#blödhgarm
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Do yall remember when one of Nasuadas guards was turned into a "dreamer" after entering Blödhgarm's mind?
Well, I do and it has spawned this hc.
Elves play mental boardgames with each other. Like imagine how deeply descriptive or weird their mind is, and what better way to learn to protect it than to play some literal mind games?
I'm imagining elves staring at each other for hours but mentally they are trying to figure out a literal maze inside the others mind. Kind of like some type of inception. Imagine the type of games they could create? Scary stuff. Honestly I'm surprised we don't see someone lose a sense of reality after fighting someone mentally.
#inheritance cycle#eragon#the inheritance cycle#blödhgarm#elves#eragon series#inheritance cycle headcanons
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Having many thoughts about sexy pheromone furry elf Blödhgarm.
#namely how to inject him into my fanfic to make characters question their sexualities#unfortunately I don't think I can swing it#ashna reads the inheritance cycle#brisingr#blödhgarm
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Eragon trivia i found interesting bc why not
Saphira could not imagine going into battle looking anything but her best (Inheritance, pg 316)
the High Priest of Helgrind had mental battle tactics Eragon had never experience before, such as binding the stray thoughts of Eragon, Arya, and Solembum to one another, thus making them briefly lose track of their identity (Inheritance, pg 309)
the dragons were the greatest enemies of the Ra’zac (Inheritance, pg 290)
Saphira referred to a powerful storm as ”wing-breaking” (Inheritance, pg 266)
Arya had wanted to continue serving her mother as ambassador of the elves after the war’s end (Inheritance, pg 250)
She also thought that too little happens in Ellesméra (Inheritance, pg 250)
Saphira does not like not knowing if someone is creeping up on her. she said it makes her scales itch (Inheritance, pg 249)
Arya’s eyes shimmer in the light (Inheritance, pg 249). this can be assumed to be an elven trait
Garven, once a guard of Nasuada, had been reduced to a slack-jawed dreamer after delving into the minds of Blödhgarm and his eleven other elves (Inheritance, pg 247). he later recovered, though his gaze still held a dreamy quality (pg 374)
When sparring with Eragon, Arya uttered a soft, catlike growl (Inheritance, pg 239). this can be assumed to be an elven trait
according to Glaedr, the way of the warrior is the way of knowing (Inheritance, pg 235)
Had it not been for Eragon and Saphira and Glaedr’s duty to them, Glaedr would have gone mad a long time ago [after the death of Oromis] (Inheritance, pg 230)
every time Saphira thought of Thorn, she became confused and uncertain, something she was unaccustomed to (Inheritance, pg 315)
Saphira thought of Eragon as a fierce hunter thatvwas small and easily squished (Inheritance, pg 317)
Saphira referred to Arya as dragon-blood-elf (Inheritance, pg 319)
dragon blood is scalding in temperature (Inheritance, pg 331)
Thorn has talons as large as a man (Inheritance, pg 331)
the elf Wyrden, one of Eragon and Saphira’s twelve elven bodyguards, was among Queen Islanzadí’s oldest and most powerful spellcasters (Inheritance, pg 336)
after seeing Wyrden’s funeral, Eragon wanted an apple tree planted over him so that his friends and family could eat the fruit of his body (Inheritance, pg 339)
Arya joked with Eragon that she could’ve kept the Shade Varaug as a slave to do her bidding (Inheritance, pg 340)
by the battle of Dras-Leona, Saphira was larger than a house, with Thorn larger than two houses due to Galbatorix’s meddling (Inheritance, pg 350). considering the average (two-storied) house is 20ft tall, this would make Saphira 20+ feet at the shoulder and Thorn 40+ feet. they both have claws, fangs, and spikes larger than Eragon’s body
Nar Garzhvog tore a man apart with his bare hands as easily as Eragon would tear apart a roast chicken (Inheritance, pg 351)
Arya was far more accomplished at manipulating others than Eragon (Inheritance, pg 362)
Eragon dreamed of his and Saphira’s departure from (the mainland of) Alagaesia before it came to pass (Inheritance pg 373)
werecats were the friends of dragons and Dragon Riders (Inheritance, pg 380)
there are mountains in Alagaesia that might have been formed via magic (Inheritance, pg 382)
the island of Vroengard, in the city of Doru Araeba, contained a crystal fortress (Inheritance, pg 386)
solembum stated that Galbatorix was not the only power in the world to be reckoned with (Inheritance, pg 388)
#Eragon#The Inheritance Cycle#moonspeak#this stuff likely isn’t in the inheriwiki pages but if it is at least it’s confirmation#Saphira#Glaedr#Arya
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Blödhgarm is basically a furry. Good for him.
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Eragon is already Nasuada's vassal, and he's Murtagh's brother, and Murtagh and Nasuada are two inches from being a couple. I'm scraping everyone into a found family. Angela and Elva are in it, too. Solembum, as well. I want all of these people hanging out regularly.
I want Elva babysitting Roran's kid.
I want Nasuada stroking Thorn's head casually as she takes a stroll outside, and Thorn nuzzling into her hand because Thorn, like Murtagh, is very touch-starved and loves Nasuada.
I want Angela casually brewing remedies for insomnia and whatever mild aches Roran doesn't think to mention aloud.
(I'd like to include Orik in this, but the Hrothgar thing is kind of the elephant in the room, Murtagh-wise, and I can't part with the Murtagh/Nasuada ship.)
