunarí advised against it. Brom affirms that they guided Eragon rightly. The summoning of souls back to their bodies is not a good practice (goes more into details than I can think of right now)

They hug again as Eragon cries on his father's shoulder, saying he's missed him. Brom shares the sentiment. He is so proud of Eragon, how much he's accomplished in so short a time. What he has decided to do with his life, and how he has lead people towards a brighter future. He kisses Eragon's forehead.

Eragon sees Garrow and Marian and embraces them tightly. He apologizes to Garrow that he couldn't save him and the farm. Garrow forgives him and appreciates what Eragon was able to do for him before he died. Marian holds her nephew-son close to her. So, so proud of who he became. How much he's grown from the little boy to the full grown man, and how he's chosen to live his life.

Then, Murtagh, Tornac and another woman walk towards them. It takes Eragon barely a moment to recognize her. He starts a step or two towards her before he runs to her. They catch in another embrace. Tears flowing harder and faster than their other meetings. Selena clutches Eragon. "My baby, my baby!" Eragon savors this moment, beign held by his mother for the first time in "living" memory. They take a moment to look at each other and take in their appearances. It strikes Eragon that his mother is around his current age.

Once mother and son are acquainted one of them gesture Murtagh over and for the first time, Selena holds both of her sons close. They ask their questions and she gives the answers they have been wanting. (upon further reflection, this feels a bit crowded and not as private. I’d like it if Selena could talk to her sons without an audience.)

Murtagh meets Garrow and Marian. It's strange, they are his blood family but it's like meeting strangers. Garrow shakes his hand, Marian hugs him, happy to meet her other nephew.

Murtagh gets a moment with Brom. Things are tense. Murtagh notes to Brom that it's a good thing Brom wasn't alive when he found out about Eragon's parentage. Some talking back and forth and finally, Murtagh asks a burning question. If Brom had survived, would he have chased Murtagh away? Born answers, he'd be cautious, but he wouldn't turn away Selena's son after he quickly proved himself. Brom apologizes for not getting to Selena faster, and admits that he mourned her when he was alive. Maybe a few more lines of talking before they shake hands(?).

Their time draws to a close, Murtagh and Eragon need to go back. They say their final goodbyes (maybe this is where Tornac tells Murtgah he can call himself Tornacsson.) Tornac send Murtagh away with handshake, one armed hug, and a kiss on the forehead. Murtagh sardonically jokes that Tornac is not making this departure easy. Tornac chuckles an apology, one last look of understanding is exchanged between mentor and mentee, adopted son and adopted father.

Eragon hugs the adults who raised him one last time, Garrow and Marian asks that Eragon say hi to Roran, Katrina and Ismira for them. Eragon agrees.

Murtagh shakes Garrow's hand, and gives Marian a hug when she gives him one.

The brothers meet Selena one last time for a tender hug. Their time once again cut short with her. She repeats her love for them and affirms her pride in her beautiful boys.

Murtagh and Eragon walk back to the waking world as their parental figures watch them. Selena stands next to Brom under his arm, Tornac next to Selena, arms at his side. Selena puts hand on Tornac's arm in thanks. Garrow and Marian stand near and behind Selena, Marian with a hand on her shoulder.

........

Another thought tangent... maybe I could have the father figures show up first, then when Murtagh and Eragon are together again Selena shows up. But I like the idea of Murtagh having a private moment with Selena without Eragon. In a draft where Selena is the last person they meet, Murtagh has to fully accept that he has to share Selena with Eragon. Not a bad thing, just not the vibe I was going for.

Annnyyyyway! If you've read all of this, thank you so much. Feedback is appreciated.

[alagaesia-headcanons]

I've Had A Thought. I was thinking about the scene where Eragon is reminiscing over Brom's message to him as his father, and how Eragon is confounded and troubled that he in no way mentioned Murtagh. I found it a little sad that, for whatever reason, Brom decided Murtagh didn't bear mentioning. Then it crossed my mind to consider the possibility that Brom didn't know about Murtagh at all.

As it turns out, Eragon actually does think about it in that scene- he says, "He must have known about Murtagh. He couldn't not have." And admittedly I don't think this is the most likely scenario or that it's now my personal interpretation of canon, but the idea really has captivated me. Because it actually does fit within the facts! (the new book notwithstanding)

Brom was a gardener at Morzan's estate for three years, and while it's probably more likely that he learned about Murtagh in that time, I think it's certainly feasible for him to never know. Morzan was very determined to keep him hidden and took a lot of precautions to ensure just that. Oromis said Morzan forced all his servants to swear fealty and Brom found a flaw in his wards to infiltrate, and possibly he was able to do so because a job as a gardener didn't require such strict oaths because it wasn't in proximity to Murtagh.

