#murtagh morzansson insert reader

[ivorydragoness44]

Murtagh Morzansson x Reader: Eerie

Word Count: 457 Warnings/Notes:  Established relationship, bed cuddles of reassurance Summary: The peculiar sound of the wind at night disturbs the Reader, they call for Murtagh’s comfort.

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  Waking up in the middle of the night was not a habit that you wanted to pick up on. At least not intentionally.   A sliver of blue moonlight stretched across the room from the gap in the curtains. Everything was still, and you were certain that it could not be too far into the night. All the more reason to settle back into the bed and go back to sleep.   With a final stretch, you could reach the cool parts of the bedsheets. However, you froze in-place. The wind outside howled most peculiarly. A chill ran up your spine and you curled into yourself. Sleep, unfortunately, slipped further from your grasp.   As you looked over your shoulder, it appeared as though Murtagh had yet to join you in bed for the night. You did not want to bother him if he was busying himself with something important. Even if that important thing was a leisurely read or speaking with Thorn.

  When the wind whistled by the window, you changed your mind. “Murtagh?” You called out to softly to be even remotely heard from across the room, much less the house.   Again, the wind howled. And again you called out to him, a little louder than before.   As his name finished leaving your lips, Murtagh walked into the bedroom. Swiftly, he came upon your side of the bed. “What’s troubling you?” He asked, concern etching his brows as he looked over your current arrangement.   As if answering for you, the wind blew immensely. The suddenness of the sound sent you under the blanket in a blink of an eye.   “I’ll be right back,” he assured, his hand finding one of your shoulders. “I need to put a few things away first.”   He left the room as quietly as he had entered it. By the time he was crawling into bed, you scarcely thought that he had left in the first place.   “Did you run?” You asked in your bewildered curiosity.   “No,” he said, snuggling up with you. “Was I too fast?”   “Not at all,” you replied, pressing yourself into him upon the next gust of wind.   His arms wound their way around you in a lovingly protective embrace. “The wind can’t harm you here,” he murmured, kissing the top of your head.   “It’s the sound,” you shuddered. “It’s eerie and unsettling. I’m none too fond of it.”   “Then listen not to it. Ignore its jests for your attention, it so highly seeks.”   Gently, his hand cradled your head to his chest where upon you heard a faint rhythmic thump. As your focus was adjusted to him, the wind became less noticeable. In a matter of minutes, you were lulled to sleep by the comforting sound of Murtagh’s heart.

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Thank you for reading! Be sure to check out my Masterlist for more fanfictions :)

[murtagh-thorn]

Dark Legacies Part I: A New Shadow

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~***~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nodded and sighed, slightly overwhelmed.

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

“Wait. What do I call you?”

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

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

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

Comfortable? you asked.

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

Are you saying I stink?

Yes.

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

Stay tuned for part II!

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

[murtagh-thorn]

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.”

~***~

One year ago

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

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

[murtagh-thorn]

Doing some writiiiing 👀

[ivorydragoness44]

Murtagh Morzansson x Reader: Disturb

Word Count: 568 Warnings/Notes: established relationship, post-canon, washing dishes (?), kissing, Murtagh finally says the f-word (I let him curse in this one, but in a good way lol) Summary: The Reader finds the Murtagh is still reading, they don’t want to disturb him, but they always end up getting cuddly together anyway.

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   It had been quite sometime since you had seen Murtagh. It was not as if either of you had gone very far. The pair of you had remained home for the day, seeking refuge from the usual daily activities.    In another room you had just finished putting away items from a personal project of yours. As you walked out into the sitting room, you noticed Murtagh in his arm chair still reading. It was quiet, and you wanted to keep it so. However, there was an empty glass resting on the side-table next to him that caught your eye. As to not disturb him, you all but tip-toed toward him to take the glass.    Retrieving the glass, you brought it over to the kitchen sink. It hardly took you any time at all to wash, rinse, and dry it before storing it away into the cupboard.

