#murtagh x nasuada

[yombur]

it was not lost on me that nasuada wore murtagh's colors in the last chapter

[glbtrx]

Murtagh: Don't worry about the king, Nasuada. He doesn't know of us.

Meanwhile, Galbatorix:

[knuxblocket]

Murtagh' couse I love Inheritance cycle

[itmakesssenseincontext]

Rereading the last chapter again because I'm going to build off of it for a fic, and oh my god. The love, the understanding, the fucking tension between Murtagh and Nasuada. All these things they won't say because that leads to annother conversation neither is ready for. She wants him to just be arround her, no real reason other than its him and he will stay for her . And just all these little ways they tell each other they love the other without saying those words because again that's annother conversation.

And what about when they have that conversation? Nasuada needs to marry and have an heir for the crowns stability. And in and ideal world she would marry Murtagh because he doesn't aspire to power, and more importantly they love each other. But its not an ideal world. He's a traitor nobody trusts except for her.

And then, there is also his immortality. Nasuada will grow old. She will die. Any children they have will do the same. And their grandchildren. And Murtagh will be an ageless immortal. He will have to watch that happen. And she will have to live with him stating the same (Also I've suddenly been reminded of a ASOIAF fic that explored this theme. I will have to reread it, that was so damn good)

Also they touch each other five times in the chapter, and she initiates all but one of them. Which like yes. I am a shipper. But Murtagh is not a touchy feely guy. And he lets it happen and notes the absence of her touch as much as its presence. And Nasuada probably doesn't get much of the casual human touch, that physical intimacy as Queen. And certainly not from somone who is her equal.

Anyway hi yes, I have brainrot for these two again.

Also Thorn ships it

[aragwenn]

Finished Murtagh and have yet to decide what I think. But the reigning opinion is that the Murtagh and Nasuada subplot, subtle as it was, was soo good.. that first coin scene??? Hello? Murtagh disguising his literal pining by acting like he’d never seen the queen before… then later tracing his thumb over her cheek and feeling as though he was taking a liberty. Trying and failing to parse out the expression on her face. ON A COIN. THE OFFICIAL CURRENCY. Absolutely insane so intensely romantic it changed me on the deepest level <3

[lunamond]

Loved the new Murtagh book so much that I had to do some fanart. ❤️

Spoilers for the last chapter of Murtagh!

[rosedubh]

just finished reading Murtagh and my middle school self is very happy right now

[inheritance-cycle-povs]

POV:

Your crush is the Queen of the Varden, and your master spins some girly fanfic of your relationship...

[brisingr-sword]

wait whats the ship name for murtagh and nasuada because im getting sick of typing out “murtagh x nasuada” (not that i wouldnt but there HAS to be something shorter)

is it like… murtada? mursuada? nastagh? definitely not that last one actually. maybe riderqueen? no, that could be too easily confused with eragon and arya. riderrebel? rebelrider?

[reyque]

My Roman Empire is the manipulated vision Galbatorix gives Nasuada of the both of them together...it has not left my mind at all and with the ending of Murtagh - hopefully it's a possibility soon🙏🏽🙏🏽

[supersumc]

I can't believe Murtagh and Nasuada didn't kiss! Paolini has quite the nerve to build it up and then yank the rug out from under us like, "Sike! You thought they were gonna kiss, didn't you‽" YES. YES I DID. You can stop teasing the shippers any novel now!

[yombur]

scenes from an inheritance fic you'll never read

someone at ilirean court spots and recognizes murtagh. there's a whole scene and he leaves the castle grounds to cool off.

thorn can't easily leave in broad daylight. nasuada waits up with him to talk to murtagh. she and thorn become bros.

murtagh doesn't get back til well into the night. goes to sleep under thorn's wing like he usually does. thorn's annoyed at murtagh and doesn't tell him nasuada fell asleep there hours ago.

[glbtrx]

Honestly when I was reading Inheritance the last thing i expected was to see galbatorix create sappy romantic fantasies for nasuada and murtagh like a goddamn fangirl but ok

[gunmetal-ring]

Just started reading murtagh and literally page 2 we get a taste of murtada?! christopher knows his audience omfg

[sangahnomiya]

good day everyone. workload has lightened so I can revive on this blog and say:

how many of you have read the inheritance cycle and how many of you are just as deranged over murtagh and nasuada as I am

[primasveraas-writing]

a night full of you

Murtagh has long been a weapon, a killer. With Nasuada, this all falls away.

Word count: 1027

Warnings: sexual content

_____

“I want this,” she reminded him, and who was Murtagh to deny her this or any wish?

Already, they had stripped their outer garments. Murtagh stood in only his breeches; Nasuada in a delicate chamise. His tunic and her dressing gown had been cast to the floor, long forgotten.