Again, it may not be the most likely, but I can absolutely believe Selena might not have told him either. She also would have been aware of the serious danger Murtagh was in and would've wanted him to stay hidden. Even after Brom told her who he was and she started working with the Varden, she might have kept it secret. For one, Brom's hatred of Morzan is described as extreme and all consuming, and that it never waned with time. Even if she came to believe that Brom wouldn't harm Murtagh, she might not have trusted he could look at him kindly. And of course, telling him about her child with Morzan also risked damaging their relationship considering that they were lovers. Then there's the possibility that Selena did build all this necessary trust to tell Brom about Murtagh if he wasn't aware of him already, but it was too late for her to discuss it with him before she died. So I think it is conceivable that Brom actually never knew about Murtagh's existence.

Where this concept really shines is in an AU where Brom survives after Murtagh saves them from the Ra'zac. I've always liked these, and I sometimes toy with my own, but there's so many ways Brom could react and I've never been able to settle on one well enough to get invested in it. But I find this SUCH a fascinating take on it (especially if you wave off the detail that Murtagh's voice sounds ~exactly like~ Morzan's, which I tend to do). Brom recovers and meets their rescuer, and he has no idea he's looking at Morzan and Selena's son. Murtagh seems terribly familiar, but Brom has been relentlessly haunted by his past for so long now that he doesn't put much stock in the perceived similarities. Meanwhile, Murtagh realizes that Brom truly does not know that he's the son of the man he murdered, a precarious but welcome relief. Because he doesn't know- up until Murtagh's confession in the valley.

Brom is stunned by disbelief. It can't be true, Morzan had no children, because surely he would know, surely-! But another thought dawns on him, drowning out the memories of Morzan, because who could have been the mother of his child other than his wife: Selena? And Murtagh is looking at him with fear, fear that he'll turn on him because he shares the blood of the man Brom hated most. It's heart wrenching, because even as part of his mind tells him that maybe he should scorn him, Brom is looking at this man who single handedly saved him from the brink of death and saved Eragon and Saphira from far worse at the hands of Galbatorix, and who has given them extraordinary devotion ever since.

In his core, he accepts the truth of Murtagh's claim as he explains his past and recounts the story of his parents exactly how Brom knows it to be. The paradigm shift sends him reeling. Murtagh believes Brom is affected only because of his past with Morzan; he has no way of knowing what he felt for Selena. He still glances at him nervously, especially as he admits that he briefly intended to serve Galbatorix, yet then there's also a spark of trust and gratitude- maybe even hope- in his eyes when Brom doesn't rescind the way he vouched for him when they were stopped inside the gates. How could he? Murtagh has accomplished one thing neither Morzan nor Selena ever did: escape.

Despite everything, his aching heart feels something fiercely like pride. He would not dare ruin that for him.

Then to further prove the truth, like the world is laughing at his years of ignorance, Ajihad recognizes him, because after Murtagh was brought to Uru'baen, the Varden's spies informed him of Morzan's son. But of course, that was after Brom cut himself off and started living in Carvahall, so he never learned of that discovery. "Morzan's son" is said over and over, but in Brom's mind, that idea is far eclipsed by Selena's son. He's hurt and ashamed to realize he never knew something so significant about the woman he loved. And he feels guilty that Murtagh struggled for so long in Uru'baen because no one was there to save him when he was left helplessly alone. Brom must have been so close to him when he arrived right after Selena's death, but he just didn't know.

Brom is utterly at a loss. How can he process Murtagh- the child of Selena and Morzan, Eragon's half brother, and in a certain sense, his own stepson? What can he do now? He was already so terrified of telling Eragon the truth of being his father, and now he has another staggering revelation to inflict on Eragon and Murtagh both. The prospect feels terrifyingly impossible, but keeping his secrets has grown even more painful. Watching how easily and how well Eragon and Murtagh get along is now bitterly ironic. Even without knowing it, Murtagh is a great older brother, waiting vigilantly near his side after the battle. The injury Durza inflicted scared Brom in a way he can't put into words; he simply could not bear to lose Eragon. How could he risk that happening without telling Eragon how much he loves him and values him as his son? But telling him truth could be the quickest way to lose him. And now, with Murtagh, he has more to lose than he ever realized.

-And because Murtagh deserves it, I like all these changes resulting in the Twins never getting the chance to kidnap him, and so Brom has to figure out how to make the three of them into a family <3

[thexgrayxlady]

I think I like the idea of Murtagh and Thorn handling side quest type things for a while once they make it out to Mt Angor. As annoyed as Murtagh is that his already abbreviated training keeps getting interrupted, Thorn's the only mature dragon who isn't tied down to one location.