   Initially, you did not want to disrupt his reading. You never did, and he gave you the same courtesy. But you did at least want to share the same space as him.    Walking back into the sitting room, you were intent on lounging on the couch. It was both comfortable and spacious. However, a certain voice had you stop where you stood.    “You didn’t have to do that,” said Murtagh, referring to the empty glass you had cleaned.    Honestly, with how he reads some times, you were not sure if he had noticed you or not. “I don’t mind doing things for you from time to time. Besides, you washed the dishes last night…and all of this week, now that I think about it.”    He gave a small laugh that brought a smile to your face. “And I like to do things for you as well. You should not have to task yourself with every chore. We share this home, and I will continue to share in the responsibilities that come with it.”    “And I appreciate that,” you said, stepping over to the side of his chair.    “We’re partners and—” he paused as you leaned against the chair’s side, “and I forgot what else I was going to say.”    You laughed in your surprise. “Funny, considering I came in here not wanting to disturb you.”    “Disturb? I welcome your company,” he smiled sweetly at you.    “Murtagh,” you cooed. Bringing your hand near, you slid your fingers into his soft dark hair, combing through it.    Eyes closing, his head leaned toward you with a quiet breathy, “Fuck.”    Grinning at the result of your actions, you did it again. And then again, once more. Progressively, you gave his forehead a kiss, earning a hum from him.    Walking around the chair, you promptly sat on his lap. You smiled as he wrapped his arms securely around you, pulling you close and nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. With a small giggle, you placed multiple side-kisses to the best of your ability to his head. You felt his lips spread into a grin against your skin.    “You make me forget everything,” Murtagh sighed contently.    You knew that it was all of the bad events and such in his life that he was referring to, but you still spoke up. “Not the good parts, I hope.”    He gave a laugh and pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek. “I could never forget those. Moments with you are always my favorite.”

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Thank you so much for reading! For more Murtagh, definitely check out my Masterlist of Masterlists pinned on my blog :)

[ivorydragoness44]

Murtagh and Thorn: Deserving

Word Count: 849 Warnings/Notes: Murtagh and Thorn being goofy; splashing each other with water. Also, minor injury and blood mention (origin to Murtagh’s little scar on his chin??) Summary: Murtagh and Thorn find a quiet and secluded spot to rest and clean up. However, their time there takes a turn with one simple splash.

A/N: It's my birthday and I'm gifting you this! :D Hah, I was so surprised when I finished writing this. Enjoy!!

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  Miles away from civilization brought upon a great ease. Anyone else might have felt lost, detached, lonely even. But they were not anyone else. Those feelings were foreign to them more often than not. They had nothing to go back to in order to experience such things. No home. An invitation, sure, but no solid foundation to call their own.   The North was much cooler than they were used to on a daily basis. But they welcomed the contrast to the burning rage that still lingered. Like the bright flickering embers resting in a black dying fire.

  There was a small lake amongst a grassy plain, but being in the open prickled uncomfortably at their nerves. Instead, Thorn continued his flight, following the source of the current into a bulk of trees, and further still.   A break in the canopy of leaves, the water below glistened as if beckoning them downward.   I sense no dangers lurking, Thorn indicated, circling the area at a lower altitude than before.   Can you fit between those trees? Murtagh asked, feeling amusement rise in the dragon.   I will fit, he assured. It’s not two cliff-sides brushing against each other.   Go ahead, Murtagh nodded.

  Angling his wings ever so slightly, Thorn coursed down. The wind rushing loudly by Murtagh’s ears had become familiar and bearable. There were worse things.   When Thorn dove through the opening between the trees, neither could miss the distinct snaps and breaks during their descent.   See, Thorn adjusted his footing upon landing at the edge o the stream, I told you I could fit.   “I don’t think this qualifies,” Murtagh chuckled, glancing around at the fallen twigs and a small branch.   It was not too bad, he defended, watching as his Rider hopped down, the fallen foliage crunching beneath his boots.   “I know,” he patted the side of Thorn’s neck. “You did well.”

  In their secluded time there, they cleaned up and relieved themselves. And after a few hours of flying, it was well deserved.   Sealing his water pouch closed, Murtagh placed it down beside him. Though as he did so, he felt this lightness, playful even, from Thorn. It was rare, given their life together so far, and unexpected. But not as unexpected as Thorn stomping his paw toward him, a torrent of water droplets hitting his face and shoulder. He blinked simply, struck with shock at his dragon’s actions.   A rumble of laughter came up from the pair of them. Hearty and lively in the most purest form. Laughter, joy, he could get used to that. He wanted to, but even something so mundane felt like a luxury. In the moment, however, luxury be damned. They deserved such joy, such bliss.   Setting his footing, Murtagh leaned forward, reaching into the stream and splashed up water toward Thorn.   Crouched low to be eye level with his Rider, Thorn’s tail swayed and twitched in his building excitement. He tasted the water when it reached him and quickly lapped at his jowls. Murtagh tossed water at him again with bright eyes before he swatted a large paw in his direction. Ducking, he dodged his efforts and Thorn was almost disappointed.   Murtagh skipped across the grass with a smile, and Thorn pounced over the water after him in their little game. A joyous laugh rang out as he ran around the open area, Thorn playfully chasing after him like an entirely overgrown house cat.   With Thorn’s large and earth shaking steps, Murtagh took equally sizable strides to keep ahead of him. The warmth that spread through his chest matched Thorn’s with each passing moment. could this be but a glimpse into the life that they had missed out on, or what still could be?