She kissed him again and the fire burned hotter inside his belly. Careful hands placed themselves on her hips;  her fingers tangled in his hair. She guided him, stepping back until they reached his bed. Nasuada lay with him, and once they were settled, he began to press kisses along her slender neck. 

But she parted from him a moment later. Looking him in the eye, she pulled the chamise over her head, leaving her body entirely bare before him. She did not drop her gaze, and Murtagh held her sight for a long second before allowing himself to look.

She was beautiful. Delicate, sloping curves of flesh, deep brown skin, angled and perfect; a magnificent sight entrusted to him alone. Still, her chin was raised as she watched him examine her, ever proud and unashamed.

“You are,” he said lowly, “the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

In response, she reached forward and tugged at his breeches. He obeyed, shifting to discard them. Unlike Nasuada, Murtagh found himself unable to face her as boldly as she did him. He was hard, his body flushed with anticipation, and he hardly trusted himself to move or speak again. His eyes were downcast; he couldn’t bear to meet her eyes.

She drew him closer, though, and laid down again. More kisses and exploring touches, skin against skin, lust and need and passion driving each motion. It was overwhelming. It was blissful. It wasn’t enough.

He looked at her, need mounting higher and higher, and she nodded. Murtagh could easily recognize the hunger in her eyes; it burned through his every nerve. Together, they moved, readying themselves.

Then, he trembled, bracing himself above her on his elbows. The space of a few inches was the only barrier between them now. Murtagh sucked in a breath, eyes flickering from a spot on the headboard, then to Nasuada’s eyes and back again.

But Nasuada was wordless as she reached between them, grasping him with a steady hand. The touch was white-hot against his skin, and he suppressed a moan. She guided him to her body and began enveloping him in a velvety heat.

This was better than before, but still not enough. It was a need to continue, to press deeper into her, but Murtagh remembered himself. Slower was better, for her pleasure and comfort alike. He dipped in and out again, shallow, delicate thrusts that went only a fraction of an inch further each time.

Nasuada made an impatient noise. “Please,” she said, trying to pivot her hips against him. Murtagh stilled.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered, and Nasuada answered him with a small smile before kissing him deeply, rolling her hips against his. He sank further into her and his mouth fell open.

“Ah,” he said. “Nasuada.” 

The name was as sacred as a prayer. He touched her again, fingers ghosting over her hips, her breasts. Each motion was painstakingly careful.

Those were words he’d never thought would describe himself- tender, soft, gentle- yet he resolves that was all he’d be with Nasuada. Reverent came to mind. He’d worship her, their bond, their trust, their connection. How many times had they professed their affection and trust to one another? How many times had they shown it? The instances were too many to count, but this shed their last vulnerabilities. This was an ultimate devotion to one another, after all they had endured at their own hands and from crueler outside forces.

They continued until he was fully sheathed inside her. He shook still, overwhelmed by the sensation, by the desire that sang through every part of him.

And then, together, they began to move.

Their bodies came together, flesh rolling against flesh, only sweat between them. It was jarringly different than bodies colliding on the battlefield; yes, it was primal and raw, sweaty, hungry, consuming- but this was not fear or hatred- these movements were all passion and love. 

Hands, which were callused and worn and drenched with blood, rubbed against her tender skin, coarse fingers circling her core, making her gasp with delight. Nerves and shame fell away; Murtagh lost himself in the scent of her, of them, of their pleasure and joining, in repetitive motions and endless kisses; to the feeling of lips on his neck and collarbone, skin against his skin, fingers pressing into his back and tugging on his hair. Nasuada cupped his face, her eyes meeting his. She smiled, a soft gentle thing. Murtagh echoed the expression, kissing the soft skin of her wrist just below her palm.

She wrapped her legs around his waist and turned them so that his back was now pressed against the mattress, sighing as she settled atop him. When he thrust up against her, she bit her lip and tilted her head back. He gripped her thigh, going deeper, and she cried out, again a noise of pure pleasure and joy. A sound, a circumstance, so different from long ago in the Hall of Soothsayer brought forth because of and for him.

His vision blurred, hot tears stinging his eyes. He gasped with the next ministration and the tears spilled over. Nasuada slowed, but Murtagh forced his eyes open, plastering a smile on his face once more. She softened upon meeting his gaze, understanding and compassion flowing between them.

“This is good,” she whispered, leaning down to kiss him. “Murtagh.”

“Thank you,” he managed, and meant it. Thank you for forgiving me. For trusting me. For allowing this connection, this intimacy. 

She shook her head. “I want this. The same way you do.”

And that was all that mattered. When they came apart later, holding each other and shuddering through it, all he could think of was her. Nasuada- he was drowning in her, in all this gentle conjoining, and he could not want for anything else.