I want Elva to fall asleep alone in some drawing room in Nasuada's castle and wake up covered in a blanket with Nasuada quietly writing a letter nearby and Eragon and Murtagh discussing the Urgal Olympics in some chairs a few feet away. And she wonders momentarily who gave her the blanket, but shortly decides that it doesn't matter and goes back to napping. Next time she wakes up, Nasuada and Eragon and Murtagh have left the room and Solembum is in cat form sleeping on the same sofa.
I want Angela to babysit Roran's kid.
I want Eragon to have inside jokes with everyone that are incomprehensible to everyone else. He has gone on little side-adventures with all of his friends and relatives individually, so he has little references for all of them.
I want Murtagh and Saphira and Thorn to just...hang out. Like, just sit in a field for hours, talking in their minds.
I also want Blödhgarm to babysit Roran's kid. I really just want Roran's kid to grow up so weird.
#the inheritance cycle#eragon series#nasuada x murtagh#eragon bromsson#murtagh morzansson#roran stronghammer#roran garrowson#angela the herbalist#elva#inheritance cycle
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Hey so Blödhgarm from the Eragon books totes had a knotted cock right? I remember everyone loved him ‘cause he was a musky husky but also he had that knot yeah?
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Smoke, Fire, Juniper
read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/liwDqEt
by Ashna42
The prevailing theory around Blödhgarm's musk is that only women can sense it. Murtagh proves that theory wrong, and discovers some troubling things about himself in the process.
Words: 14175, Chapters: 1/2, Language: English
Fandoms: The Inheritance Cycle - Christopher Paolini
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Categories: M/M
Characters: Murtagh Morzansson, Thorn (Inheritance Cycle), Blödhgarm (Inheritance Cycle), Nasuada (Inheritance Cycle), Eragon Shadeslayer, Saphira (Inheritance Cycle)
Relationships: Murtagh Morzansson/Blödhgarm, Murtagh Morzansson & Nasuada
Additional Tags: Eventual Smut, Scent Kink, Bisexual Male Character, Internalized Homophobia, I guess I should also tag this as furry because Blödhgarm is here, Everyone is supportive except for Murtagh himself, Mentions of alchohol, Touch-Starved Murtagh
read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/liwDqEt
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Eragon (and Saphira's) reaction to finding out Blödhgarm has been teaching the modern reader magic and self defense in secret, per request from reader, because she seriously doubts herself an doesn't want Eragon to know bc he's already mastered the sword and magic and she is just starting out and still making a fool out of herself?
“Training Secrets” Eragon x Modern!Reader
(A/N: You know…with a lot of these being about Modern!Reader, I’ll probably put some of these scenarios in the actual future insert reader. If you wanted me to discuss the beginning of that insert reader, please let me know. I’d like some second thoughts/opinions on things.
Italicized words are what’s in the Ancient Language.
This was suppose to be a reaction…looks like an excerpt now.
Word Count: 742 words)
Being someone who lived in a completely different world, possibly universe, and knowing about the people you were currently living with was a challenge. The challenge was heightened when you also had to learn to protect yourself, which meant two things: learn magic and self defense.
Having both Eragon and Saphira as your teachers was in a word, interesting. Look, you could only hold a serious expression for so long when Eragon was being teaching you basics of shielding your mind when you remembered about him staring at his big toe when Oromis went into his mind years ago. Did Eragon need to know that? No, not at all. You were trying to do your very best and improve. To learn all that you could without falling down in a heap again. Not to forget the time you wet your entire front while trying to cast a spell about water.
Where were you to turn? There was only so much you could get accomplished during your lessons and on your own.
For two months, you had taken extra lessons in magic and self defense. You knew well enough that you needed every minute of it. Your bonus teacher? Blödhgarm, of course. A fascinating elf for certain.
Working through the start of your third month of extra lessons, Eragon and Saphira had noticed a drastic change in your performance. Your stance was different, the way you held yourself, and even your confidence in the Ancient Language had improved where the pair had not expected it to so soon.
An afternoon of paperwork later, Eragon and Saphira were puzzling over your improvement. Something was not adding up. In your last lesson, you had known something that they had yet to teach you. A helpful phrase in the Ancient Language. They were proud of course, but the foundation of that phrase was not yet taught.
Were you that talented? A good guesser? Were they better teachers than they thought? Were you far more intelligent than they first thought?
The Dragon Rider and dragon went to investigate.
Reaching the door to your room, Eragon knocked.
“It’s open.” Your voice called from somewhere within.
Eragon took that as permission to enter and his limbs froze before he got more than a few steps in.
“Blödhgarm.” The name slipped out of the Rider’s mouth. Brown eyes darted around the space, seeing discarded swords and scraps of parchment. Eragon’s gaze fell upon you and your startled expression as you sat at your desk. The Rider shut the door behind him.
“Uh…hi,” you gave a short wave as your eyes flickered between him and your desk. “Is…is everything alright?”
Eragon looked to Blödhgarm who stood tall beside the desk, observing. The pieces of the puzzle fused together. “Blödhgarm, are you helping (Y/N)?”
“Yes,” the blue-furred elf answered.
“For how long?”
“Sixty-three days.”
You rose your hand, eyes looking between the pair. “Um…What’s happening? Am I in trouble? Because technically I didn’t do anything wrong.”
Why did you not tell us?
Saphira’s voice in your mind sounded concerned and was amplified by her emotions you felt.
“I…,” you internally growled at yourself for the pause. “I needed help. I wanted help. I’m tired of looking like a complete fool. So, I asked for help and I haven’t dropped a sword in almost three weeks. Improvement.”