The first time, they're sent up to the north of the spine, near Carvahall. The longer they're up there, the more Murtagh suspects that the villagers did not need the help of a dragon rider to get rid of a particularly vicious cave bear, but he's already here and it's nice to feel useful and wanted and once he gets over himself, he gets to meet Roran. Reuniting with his brother wasn't nearly as horrible as he thought it would be. Adding a cousin to the mix shouldn't be that bad. Once the initial awkwardness is past, they get along like a house on fire. Even so, he tries to leave quietly once the bear's been tracked and dispatched.

Roran's having none of it. He and Thorn are family, even if he is a prickly grouch. They're at least staying for dinner. Thorn will not let him say no. Ismira is delighted by her uncle and his dragon friend. Dinner turns into a few extra days of helping around Carvahall and spending time with his family. By the time he actually leaves, he, Thorn, Katrina, and Roran are plotting to kidnap Eragon and bring him out here for Ismira's birthday.

Then they spend a few weeks in Illeria, trying to help Nasuada negotiate with the mages because the system, as it's currently set up, is a powder keg. They're happy to see Alin settling in nicely and that she's genuinely enjoying the outside world. Murtagh gets to be a fancy boy who knows politics at galas. He's having the time of his life dragging an ambassador for being a bad dancer. The four of them get involved in so many spy thriller shenanigans because Murtagh cannot go five minutes without kicking some kind of hornets nest.

They go north and fight a sea serpent alongside Uvek. Murtagh can only watch with horror while Thorn plunges into the icy abyss to stop it from dragging their boat under. Then lines on their harpoons go slack and come up cut. He's about to dive in after him when Thorn's head breaches the waves.

"She will not trouble your tribes anymore," Thorn says, dragging himself, panting, onto the pack ice, and adds softly, "I could not bear to destroy something with such a beautiful song."

They find more leads on the Draumar, only now they have enough experience to follow them safely.

Of course, half the time they either create or stumble into far more problems than they wanted. Murtagh can escalate taking care of some small time bandits into a narrowly averted major diplomatic incident between the Broddring Empire and Surda in under three minutes. At one point, they go to take care of some minor smuggling and somehow, wind up leading a heist in Ellesmera and both refuse to elaborate on how those two things are connected.

Eragon looses count of the number of times they come back far later than anticipated, and when questioned about it, Murtagh's first answer is just, "Fucking Durza!"

Thorn continues his side quest to get Murtagh laid, only now he's armed with the knowledge of romantic ballads. His arranged meet-cutes with any of the men or women he deems acceptable are met with a resounding lack of success.

Thorn builds his confidence up with bandits and wild animals and more of the little surprises Durza left around the continent. He learns drinking songs and ballads in taverns and from harvest festivals and on the road and eventually starts to share his own work. He watches people change from approaching him with fear, to caution, to acceptance, and eventually to joy.

And slowly, but surely the people of Alagaësia stop feeling dread at the sight of the red dragon and his rider and instead, feel safe.

[modern-inheritance]

Modern Inheritance: A Word from the Worldly (Eldest Short)

(A/N: The basic thread of this one has been around for a while, but lately I've realized that the first time I 'traumatize' Eragon in MIC, beyond the death of Garrow and the like, is when he first sees Arya's injuries from Gil'ead. In the bits and pieces I have for later Escape series stuff, Eragon has intermittent trouble just looking at her without remembering the wounds and how physically broken she looked. He's shellshocked that another living creature could inflict such cruelty on another, and that others would stand by and not just let it happen, but participate. Other humans!

It still pops up on occasion, even well past the events of Eldest, well into the war and even a few times here and there post-war. It's not an image he can get out of his head. But he learns to look past the wounds, the physical, and more see Arya's spirit as time goes on.