  Pausing to catch his breath, he saw his dragon’s vibrant red tail swiping the air amidst his turn. Murtagh leaned back, almost able to count the scales as they swung passed in a brief moment of slowed time. All was well, until the throned tip of his tail barely nicked his chin, causing a stinging sensation from the sudden cut.   Thorn whirled around, and for a moment he froze. I hurt you, he stated, his insides gnawing at him instantly. I should have been more careful, he extended his head toward his Rider with glistening sorrowful eyes. I’m sorry, Murtagh.   Murtagh tapped a finger at his wound, and found a small streak of blood transfer over. Thorn sniffed, disgusted with himself to cause such a thing, but Murtagh smiled kindly. “It was only an accident,” he assured, passing his other hand over the dragon’s snout. “I would gladly risk it again to have a merry time with you.”   Nuzzling against Murtagh’s stomach, he sent a warming sensation. He may not be able to embrace him properly like another human, but he would attempt every other alternative at his disposal. He loved and trusted no other. They were all that they truly had, for the time being and foreseeable future, and he wanted to ensure each other’s safety, no matter what they stumbled upon.   Murtagh smiled, “You big oaf.”

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Thank you for reading!

If you'd like, check out my pinned post for more fanfictions.

[ivorydragoness44]

Hi 😃 I pretty much have the rest of this year planned out for fanfictions. So, I was wondering...

I was just wanting an idea of what characters you would be interested in reading from me ✨

Thank you! ❤️

[ivorydragoness44]

Murtagh Morzansson x fem!rider!Reader Moodboard

[ivorydragoness44]

Have a character in-mind? Consider getting a writing commission ✨ Even if you don't have a complete idea, I can help with that 😃

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My writing commissions are open with 3 available slots, starting at $3.

Check out the details here

[ivorydragoness44]

Writing Commissions Open

Have you been thinking about a certain character lately? You know the one 💖 Treat yourself by making that daydream a written reality with a writing commission for as little as $3.

If you're interested, check out my post here!

Reblog aren't necessary, but they are very much appreciated.

[ivorydragoness44]

New month, new commissions.

Fixated on a specific character? We've all been there. Let me help you bring that daydream into a readable format 😄

Check out my writing commission info here.

[ivorydragoness44]

Ah! I must write more of this

Murtagh Morzansson x Reader: Touch

Word Count: ~610 Notes/Warnings: Kinda touch-starved Murtagh and fluff. Summary: An evening with Murtagh, snuggled up and reading.

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  The room had finally reached an optimal temperature by the time you and Murtagh had ventured over to the couch.    “Thank you for dinner again,” you said, tossing your legs over his lap, “I don’t think my arms would’ve lasted much longer after today’s training.”    Chuckling, he rested his arms over your legs. “You’re most welcome.”    The pair of you settled yourselves onto the furniture further, ready to rest after a good meal and an exceptionally long day.    Leaning your shoulder into the cushion, you wrapped your arms around his closest one. It was one of your favorite things to do. To snuggle close and rest your head on his shoulder.    “Comfortable?” Murtagh asked, flipping open a book.    You smiled, “I have no complaints.”    He returned a kind smile before moving his attentions to the book in his hands.    With the short glance that you managed to get of the book’s cover, you still had no idea what he was reading. It could literally, almost, be about anything. This book in particular appeared relatively new to you. From time to time, you would ask about any book that he was currently reading. This time, you figured that you would hold onto your question for a little while longer, considering how interested he seemed to be with it.