It was not until you were finished speaking did you fully make eye contact with Eragon. The Rider’s expression fell, as did his shoulders. He could not be upset with your reasoning. He could not blame you for wanting to improve. Yet there was still a sickly twist in his gut that he could not identify.
“Is that why you’re both here?” You asked.
“Saphira and I had questions. It seems as if they’re answered.” Eragon looked to Blödhgarm again. “There is nothing wrong with wanting to get better.”
We only wish that you would have told us.
“You’re both busy. I didn’t think it’d matter too much.” You sat back in your chair.
“It does.” Both Saphira and Eragon spoke.
Secrets such as these could lead to more. Do not withhold your training from us. We are here to help you. Together.
You nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Eragon dropped his stiff stance and walked over to the pair of swords by the wall. “What were you saying about not dropping a sword?”
Your eyes widened once more.
#Erica answers#Eragon reaction#Saphira reaction#Eragon x Modern!Reader#Eragon x Reader#Modern!Reader#Blödhgarm#Eragon headcanon#where dreamers go#Eragon
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Conversation
Modern Inheritance Chats: Flower Power
Eragon: *Trying his best to explain elves and their cultural teachings to Roran* ...and they're also pretty strictly vegan, though Arya occasionally bends the rules a little. She's...different.
Roran: So, from what you're saying...elves are like those hippies that Father used to run with as a teen, but the elves just never grew out of it?
Arya: *straight faced, hands in pockets, in best and thickest Ellesmérian accent she has* Totally, dude. It's groovy. Twitchin'.
Blödhgarm: ...
Blödhgarm: Indeed. Far out, man.
#inheritance#inheritance cycle#modern inheritance#modern inheritance cycle#eragon#arya#Blödhgarm#blodhgarm#saphira#roran#brom#galbatorix#hippie elves#whoa man#groovy!#groovy#hippies
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Modern Inheritance: Dress Code (Post-War ficlet)
(A/N: Some Post-War MIC!Eragon/Arya for you all.
I’ve extended the Rider War timeline to be closer to 5-ish years. Eragon has more time to mature, Arya has more time to heal. They start a relationship around a year before the war ends, and while I have a basic idea of how it comes about I’m not ready to put it into writing for you all yet. There’s about a year or so of Arya and Fírnen remaining behind in Alagaësia to help with reconstruction and reintegration of the elves into the world without starting an incident while Islanzadí heals, and then they join Eragon and Saphira at the Rider School. At this point, even a year on, the school is still in some phases of construction and only has maybe a dozen students + their dragons, possibly less. Everyone is still trying to settle in to the new reality, and Eragon is still getting used to the admin role he now has to take.
I’ll probably post more about MIC!Eragon and Arya’s relationship, especially as it is post-war. In the meantime, take this. It’s a little spicy, so fair warning. Cheers mates!)
~~~
Eragon scrubbed his hands through his hair, frustration edging his voice. “Remind me why I agreed to host this?”
Invitations to the Rider School’s gala were strewn across his desk, addresses of dignitaries from the chiefdoms surrounding Mount Arngor paperclipped to each. He held in his hand three different menus in various stages of translation and tweaking, trying his best to work through the grammar of the local dialect and please the varied dietary restrictions of all in attendance. An itinerary draft sat incomplete under a handful of pens, half abandoned until the Rider’s leader could muster up the focus to finish it.
For all the good will these events garnered, they always brought in more paperwork than he thought they were worth.
“Because people tend to get nervous when dragons and Riders begin massing in one place and it looks like no one knows what’s going on.” Eragon leaned back in his chair and tilted his head to watch Arya across the room. His mate was cross legged on the floor, a portion of Fírnen’s saddle in her lap while the rest spilled out like a comically large sea turtle. A half-threaded leather needle dangled from her lips as she closely examined a patch of torn stitching to judge the length she needed. “And it’s one of the fastest ways to show that yes, the Riders have leaders in you and Saphira, and that you both aren’t as scary as they might think.”
From outside the exterior porthole a chuffing snort signaled Saphira’s amusement. That anyone would dare to put her majestic yet terrifying visage into the same league of frightening as Eragon’s squishy, scaleless frame was laughable.
Down below the cliffside, the sounds of Fírnen’s playful growls as he entertained a handful of yearlings and hatchlings rumbled up the mountain. The fledgling Riders and their dragons were on a day of leave after a month of hard work and lessons, leaving Eragon, Saphira, Arya, and Fírnen time to catch up on the tasks that went by the wayside during instruction.
Eragon felt Saphira yawn wide, barbed tongue curling at its tip. His jaw twinged slightly as her teeth clicked together. Don’t forget your meeting this afternoon. Saphira stretched out one massive paw and began fastidiously cleaning the scales around her claws, irritated by the stone dust from construction that still remained in the nooks and crannies of the mountain’s halls. I will fly you down, but after that I must take the hatchlings to hunt.
Thank you. I won’t forget. Eragon assured as he set the menus down and picked up the draft of the event itinerary, clicking his pen in distracted boredom. As he worked, Arya finished her repairs and began the process of conditioning the rejoined pieces, working neatsfoot oil into the saddle with a soft rag.
Saphira’s deep breathing outside signaled her shift to a light doze in the afternoon sun. The sound was soothing, lulling her Rider into a state of half focused haze.
Once again drifting away from his work, Eragon’s eyes snagged on the invitation’s request of a black tie dress code. It sent his mind to other places, and, the corners of his lips curling into a mischievous smile, he let his chair turn again.