Oh, and a lot of elves? They need an attitude adjustment considering they were nearly wiped out by Galbatorix, a stinky human, with help from the majority elf Forsworn. I'm jus' sayin', y'all are talkin' mad shit for people being in sword poke range once your wards go down.)

~~~

A WORD FROM THE WORLDLY

“A word of caution?” Arya tugged on her elbow behind her head, stretching out muscles stiff from spending days on end pacing around the rafts like a caged animal. “Other elves…” She paused, rethinking her phrasing with a wry grin. “Best way to put it is that I am a horrible representation of my race.”

From where he sat lighting a twig over Saphira’s handily offered nostril, Brom let out a loud bark of laughter. He lit his pipe before taking a long drag and chuckling again. “Understatement of the century.”

“I’m sure it’s not as bad as you say.” Eragon knit his brows together. Brom had already alluded to Arya being…different. But surely….

The elf laughed. “Oh, it’s worse, but that’s beside the point. I wanted to warn you, though, that many elves seem to have the opinion that they are…eh, I wouldn’t quite say immortal, because we technically are, but…ah, indestructible.” She gestured in the air, as if pulling more adjectives from empty space as they floated by. “Infallible, untouchable, perfection personified, incapable of being wounded, beyond the rot and ruin of flesh, deathless in all forms, etcetera, etcetera.” 

‘You missed insufferable, if your description is correct.’ Saphira grunted. 

“That too. To the extreme in some cases.” The grin was a broad smile now, Arya quite happy that the dragon was catching on. “But Eragon, I want you to always remember something, especially if some elf starts harping on you for being human, or starts singing praises to just how ‘perfect’ they think elves are compared to your race.”

Eragon jumped slightly when the woman suddenly clapped her hands on his shoulders and steered him to look her dead in the eye. “We are but flesh, bone, nerve and brain, just like you. None of us are indestructible, none of us are quite as immortal as we think, and yes, we can be hurt, we can be killed, we can be dragged down by the limitations of our flesh and what our bodies can withstand. We are far from perfect, and far from truly immortal.” 

Her eyes took on a darker light, their flame flickering. “You and Saphira, of all people, know that better than most. I might be different in personality and culture than most of my people, but my body is just the same as theirs.” Eragon felt a rush of heat in his face when Arya slid her hands to his cheeks. “Do not forget that. If anyone says humans are inferior, remember that you did what I could not when you killed Durza.” She patted him on the cheek and beamed at him. “And if they don’t let up after Saphira has a go at them, send them my way.”

Unbidden, Eragon saw, for the briefest moment in his mind’s eye, Arya’s mutilated body as she lay unconscious across his lap, his hand shining with the first healing spell as he fought back nausea at the damage. Wondered at how she had survived, how she had fought in this state, shuddered at what else might be under the blood and bruises, the wounds long since healed before she had been sprung from her imprisonment. 

Elves could be broken. In body, yes…but not spirit. 

At least, not her.

Eragon swallowed. He could still feel the imprint of her hands on his face, warm and oddly rough from decades of life in the greater world. “I won’t forget.” 

“Good! Maybe you’ll put a few of them in their place.”

[pessimisticpigeonsworld]

I must be the minority of the minority here but god... HOTD is a mediocre adaptation, I don't understand people who treat HOTD as the new GOT (when GOT was good) the script of this series is poor, getting close to a poorly made fanfic made by Ryan. The characters are not 1% of what they are in the books (Rhaenyra/Alicent/Helaena/Rhaenys are practically new characters) and yes, it was only the female characters that they did that i think.... GRRM needs to stop letting people ruin his work, I thought he learned from GOT but no...

HOTD is definitely a mediocre adaptation. It falls into the traps of all the subpar and straight up bad adaptations do. It fucks around with character ages, it removes important plot points and characters, it changes characters' motivations and arcs, and it tries to cram too much information and too many events into too short of a run time.

The writing is sloppy or at best mediocre, the actors are good, but they can only do so much with what was written. The fundamental and purposeful misunderstanding of the story of the Dance alone shows how much HOTD has failed as an adaptation.

Actually, they did fuck over some of the male characters; Viserys becoming an old creep when he was in his late twenties in F&B when he married eighteen year old Alicent, Daemon murdering Rhea and marrying a teenage Laena, Laenor abandoning his children willingly. But it all is just a sign of how little Condal and Hess care about the actual story of F&B, just their rhaenicent fanfic.

I think this show wasn't GRRM's call, since HBO had already bought the rights to ASOIAF and it's world. He did have some input, as we see from Aegon's Dream, but clearly not very much.

I think one of the only reasons people pretend HOTD is a "good" adaptation is because the bar is in hell for those. Because it is, at the very least, better than the Eragon and Percy Jackson movies. But better than awful isn't anything close to good. Anon if you're in the minority, then I'm right there with you, HOTD isn't a good show.

[where-dreamers-go]

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

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

“Sparring Fool” Eragon x Reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

Humming in acknowledgement, you nodded.

“You’ve very skilled in your fighting.”

“I do my best.”

“Your best is impressive,” he added.

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

He smiled.

Your attitude only made Eragon more interested, curious.

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

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

“I would.”

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

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

“Sword.”

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

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

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

Have fun, little one.

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

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

There was no danger.

There were no enemies.

It was another practice in skill.

You made the first move.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Warmth coated his skin to which he hoped was unnoticeable.

They are playing with you.

I know, Eragon replied to Saphira.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were left open.

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

Sending you a disapproving frown lasted a second.

Swords locked between the pair of you.

Eragon had never been that close to you before.

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

“No. Tired, fricai?”

“Not yet.”

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

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

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

Eragon’s eyebrows rose.

What? I don’t—

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

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

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

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

Eragon Shadeslayer had lost.

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

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

Laughing, Eragon replied, “Perhaps another time.”

“I think I owe you a drink.”

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

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