Keep reading

[ivorydragoness44]

Fanfiction Plans for the Weekend:

Type up and post the Murtagh Morzansson x Reader

Write out the part 2 of the Red Hood x Reader in it's entirety (and hopefully finish it)

Figure out which Jack Frost, Leonard McCoy, and Seth Clearwater insert reader ideas to do...in that order 😆

[ivorydragoness44]

Fanfiction Update

For my October/Halloween mini event:

(insert readers in no particular order)

Murtagh Morzansson: completed

Jack Frost: completed

Jonathan Crane: completed

cute Ahkmenrah fanfic: in progress

angsty Ahkmenrah fanfic: in progress

Gazerbeam: in progress

bwfa Red Hood as Discowing: tbd

Seth Clearwater: tbd

Darth Maul: tbd

[ivorydragoness44]

Murtagh Morzansson x Reader: Comparisons

Word Count: 1,073 Summary: An elf speaks cruelly about Murtagh, the Reader overhears and is ready to ‘throw hands’ with them. Will Murtagh let the Reader beat the elf to a pulp? Warnings: No explicit language, but a somewhat crude phrase used toward the elf. Also, teasing Eragon from a distance, and the usual fluff.

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  The training grounds. Essentially, a plain span of open field that was deemed suitable for practicing to use weapons. Particularly swords, but no limited to. It was there that you looked on as Eragon and elves were training a few new Riders how to handle a sword without injuring themselves. Their dragons were likewise sitting around and keeping a close eye on their companions.    Usually, you would find yourself gathered with the rest of the Dragon Riders who would like to oversee the others’ progress on the grounds. However, this time, not that it was a new occurrence, you stood beside Murtagh.    Another usual sight, was to see the various races of teachers carry their preferred weapons with them. With absolutely no kind of threats within the community, or miles in either direction, you thought it odd. The thought had crossed your mind before, and your dragon and yourself had concluded that with the lives they had been living, it was normal. They had their reasons. And after progressively learning Murtagh’s story as your trust and relationship grew, you never questioned why his sword rested against his hip.    “If I were to tell you that Eragon’s hair is sticking up in the back…could he hear us?” You whispered out of the corner of your mouth.    Murtagh’s light laugh turned into an audible chuckle as the two of you saw Eragon swipe a free hand over the back of his head.    “I think you have your answer.”    You laughed with him at the sight. Teasing his half brother was rare and harmless. And if it resulted with Saphira laughing as well, it made for a more memorable moment.    The laugh bubbling out of you slowly lessened. Your attention shifted as your ears picked up on a collection of words.

   Off to your side were a pair of elves talking amongst themselves. You were well aware that listening in on other people’s conversations was beyond rude and disrespectful, but you could not stop. The use of the Forsworn and Morzan’s name was particularly jarring. They were not even necessarily trying to hide the topic of their conversation. If Murtagh had heard it too, he gave no indication that he had.    You remained silent, trying to readjust your focus, but it was not to be when Murtagh was clearly the subject.    “—a betrayer, a killer…like his father.”    When you heard the horrid assortment of words leave the elf’s mouth, you involuntarily sucked in a breath. Beneath your skin, the blood boiled and a raging warmth encompassed your body.    You could hear the air move sharply as your dragon whipped their head in your direction.    That is not the wisest decision, they warned, sensing your need.    Tell that to them, you said, your internal snarl striking outwardly in the next moment. “How dare you!”    “How dare we?” The volume of your voice startled them far more than your words.    “Yes,” you said, your voice as hard as stone. “How dare you speak so poorly of Murtagh.”    The expressions on their faces hardly altered, speaking so dismissively. “Perhaps you should mind your tongue, youngling.”    “As should you.” It was then that you felt Murtagh’s hands on you, saying your names with a soft firmness, wanting to lead you away.    “Don’t bother…it’s not worth it,” Murtagh said, pulling you away from the elves.    With your focus chained onto the elf, it was only through your dragon’s sight that you saw the alarmed face of Eragon jogging over. He likely wanted to diffuse the tension.    What sense you had lingering left let Murtagh steer you away from the growing number of curious eyes. You could feel the anger lessen under his touch, but even when you turned away from the elves, they felt the hierarchal need to say more.    “You have much to learn Shur’tugal!” They called after you.    Murtagh’s gentle hold tightened as you spun back around, fire returning to your eyes.    “Yeah, and you know exactly where you can shove that lesson!”    In only a split second did you manage to witness the elves’ and Eragon’s faces. Their eyebrows were nearly lost in their hairlines when Murtagh yanked you back to him.    Striding quickly out of earshot, Murtagh did not slow his pace or release his hold on you until his dwelling was within reach.    “I appreciate what you said,” his voice lower than before, “…but maybe don’t antagonize the elves…considering they know where we sleep at night.”    Grabbing ahold of his hand, you shrugged. “People do crazy things…when they’re in love.”    He smiled, dipping his head down for a moment. “Please don’t turn people against you for me,” he gave your hand a squeeze.    “I will do what I think is right and what is good for me. I will not conform to how people want me to be…I left that life behind.”    “Let’s get inside,” he said, his voice just above a whisper as he reached for the door.    Once you were both indoors, Murtagh turned to you and held both of your hands close to his chest. “I will never ask you to change who you are…I’ve been through that, and it’s certainly something that I would never want you to experience. Anything against your will, magically or not is awful. And whatever comes our way, like those egotistical elves, I’ll take what they want to throw at me. I know who I am. What they say can’t change that. For what you said, defending me…I could not be more grateful to have you in my life.” He let out a breath of a laugh. “It’s times like these where I feel like you would go up against every last person in Alagaësia and beyond just to prove that they are wrong about me.”    “I would, because you deserve all of the kindness in the world,” you said, slipping your hands out of his to hug him around the waist. The feeling of his arms around you was like nothing else. The love and security that radiated within his embrace made all of the problems of the world disappear.    “Would you like to stay here with me for a while?” He asked, kissing your forehead. “And wait for everything to settle outside? I’m sure Eragon has his hands full.”    “As if I would say ‘no’ to time with you,” you laughed, nuzzling your face into his chest.