“You know…” Arya looked up to see her mate tapping his pen against his lips. “There is one thing I don’t mind about these fancy events though.” Mirth danced in his eyes, along with something a little more, as he lifted his gaze from the papers in his hand.
The elf set the saddle aside, wiping her hands on the rag. This should be interesting. He only acted this innocent for two reasons, one distinctly more alluring than the other. “Oh really?” She stood and stretched, fingers linked above her head as she lifted onto her toes. “And what would that be?”
“You.” Eragon broke into a blush tinged smile and set the itinerary aside, turning his chair fully to face her. “I will never get tired of seeing you all dressed up.”
Arya let out a soft laugh and approached him. His gaze boldly roamed over her form, still marveling years on that she was his and he was hers. “Really! I love you no matter what you wear. But there’s something about the way you can pull off a black dress….” Eragon practically purred in approval as the elf settled into his lap, her knees on either side of his hips. The tang of leather conditioner wrapped around Arya’s earthy scent, reminding him of their time in the field and nights around watch fires, working on their gear and simply enjoying each other's company. It was just so simply her, so entwined in his mind with who she was, that it made his heart flutter. “What will you wear this time?”
Arya cocked her head coyly, braid brushing against her back as she shifted her weight to his knees with a thoughtful hum. “I don’t know. You pick.” A sly grin touched her lips. “Within reason, of course.”
Eragon leaned back, mind awhirl with possibilities. Almost subconsciously his hands had found Arya’s sides to steady her on her perch. As he mulled over the choice she had given him, his thumbs rubbed small circles against her ribs, eliciting a pleased sigh that danced in his ears. She leaned into his touch, content.
“Hmm...I think…” An image solidified in Eragon’s imagination, bringing back that hooded eye grin as he went a step further and imagined it covering less of his mate’s body and more of his bedroom floor. “Black dress. Mid length. Something backless.”
Arya huffed a quiet laugh, her smirk suddenly tinged with a tiny twist that he couldn’t quite place. Awkwardness? “Love...we’re trying to make friends here, not send them running for the other side of the continent.”
It took a long, long moment for Eragon to realize her meaning. With a slight pang of guilt his grin drooped, and in quiet apology he slipped his hands under the soft material of his mate’s shirt. Calloused fingers slid up her back, ghosting over the multitude of scars that still decorated her skin, as he pulled her down to him until their foreheads touched.
“I’m sorry.” He murmured. He could feel the uptick in her heart rate through her skin, the warmth of her breath against his cheek as he massaged the silky rifts below her shoulder blades. “I’m sorry. You’d think after all this time I’d remember. They’re so much a part of you that I–”
Arya silenced him, brushing her lips against his. The contact flushed warmth down from his cheeks to his throat and over his chest. “I like that you forget.” Her smile feathered against his skin as she shifted her body closer to his and pulled away from the light kiss. “I think it’s one of the sweetest things you do.”
Relieved, Eragon smiled back. Taking one of his mate’s hands from where she had braced against his shoulder, he pressed lips to her palm in one last apology before returning his grip to her sides. The feeling of warm, bare skin beneath his fingertips and the new position of her hips had him quickly distracted again, and he soon found himself itching to continue their banter. “Well...what about me, then?”
“What about you?”
“What should I wear for the gala?”
Arya hummed quietly, teasing her fingers down his chest. “It’s black tie, isn’t it?” Eragon nodded in confirmation, doing his best to keep from moving beyond the gentle dance of his fingers against the elf’s sides. She was always more composed than he during these little games, to the point that the Rider’s leader found himself pushing his limits to better match her whenever they arose. “Well then. I say you should wear just your slacks and a tie.” She gently tapped the end of his nose before dragging her hands across the tightening muscles of his abdomen, nails lightly scraping through the material of his shirt. Her voice took on a low purr, rippling with a possessive edge from deep within her chest and sending tingles of anticipation across Eragon’s skin. “It doesn't say anything about wearing something along with it, does it not?”
Eragon raised his eyebrow, control cracking. His hands settled on her hips as she draped her wrists over his shoulders, pulling her closer. He could feel the heat between their bodies growing, pooling over their clothed skin. “Well, if it’s the dress code you’re insisting on, who am I to break the rules?” His mate grinned that little devilish smirk that set his heart pounding, fire dancing in her eyes as she leaned in closer. Eragon let his eyes drift closed, lifting away from the back of the chair to meet her–
And frowned in confusion when he felt her cheek brush his. The light touch was followed by a breathy whisper in his ear.
“You’re going to be late for your meeting with Blödhgarm and Telvi if you don’t hurry.”
Eragon opened his eyes to find Arya pulling away from reaching over his shoulder, the small clock he kept on his desk in her hand.
It read only eight minutes to two in the afternoon. He was supposed to be meeting the elves to go over plans for a new family housing addition at two o’clock sharp.
“Oh shit!”
Eragon bolted to his feet, unceremoniously dumping Arya off her perch on his lap. The elf couldn’t help but laugh as he dashed around the room, searching frantically for the plans Gerard had drawn up for him and the set of drafting tools necessary to make any adjustments. Outside Saphira similarly surged to her feet and shook herself. Her wings rustled like parchment as she unfurled them and stretched, ready to leap from the mountain shelf to the courtyard below.
I can see them nearing the gate. Saphira’s warning echoed in Eragon’s mind. You need to hurry, Little One.