~~~

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

Best wishes and happy reading.)

~~~~~

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[palacholic]

the embers project, part 1

premise: it has crossed my mind multiple times to write down a collection of memories, a series of tales from my life, moments and people and fragments of things merging and flowing into each other, without a real sense of continuity, bits and pieces floating in space, barely grasped from the greedy claws of oblivion and held just long enough to be captured in words. i figured this blog is as good a place as any else to share something of the above, if you like it, or even if you don't, please let me know. leave a comment, reblog, add your own stories.

inspired by of herbs and altars' the nostalgia project

first encounters

[redacted] is a small town of about 5000 souls. small, grey and forgettable. cold and windy in the winter, humid and plagued with mosquitoes in the summer. having crossed the street just below the main square, down the stairs i jumped, like so many times before. panic! at the disco was playing in my wire earphones, their debut album a fever you can't sweat out. "and i believe this may call for a proper introduction, and well don't you see i'm the narrator, and this is just the prologue?" on my way home from the library, to where i had just returned the last eragon novel, my fifteen-year-old self, henna red hair and not a clue what would happen just a couple weeks from that moment. it was february 2020, the world was standing at the threshold of lockdown. right now, i just wanted to make it home and escape the cold, awful, depressing weather. across the train tracks i went and minutes later i was back in my room. panic§ at the disco was still playing on my old smartphone, and suddenly my thoughts changed direction, wandered far away and found something in those mysterious corners of my mind; the almost faded memory of a name heard on the news not long ago brought back to life by the music i was listening to, my curiosity awakened, soon i found myself dialling the nine letters into the search bar. praying to the gods of cyberspace that i either remembered that foreign name correctly or at least spelled it somewhat intelligibly, hitting enter.

one of the top results was an old, not so professionally looking wikipedia page, nevertheless i clicked that one first. after a short biography and some rather incoherent commentary it led me on to more specific sites, news records, media and blog posts. i spent the rest of that afternoon in awe, putting together piece by wonderful piece the story of a life only a few years longer than mine at that point, in a country i knew almost nothing of, decades ago. and yet it felt strangely familiar, like i just met again a friend i hadn't seen in a long time. that would be the first afternoon of many that i was about to spend like this, exploring, reading, learning more. and that afternoon, for the first time in a long while, i didn't feel as alone anymore.

many times, in the years that followed, i've tried to capture the essence of what drew me in that day and never let go of me, what kept me coming back again and again, over the span of years to come. did i see myself in him? in a way. was it, on the contrary, about the differences between us? certainly. just pure chance, a constellation of events and decisions not mine, leading up to each other? without a doubt. my everlasting affinity for the dramatic, the romantic, the macabre and for tragic stories, a pattern evident in the type of people i used to admire more or less intensely and constantly over the course of my life? maybe more than anything else it was this last factor. there was joan of arc, who made me fall in love with history and at the age of 14 proclaim that i would become a historian, there were the authors i used to love in my teenage years, mary shelley, lord byron, novalis, all the romantics, edgar allan poe, whose tales were my lone company during those tedious highschool days, when i felt like i'd never belong. there were witches and heretics persecuted by the inquisition, troubled painters and poets and philosophers, and there were eerie similarities between them, for once, most died young and in unusual ways, and over time those who fought and died for something stayed why the others faded to the background and their works started to collect dust on the lower shelves of my library. i built my own pantheon of tragic heroes, to whom i looked for guidance, whose strength and courage helped me whenever something bad happened. the dead became my favourite company, keeping me afloat. i found friends who shared my passions, although i am positive never to the same extent. i was the weird kid who wrote self insert fiction about me meeting my heroes, who wished time machines were real so i could escape a place where i never really felt home.

but this time, it was different. i just didn't know that yet as i sat in my room, reading article after article, hungrily swallowing word after word like life-saving medicine. this time, it wouldn't fade. it would only get stronger over time, changing and evolving as i got older, as things around me happened, as covid brought the world to a stillstand. lockdown meant lots of time to hone this new interest of mine. it's not really true that one moment came and changed everything. it took months for me to realise how involved i had gotten. how jan palach's story touched my very soul in a way nothing and no one had ever done before. how i couldn't stop thinking about what must have led him to do what he did. how it was like for him, those final days, before and after the act, i was unable to wrap my mind around it. but more than anything I wanted to know what kind of person he had been. those details i loved the most, the recollections and tales of people who had known him, the snippets from his life, sometimes documented by photographs i came across, sometimes just a couple words from a classmate, a friend, a neighbour. i tried to understand him, who he was, what he valued, how his mind worked, i tried my best to understand the why, the when, the how he came to that fateful decision.