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Thank you for reading!

[ivorydragoness44]

Murtagh Morzansson x Reader: New Traditions Word Count: 626 Summary: The Reader and Murtagh come up with their own winter tradition while snuggling on the couch (because that’s apparently where I always put them…???)

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  It was the beginning of winter, the first that you would officially spend with Murtagh. Perhaps not officially, but at least together, and you were more than happy to spend quality snuggling time with him.    “Murtagh,” you asked, gaining his attention away from the crackling fire. “Do you have any winter traditions?”    He smiled softly at your curiosity, but replied simply. “No.” By the reaction of your falling face he continued. “Eating and drinking were the main…activities that I can remember. People dancing and listening to songs that I cannot recall, as well. Nothing too eventful or meaningful to cherish and maintain as a yearly celebration.”    Your heart sank at the thought. It had not occurred to you in your moment of questioning that his childhood had little to nonexistent good memories. However, as he awaited a response of any kind from you, a thought formed. “Why don’t we create our own?” You beamed in excitement.    Murtagh’s eyes widened at your suggestion. “Create what?”    “Our own tradition. I do not see why not. Who’s to stop us?”

   With his smile returning, he glanced away briefly in his surprised delight. “And what kind of traditions did you have in-mind?”    “I have not thought that far ahead yet. Don’t rush me,” you breathed out a laugh.    “I would do no such thing,” he affirmed, holding you closer to him under the blanket.    “I suppose we are limited at the moment because of trade,” you thought aloud. “Unless we all help to expand the crops.”    A particularly loud pop from the a-flamed logs startled you out of focus. Murtagh pressed an assuring kiss to your forehead.    “Do you want to make a pie?”    “Not at the moment,” he hummed against your skin, feeling a small smirk from him.    “For our winter tradition.”    “Ah. Yes, that sounds delicious.”    “And our dragons can go on a hunt together, I’m sure they’ll love that.”    Murtagh nodded in agreement. “Perhaps we can cook an evening meal together. Not necessarily a feast…some of our favorites, if we can obtain the supplies.”    “How would we decorate, if we wanted to?”    There was a calm pause of silence as he contemplated. “I was going to say ribbons and such, but…we are limited on extra supplies at the moment.”    “It’s all right, we can always make additions as supplies become more accessible,” you encouraged, gently patting his chest. “It does not have to be anything grand, as long as we’re together, I will be happy and most grateful.”    You felt as Murtagh seemingly melted into the couch with a barely audible wistful sigh.    “So…we have decorating, hunting, cooking, and……What shall we do to complete our new tradition?” He asked, gazing softly at you.    You made one of your thoughtful faces that he adored, though you never did catch the way he looked at you in-turn.    “You could…kiss me good night?” You suggested slowly.    His smile made your chest go warm. “May I not kiss you too soon.”    “I will not limit you an amount of times that you can kiss me, Murtagh.”    “I promise not to be greedy.”    “Sometimes I wish you would,” you half said to yourself. Flopping the blanket over his head in mock protest, laughter between the pair of you ensued.    Murtagh pulled you down with him onto the couch, your body now atop his.    As you lifted up the blanket, you were met with his smiling face. It was quite honestly your favorite sight. To see him in such a relaxed state as compared to his usual day to day was in a way relieving.    Pulling the blanket over your head to join him under the blanket, you snuggled close in your silly bliss.

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Thank you for reading!

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