I’m trying! I can’t find the damn plans! Eragon jerked his gaze from ripping apart a cluttered drawer of stationary when his mate gave a short, sharp whistle. Arya stood by the porthole with his messenger bag in hand, and wordlessly slipped the protected tube that held Gerard’s plans and the box of tools in when the man looked up. He let out a wordless cry of relief and hurried over, ducking his head and lifting his arm slightly to allow Arya to loop the strap down over his shoulder and settle the bag onto his hip.
“Where would I be without you?” Eragon asked, half sincere and half rhetorical as the elven Rider adjusted his shirt. He leaned in, hopeful and thrilled as always.
Still grinning, Arya allowed him to give her a quick kiss. Her hand lingered at his cheek, checking him over out of habit before swiping a few stray locks of his curling bangs away from his face. “In Carvahall, living a quiet life without dragons, elves, dwarves and Urgals.” Pleased that he was presentable, the elf gave him a kiss of her own before turning him to the waiting Saphira and giving him a push. “Now go! Fírnen and I are teaching Silas and Rakka some flying, so we’ll see you both at dinner.”
Eragon gave one last wave and tightened the saddle straps around his legs. With that, Saphira took two great strides and launched herself from the cliff.
#Modern Inheritance#inheritance cycle#eragon#modern inheritance stories#the cyclists#the inheritance cycle#arya#arya drottingu#saphira#firnen#post war MIC#post war#eragon/arya#eragon x arya#timeline extended#romance#teasing#arya being an absolute troll#eragon is a fool in love still but no longer a lovesick puppy#feeling is mutual for arya#ngl whenever i imagine these two together it's ALWAYS in a chair with arya on top??#iunno its just a Thing for them#Saphira and Firnen are polite and don't intrude#pairings#i really dont know what to do with the tags on this one#rider school#did i just make an accidental innuendo with that one??#i think i did oh no#oh nooooo
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The Mourning Save
Summary: After crash landing in the modern world, Oromis has to figure out a way to support the first person he's been stuck with in the last 100 years. What better way to do that with something easy like streaming? Everything is going well until he can't ignore the call to his own time anymore. What he didn't expect to happen though, was bringing along extra baggage.
Chapter 20
Galbatorix was scared. The king wasn't so invincible after all. The traps were an issue though, and the child, Elva was able to inform the group of the danger. Saphira offered to fly over, but as soon as she tried Elva had screamed that she wouldn't be fast enough. Next to you, Epona's stump of a tail twitched in agitation.
We are wasting time, we need to get through or else the Varden stand no chance of winning! Magic is useless in this cursed city and I'll bet the elves are having a fun time figuring that out.
Epona had addressed the group, and the spellcasters looked a little unnerved. You studied what you could from the little information given to you.
"It kinda sticks out, those things don't they? What if we stuff your swords inside them?"
In truth, you've only seen such a thing attempted I'm TV shows back home, but now was as good as any to pretend you were an actor in a made up fantasy world.
"What do you have in mind?" Oromis asked, keeping a close eye on you in case you got just a little too close to the death scythes.
"Your swords. The elven ones. We have enough to stuff in the mechanism if we use the ones that aren't the rider swords."
Every spellcaster laid their sword down at your feet. You examined the elven swords, and then laid yours down along with them. Blödhgarm, the odd furry looking elf stopped you before you could let go of your sword.
"As a rider," He began, "You out of us all need your sword, even if it is just an elven one."
You couldn't really argue with such a nice smelling, intoxicating man so you picked up your sword again.
"Get ready, as soon as the swords are in place you must run, all of you."
Using a variation of the teleportation spell Oromis had taught you, the swords swiftly disappeared from the ground, and you heard a nice sort of 'shnk' sound as they went into place with the mechanism.
Ready? You asked Epona, as you looked at her and her bright yellow eyes, and then to Oromis and Glaedr.
I am as ready as you are.
You would never get over how sweet Epona's voice sounded, and for a brief moment you thought that if this was the last thing you heard, you were glad it came from her.
"Now!"
The dragons jumped, and opened their wings. The elves shot off likewise and you kept pace with one of the last elves in the group. You could hear the mechanism struggle against the swords as it grinded against the odd material of elvish make. Elva, who was riding on Saphira, screamed.
"Faster! Move faster, all of you!"
Oh no.
Everyone in front of you moved faster and cleared the danger. Only you and one older looking spellcaster remained. You felt time slow as Oromis turned around to see you. He felt so far away. Epona felt so far away. Everything… Felt… so… far… away….
You could see Oromis mouth something, but you could hear no words. Suddenly a kick of adrenaline ran through your body as you heard the swords break. You jumped, and you curled into a ball as your body skidded the last section of the hallway just in time for those death blades to catch the other elf you kept pace with. An odd glow surrounded her body, her wardes, you thought. She was pulled away just in time for them to break.
You made it. Glaedr and Oromis made it. Eragon and Saphira made it. Epona made it. You were so close to finally facing the king.
"Are you okay? Did the blades catch you?"
Oromis had stopped kneeled down to you to make sure you were alright, and helped you to your feet. Epona was also fussing over you too, but you only patted her nose.
"I am fine, let's go, we are so close already!"
The other elf whose wards broke looked pale and sick, yet they stood as you and the group made it to the large throne room doors. A lot of ancient drawings were etched into its surface, and you wished that you knew the stories behind it. Just then, as you went to open the main door, another opened, and the spellcasting elves looked hypnotized as they hopelessly marched inside it. No matter what you or Eragon or Arya did, they were completely unfazed as they were taken. Elva was surprised too, since the attack didn't hurt them, she didn't know it would happen. Regardless, you still had top open the door and face the king. With three dragons at your back, a wise elf at your side, and a farm boy who was too thick skulled for his own good, you finally opened the doors.