did i ever truly know? who am i to say i understand the reasoning of someone who lived and died almost half a century before i was born, whom i'll never meet - at least not in this world - and who can't answer my burning questions? that's the tragedy of it all. i wanted to know him, to know everything about him, to capture the very essence of his person. it was a bizarre balance between company and loneliness that i felt in those months, as summer crept by like a sluggish creature, lockdown had ended but nothing was like before, not yet. i'd found not only someone to look up to, but also a confident, someone whom i felt would have understood me and known better than me the reasons why i felt so out of place. wishful thinking of a teenager on the brink of mental illness, struggling since early childhood with a variety of odd symptoms that would, not long from now, come together into a perfect storm. the typical "no one understands me!" mixed with a huge helping of escapism, somewhat of a disappointment at a world that showed itself hostile and cold, a desire for company and maybe a sprinkle of naivety...

and the perfect storm built up and then started to rage, swaying me like a puppet, shaking the very foundations of who i thought i was. leaving my soul bare and vulnerable. it came out of nowhere and while, in the past, i used to blame this or that, trying to explain it all away, i'm just upset because x happened, i'm angry because y said z, i'm sad because a did b, it was never that easy. some things played a role, greater or lesser, some unfortunate events happened, it was a time of great insecurities for the world and society as a whole, as the summer of 2020 slowly began fading into fall. i remembered that summer, languid hot days, eternally stretching out under the scorching sun, nothing to do, no one to talk to. endless nights spent reading about him, until i'd fall asleep and dream of a place far away from where i was, a place where everything would be fine. he wasn't there though, almost never.

fall brought with it another set of changes, gnawing at the already fragile foundations of my routine. i had switched classes, being introduced to a whole new bunch of people, teachers, even a couple new subjects, everything at once and on top of all the stuff that had already been going on. i managed to make myself known as the weird one on multiple occasions just in the first few weeks. soon, i started to feel out of place once again. my hopes faded like the last rays of sun as fall turned to winter and my days became darker just like the sky outside. more and more time i spent alone in my room, usually reading about him, trying to hold on to the only thing that brought me joy - or at least relief from the never ending pain. you see, i had never felt at home where i was, not among my classmates, not even really among the kids i called my friends, not in my town and not even really in my whole damn country. i was always the odd one out, the strange one, obsessed with things to a degree others couldn´t comprehend, unable to do certain things due to my body straight up refusing to cope with them. i had no knowledge about neurodivergence at that point, the word autism in my mind evoking only images of non-verbal children with "special needs". i never thought i could be autistic too.

so there i was, trying and failing to cope with all the bullshit my young life just kept spewing at me, holding on for dear life to my only companion, spending endless nights browsing the web, looking for anything that could make me feel closer to him. it was a dangerous mixture, all that pain and self-hatred and the feeling of being forever excluded coupled with the desire to escape from this world that seemed to hate me, to punish me for a crime i didn´t even know i committed. for the crime of just existing and being different than the kids around me? i felt so very helpless and alone, and more and more i started to feel defeated and like it just wasn´t worth it.

this is the end of chapter one, please let me know if you want a follow-up. i might edit it a little here and there, so if there are any typos please be patient. i decided to write in english since it´s way easier for me than czech, but i will still be posting under the čumblr tag to reach a wider audience. please don´t be mad at me for that. i very much enjoy writing these stories and it helps me come to terms with certain things from my past and how they eveolved into my present. if anything in this story upset you, i am deeply sorry, it´s okay if you need to stay away from this kind of post for your own safety. in the following chapters we will be dealing with more heavy topics, so please take care.

[weltato]

I Despise The Eragon Film (rant, spoilers)

@after-nine-at-the-oasis requested my rant about the Eragon film, so here it is. Quick disclaimer that I haven't seen this film in about 6ish years, so some details may be off and most memory of this film is faded now.

I'll start with a positive: the visuals are good. I don't remember much about the acting tbh, but the film is nice to look at if memory serves, so I can give the film that. Also, there was the lovely touch of Saphira at Brom's funeral. Yeah, that was also in the book, but it was nicely realised in the film.

Now for the rant :)

First of all, the film is called Eragon, and yet it goes through the story of all four books in 1 hour 44 mins. At least call it Inheritance or Inheritance Cycle, c'mon, that's the actual name of the series of books.

There's a transformation scene for Saphira and I understand having a montage or speeding up the time it takes for Saphira to learn how to fly and stuff, but in her first flight she suddenly grows to adult size and fully knows how to fly and I'm pretty sure we see her breathe fire before she actually learns how to do it in the books. I understand the creative liberty behind the fire breathing situation, but really? They couldn't make it a montage thing? I just. No. No, thank you.

If I'm remembering this correctly, they also have Eragon and Arya on relatively friendly terms really quickly - again, they ran through the story that spanned four books in under two hours - and this is just so against the books. Sure, Arya isn't exactly mean to Eragon, but she's standoffish and distant to him, not really respecting him for much outside of him saving her life because he's a human and she'll outlive him. Even when their relationship has mellowed a little and Eragon admits his feelings, Arya is still like "no, sorry, you're human". In the books it was amazing to see not only the character growth of Eragon from this scrappy kid to a reliable warrior, but the growth of Arya from a bigoted elf to someone who learned how to make friends with others and get along with humans. Even when Eragon is made into an elf/human hybrid thing and can now live much longer than humans, even then when he mentions it to Arya, she just brushes him off again but this time it's not without a smile. By the end of the story, their relationship is friendly and hopefully open for more.

Did we see Arya's dragon in the film? I think so. Did we see how she got him? Not that I can remember. I have a vague memory of Thorn in the film, but now that I'm actually thinking on it I don't remember Firnen. I remember that Glaedr was there, but I don't think we ever saw his Eldunari?

Basically, my main gripe with the film is that they missed out so many things by cramming the entire set of books into such a short time. Harry Potter managed to split up the last book into two films, what was wrong with having a film a book like HP?

I may need to rewatch the film (🤮) to properly get a grasp on how bad I think it is and if it really is as bad as I remember it being. I don't have high hopes.

PSA: READ THE INHERITANCE CYCLE BOOKS!!

That is all.

[ivorydragoness44]

Once Paolini said something along the lines of "Murtagh's actions in Urû'baen had made it so that any future romance between him and Nasuada would be impossible" and I hope that he stays true to his past words, I hope that he doesn't fall on the fanservice route and turns the whole story into a cloying romantic fairytale.

Also Nasuada's decision to put magicians on a watchlist made me think that she may be one of the future antagonists and it would be a really interesting development to read if well written.

Hi, Anon!

Great points. I hope the impossible romance remains impossible for a few reasons. I'm fairly sure Nasuada understood that Murtagh had no choice in the matter, and maybe forgave him (it's been years since I've read the books, sorry), but you definitely cannot forget something like that whether or not you were crushing or otherwise romantically interested in someone. If they did something like that to you, forced or not, that's going to leave some damage more than just the physical kind.

Also, for the impossible romance, I'm fine and good reading a character having a crush or interest in another character, but (being with we don't know where Eragon and Arya are going to go relationship-wise for example) a character doesn't need to be with the first person they fall for, ESPECIALLY if the other character has no interest, etc.

Romantic fairytale? I hope not. I think Murtagh and Thorn have a lot to work out within themselves. Personally, I don't think Murtagh would be necessarily ready for a romantic relationship. And I want to learn more about Thorn. Like, what's his personality? How are they together, etc?

Nasuada having magicians under her thumb, AH! I remember understanding but not liking the idea when she was discussing it with Eragon. Like, you would have to hide your magic abilities in Alagaësia if you didn't want to swear your loyalty to her; to keep your free will. Or leave, like Eragon did. Antagonist vibes are possible. Like, "Tell me you don't trust anyone, Nasuada. And you want to control everybody." I'm glad that Eragon decided not to give her, at least her magicians, the Name of Names.

Wow, this is a long post. Sorry!

Thank you for the ask! 😃

[everythingloveandanimated]

Something I love thinking about, Murtagh’s interactions with Ismira when she’s older.

He talks to her like she’s a young lady in the court, like how he did with Essie. He listens intently to her, comments appropriately, gives advice and gentle correction, sometimes gives comfort.

When she’s five or seven years old, he teaches her how to dance. Starting by letting her stand on his feet so she can get used to the feeling of how her legs are supposed to move.

Depending on her height, he levitates her so that she is eye-level with him. She holds his jerkin or shirt in her fist while he keeps a hand at her back to move her along with him.

As she gets older, he teaches her some of the more complicated steps, a spin here while he moves in the opposite direction. He teaches a dance with moments where the lady does something different than the man, but they still stay in harmony.

Sometimes he’ll sing a song from court while they dance. Sometimes he’ll make up his own.