Inside was dark, and it took a moment for your eyes to adjust but once they did you were marveled at how massive this room was. You could make out the throne in the middle and waving black curtains behind it, but nothing else. That was when everybody's minds were attacked by hopeless, angry, babbling Eldunarí. Everyone stood motionless as they fought to protect their minds. More than once you would have to curl your mind so that only a fraction of you remained, but a friendly Eldunarí would always come to help fend the other off, resulting in a disgusting circle of attacks. It only got worse when you could feel rather than see Oromis stiffen. If he wasn't careful, an attack would definitely kill him here despite the wards he had in place. To the far side of you, you could see a woman chained to the wall. You assumed she was Nasuada, as Eragon had to confirm she hadn't pledged herself to him.
"What a pleasure to finally meet all of you here. Eragon Shadeslayer, Arya Drotinggu. Even you, Oromis. I'm glad you survived so that we could talk… properly about joining my vision for the future of Alagaësia. Relent in your mental attacks and let's have a proper chat."
"I have not changed my answer since Gil'ead, I will not join you."
"Not even if I could cure your ailment?"
Silence was the only response. Galbatorix again focused his gaze on the whole of the group.
The king stood from his throne just as a few candles lit on either side of him showing two children, a boy and a girl who looked very scared.
Umaroth, stop! There are children here! You pleaded to the Eldunarí, but they continued the mental battle. Glaedr spoke to them, his voice was louder and had more weight than yours.
Stop, if only for a moment Umaroth. There are hatchlings in danger!
There was a pause in the voices that overtook your mind. Galbatorix was calling off his Eldunarí.
You understand what we must do, regardless of the hatchlings' life here. If there is a chance we Eldunarí will not miss it. The mental attacks from both sides ceased, and the king laid one hand on each of the childrens' shoulders holding them in place, and also, probably from running. He was playing the hostage card… and there is nothing you could do. The Eldunarí were right, regardless of these children's lives the fate of Alagaësia mattered more. Just as you came to that conclusion the king turned his attention finally, to you.
"And you… I heard of you. A war general, a strategist unlike any of the elves! Think of what you could accomplish for the whole of Alagaësia, if you only side with me." His voice boomed in mock praise, echoing throughout the room.
"For the longest time your identity was a secret not even my most skilled could figure out. Almost like you appeared out of thin air."
There was a pause.
"But, luck would have it, you revealed yourself to me, as you threw Murtagh off of Thorn. Who knew it would be you who would reveal something you kept so secret?" He smiled. But it wasn't directed at you.
"You were smart to hide your name. That, I bet, much to your comfort has not been found." He turned his attention to your partner of mind and soul, who at the moment was rumbling with quiet, fierce growls. "And there is Epona of course. I knew of only three dragon eggs in existence, and just like you… Weasel, she appeared out of nowhere."
You are not all knowing as you seem, coward.
Epona was sharing her thoughts with the group and her fierce voice cut through clearly. She hated Galbatorix hiding behind children just as much as you did.
"Ah, but I am not the only one who brought a child here today."
Looking over to Elva, she was frozen in place and couldn't speak. That part of Eragon's plan was a failure, too. Nobody could cast spells either, or the mad Eldunarí would attack again.
"But my issue lies with The Weasel."
With a flick of his finger, your feet slid across the floor against your will, and you were brought face to face with Galbatorix. Oromis was quick to action, but was overcome with one of his attacks instantly, and by the looks of it he had bitten his tongue.
"If you answer me, Weasel, I will heal him. This I will swear even in the ancient language."
Glaedr let out a roar that vibrated the ground, and from behind Galbatorix, leathery curtains shifted, to reveal a black scaled body. Shruikan only growled, but that was all the black dragon needed to drown out Glaedr completely. Galbatorix remained unaffected and continued to speak.
"What are the words you spoke when you battled Murtagh?"
"I don't l- I don't know."
There was a pained sound heard from behind you. You didn't need to look to know who it came from.
"I didn't speak words!" You switched to the ancient language now, in a desperate attempt to get him to understand.
"I didn't speak any words! The spell was founded on emotions and images! You hear me speak this truth! Heal him!"
The noises from behind you stopped, and you mentally felt for Oromis to make sure he was okay. You felt him connect to you, briefly, but all you could feel was pain. A door opened, revealing Murtagh and Thorn. Murtagh said something about a broken door, but you were more worried about what exactly Murtagh was here for. At the sight of Epona he seemed to stop, and he must have connected the dots and figured out that you were the one who sparta kicked him ten thousand feet in the air.
"I would like to see a demonstration, if you don't mind…"
Your body moved against your will, and then you were facing off against Murtagh, who already had his rider sword drawn.
"And… if I refuse to fight Murtagh?"
Nothing was said, but Oromis was already facing another attack, but instead of completely falling like he had done the first time, now he used his sword to keep himself upright. His eyes were locked onto you and his message was clear.
Do not do this to save me. There is much more at stake.
No, you refused to see a future without him in it. You readied your elvish sword
"Fear not, Oromis, I won't let them kill each other. They are irreplaceable."
Then, at once Murtagh attacked.
It was much like before, you keeping your distance as he gained ground. The only difference was that you didn't have an immediate threat of plummeting to the earth. With each clash of swords, the harsh attacks would be felt all the way up your arm. Your sword flew out of your hand, and he slashed your arm open. It healed a few seconds later.
"Again." Commanded the king.
Your swords clashed again, and this time when Murtagh came close enough he spoke to you, briefly, and out of listening rang from the king.
"Damn you, if you could have only waited one more day. Just one day. I would have been able to save her."
You had enough strength to push Murtagh away and break the hold his sword had. You looked over to Nasuada who was currently chained down and had been kept here and tortured. He was trying to save her? You let the swords clashed again, shifting from defense to attack.
"We had no choice. You must understand this, Murtagh."
"As much as I understand the need to kick me off of Thorn above the clouds, Weasel. Be ready."
Your swords broke away again, and clashed. You gained ground, and were able to use your magic to have your sword go through Murtagh's body, keeping him unharmed.
"What an inventive way to create spells. Again."
This time, when the swords clashed, something felt… different… off about Murtagh.
Be ready. You told Epona, and the rest. When Murtagh was getting ready to attack, something changed. Instead of attacking you, he turned on Galbatorix, and spoke a… word that left your mind as soon as you heard it. The entire room erupted into action. The Eldunarí from both sides attacked, and you could see Arya hoist the odd elven weapon used to kill dragons. Shruikan began to move, and the dragons jumped to action. Epona helped Saphira and Thorn hold the black dragon down as Glaedr held one of the black dragon's wings in his jaws. Shruikan roared and breathed a white black fire which Arya ran through and plunged the weapon into Shruikan's eye.
You had moved closer to Eragon and Oromis, but had to rapidly turn your body in order to avoid being slashed by the white, almost clear sword the king used. You were quick enough to block the second strike with your elvish sword but now you were on the floor, fiercely holding off the transparent sword from impaling you. Oromis came to your side instantly, and gold clashed against the clear looking sword. It gave you enough time to get up, but the distant feeling of mad, babbling Eldunarí in your mind kept you almost paralyzed. You could feel an odd pull coming from Eragon, and he had just come up to defend Oromis against Galbatorix. Oromis went down again, using his sword as a crutch as he kneeled, another one of his attacks taking over his body. You were just in time to block one of Galbatorix's swings. You stared down the king, as your swords were locked.
You felt at that moment, the Eldunarí from your side pool energy around Eragon. You didn't know what spell he was casting, but even Epona was helping him. The king's eyes blew wide open as his sword broke away from you, giving you the opportunity to thrust your sword into his gut. He didn't seem fazed though.
"What- what have you done? What have you done to me!"
"Make you understand." Responded Eragon.
The king looked completely distraught, so you grabbed the transparent sword from where he had dropped it. He didn't deserve it, after all.
"Be not!" Screamed Galbatorix.
Several things happened at once. First, Saphira, Epona, and Glaedr were pulled by a force toward you. Second, the attack that had previously affected Oromis had ceased, and he had tackled you to the ground as the both of you were also pulled by the same force toward the door. Third, an Atomic bomb went off. Well, it felt like one, as all you could see was pure white. Your vision was burned, but you could smell smoke and feel rubble fall around you. Your only source of sound was a sharp ringing, but that began to dull as your vision returned to you. Oromis had ended up using his shield to protect the both of you from various debris. It looked like he was speaking, but you couldn't make out what he was saying. Regardless, he pulled you to your feet, and to your astonishment, the transparent looking sword was still in your hands and it felt… right.
Oromis was pulling you to where Glaedr and Epona lay and it looked like Glaedr had done the same as Oromis had and shielded Epona from the worst of the blast. By now some of your hearing was returning, and Oromis was ready to throw you onto Glaedr when you remembered something vital.
"The children! Where are the kids?"
You ripped yourself from his grip, and raced back to the throne room. It was being barely held together and you knew it would fall any moment. You saw Arya bolt into a different room, and Eragon was with Saphira… somewhere. You notice the two children who hadn't moved from their position on the throne steps. They looked dusty and scared but were otherwise unhurt. You approached them slowly, hands outstretched.
"Let me help you. Come to me please, and I can help you find your parents."
They seemed to come out of whatever spell kept them still, and ran to you. You held them close to you as Oromis came up from behind you. The children acted scared, and hid themselves from his view.
"Don't worry, he won't hurt you. He will help you find your parents."
The room groaned and you shared a concerned look with Oromis. You handed him the boy and Oromis held him close, shielding the boy's head as best he could as you did the same with the girl. The both of you ran out of the building through an opening in the wall. Glaedr and Epona followed as you and Oromis looked around the houses closest to the citadel. The children squirmed in your hands, so you let them go and watched as they raced to a house, where you assumed their parents were. It was confirmed when you saw a man and a woman hug them close, and then look at you. Both you and Oromis bowed your heads toward them, and then continued to your dragons.
Thorn and Murtagh are getting away! Said Epona, as she urged you to climb up so she could take off. In the air you could see Eragon and Saphira following Thorn but it didn't look like they were in battle. You looked to Oromis for guidance.
"We will follow, but do not engage."
The two of you were flying through the air in seconds, following the red dragon until he landed in the outskirts of Urû'baen, using hills as cover. You and Oromis dismounted, meeting Eragon and Murtagh just as they had finished speaking to each other. Murtagh took a generous distance backward as Oromis came into his view.
"I suppose an apology for cutting you with my sword will do no good?" Asked Murtagh.
"You did what you had to do, just as I would have killed you given the chance."