He loves treating his second cousin/niece as he would a lady of the court. To him it’s a game, but it’s also a respect to her station as daughter of the Lord of Palancar Valley.

****

Ismira laughs and giggles with delight during these dances. Sometimes she gets nervous when learning a new step. But Murtagh is always patient with her, teaching her how to properly put her feet, teaching her how to count the beats of a rhythm.

The spins and dips are her favorites. She loves the motion. She feels carefree as she twirls and safe when Murtagh catches her in his arm.

Once she has the dances of Carvahall under her belt, she helps her family help Murtagh brush up on the dance steps for upcoming festivals. While she loves dancing with her father, mother, Uncle Eragon, and her friends, there’s a certain grace, poise and dignity when she dances with Uncle Murtagh. She truly feels like a lady of the court.



[alagaesia-headcanons]

Can you imagine the resolve it must have took for Murtagh to never stake a claim of Zar'roc after he discovered that Eragon had it? He calls it the one thing he expected to receive as inheritance, and he does have that right to it as the son of the man who owned it. In a way, an inheritance could have been the only potentially positive thing Morzan left for Murtagh. It still would have carried heavy connotations, but it would have given him control over some piece of his father's legacy. But in the absence of Zar'roc, Murtagh apparently inherited nothing else from his family, implying that everything he had access to in his youth didn't belong to him; that it was provided by Galbatorix at his discretion in a way to stifle his freedom. And Zar'roc in particular holds so much significance to Murtagh. There's a poetic notion that he shouldn't have to carry his father's misery, but even while it was lost to him, Murtagh had to shape himself around Zar'roc. He grew with the wound it inflicted on him and adapted himself so he could learn to live with it. A ghost of Zar'roc haunts him from the mark on his own flesh. But Murtagh did survive and adapt and learn to live- he mastered Zar'roc before ever laying a hand on it.

But when he finally does, he gives it back to Eragon. At first, no doubt he refrains from claiming it out of reluctance to reveal his identity. Yet when he does eventually tell Eragon the truth about his father, he still doesn't assert his right to Zar'roc. He never even tries to guilt Eragon into considering giving it to him. He only tells him that it was his only expected inheritance which he still didn't receive to show that he has no ties to Morzan and his cruelty. And Murtagh has reason to want Zar'roc, not just the right. For the sword to belong to him could replace that ghost of his past with something real that he has control over and that offers the chance to determine what this piece of his father's history gets to mean in his future. But Eragon also has a right and reason to use Zar'roc. A dragon rider has a right to a Rider's sword, and he uses it because he has no other. It speaks to Murtagh's deep care for Eragon that he doesn't infringe on that. He would hate for Eragon to be deprived or hurt and he refuses to take from his friend who has less than him.

That then illuminates why Murtagh later does take Zar'roc from him in the Battle of the Burning Plains. Eragon no longer has less; he has so much more. He has companions, he has support, he has resources, he has safety, he has his freedom. And he has a perceived moral high ground that he shoves in Murtagh's face. He condemns him as a traitor, just like his father. He asks to murder him and Thorn because he apparently doesn't care to try to find any other way to save them. Murtagh sees that Eragon will revile him no matter any efforts to cast off Morzan's legacy, and if he leaves him the advantage of Zar'roc, he will use it to try to kill them. Because Murtagh is now also a Rider. In his mind, what reason is there left to let Eragon keep the sword? And now, more than ever, Murtagh would want to grasp for that control over Zar'roc now that he's been stripped of his control over everything else. So of course he takes it. When no one will give him care, he seizes what he can in its place.

[writingwitch92]

I truly believe that herding cats would be easier than convincing my child that something i suggest was, in fact, actually cool.

Like ive been wrong a handful of times.

Ive been spot on for her likes at like a 80% success rate. Nay, 95% since she was 5.

Yet does she bestow upon myself the benefit of the doubt??!

NAY. NAY SHE DOES NOT. for she, as i and all of our ancestors previous, thinks that she knows more. She thinks that mother can not possibly know what besets and apprehends her interest.

Foolish child.

For though tis hard to direct thy desires, i am, ultimately, 23 years your senior and i was the oldest of 5 children. I did not learn the dark arts of directing anothers will, i wrote them.

So while you may think it was your decision to read wings of fire, and eragon... Just know that i was planting the seeds when you were but 2.

You may love Hooky, but your father and i have been directing you towards it and books like it since you could barely toddle.

And, eventually, you too will reach your 30's, look back, and think "huh, its weird that there were always just books i didn't realize id like but i loved just chilling in the house to discover..." and then like the sun through the clouds...

What I'm saying is... My kids stubborn af, and was convinced she hated reading but im winning and now we are getting into mild philosophy and ethics and its fantastic i cannot WAIT to see how all of her current thoughts and inklings pan out. Shes so fascinating and curious