There was an uncomfortable pause.
"Elves don't tend to hold the longest of grudges. You can be easily forgiven when you choose to take up instruction on becoming a proper rider."
Thorn bowed his head and responded for Murtagh mentally.
Thank you Ebithril, but we want to travel the land until we don't wish to cover the grass in blood.
That didn't sound so friendly to you, but Oromis was unfazed.
"We live long lives. Whenever you are ready the option is open."
Murtagh flew off after that. Epona still held anger toward Thorn for attacking Oromis, but you hoped she would eventually let her anger cool. Then, Eragon spoke.
"Murtagh… told me something that I think you, ebithril, The Weasel, and the Eldunarí should hear."
Eragon then explained about… the word you heard. He had to speak it three times for you and Oromis to finally understand its meaning. When you did, an uncomfortable sense of power overtook you. This word could change every spell about the ancient language if you let it.
The next few months were hard, Eragon, Oromis, and you flew around Alagaësia, helping the cities and crushing small rebellions as the new nation was securing its place. Being led by Nasuada you thought it was in good hands. Once Galbatorix was defeated, you immediately remembered the eggs. You hadn't gone to get them just yet, as the three of you had no idea what to do with them. You had the liberty to take Umaroth and the other Eldunarí to Vrael's last resting place, where you had placed his sword down in a sort of memorial.
No. Said Umaroth, You keep the sword. It will do well in your hands to clear it's name rather than gather dust here. Take the sword and make it your own.
You felt more than honored. The sword, which was named Islingr, felt more at home in your hand than the elven sword did.
When everything for Alagaësia could be done from you and Oromis, you both headed to Ellesméra as Eragon still had to serve Nasuada. Valdr chose to stay with you, and you gave the rest of the Eldunarí to Eragon.
When you and Oromis entered Ellesméra, the months that you were gone had left like years, as with the death of Queen Islanzadí left the political state in constant passive aggressive turmoil.
Frustration coated your face as you were sitting in Oromis' hut. The plans and papers on the table were overwhelming you.
"Does it really take you all this long to choose a ruler? Why can't you just turn to a democracy and make it somewhat easier?"
Oromis laughed from behind you as he poured you a cup of blueberry tea. You gulped it down and enjoyed the burn.
"Usually we vote them in, plus it would take way too long to change our political stances, so a monarch we must be."
He took a seat next to you and sipped his tea way slower, probably also enjoying it more as well. you decided this was the perfect time to branch a subject you both didn't speak about, as much as you should.
"Have you ever thought about using the... word... to erase your issue with magic?"
He stopped drinking and put down his cup.
"I have. And I want you to realize something before we continue this conversation. The spell I used to escape the trap the forsworn put me in Glaedr in is what excellerated my... affliction. That can not be fix because, it is as your people would say... Genetic."
He paused, took a sip, and then continued.
"As for the magic, I am sure that can be fixed with the... word, however I am reluctant. I have learned so much because of what happened, It is difficult to get rid of something that has been at the core of your being for so long."
"Is that a no?"
"It is undecided. But if one day I want it to be fixed, I will ask nobody else but you. Does that answer your question?"
It did, so you reverted back to your previous conversation as if nothing had happened.
"There is Arya that must be taught as well…."
You looked to Oromis to see his reaction. He was as calm as ever.
"Yes, who was to guess the last dragon egg would hatch for her?"
You kept your eyes on the plans in front of you. With the capture of Ceunon, the elves wanted to make it their territory. You had to fight tooth and nail to keep the city from being completely in the elves' control and instead offered that it should be a mixed city of humans and elves.
"And they keep pressuring her to take her mother's position." Continued Oromis.
Your hands froze.
"Of course I am against such a thing, especially because she is so young." He continued. You gave a breath of release.
"However…"
You side-eyed him and he laughed.
"Just listen. I've been thinking-"
"Oh I bet you have."
"That I should take over the position, so Arya can learn to be a dragon rider properly without the duties of a queen holding her down."
You thought it over, but it made you uncomfortable.
"You want to be a king?"
"No, no dragon rider would ever want such power, but I am old enough and have enough influence to hold it. At least until they can agree on a proper monarch."
You thought about it. Oromis as the elven monarch.
"Wouldn't that mean you would need to move away from The Crags of Tal'naeír and into the city?"
That made him stop completely.
"It… is a small price to pay for my people's stability."
You could feel how much that hurt him to say, and you couldn't help but laugh.
"Oh yes, I could see it now: all of the houses coming to you for their problems. A former hermit ruling a magical forest! It's Storybook worthy, Oromis."
You both had your laugh for a few minutes, but Oromis was serious about this proposal.
"I don't suppose…" He began, lifting your hand up to his lips and leaving a small kiss.
"I could possibly convince you to agree to this idea?" Another kiss, this time it was placed higher.
"Why are you bribing me? I will follow you down whichever path you take for however long I am able."
He looked at you, with a questioning look. Valdr filled your head with an image. You, with a circlet crown, sitting next to Oromis.
"Wait! How does this in any way make me a ruler? I'm a human, won't that like, ruffle some feathers?"
You felt Valdr rumble with disapproval.
"You are not just a human. You have traveled worlds, learned skills in weeks, created bonds with all creatures of Alagaësia. Above all, you are a dragon rider. If they disrespect you because of what you were born as then they disrespect me, and I will not take that lightly."
You gave a defeated huff.
"Your position is only temporary." You clarified.
"Well, technically, all rulers' positions are temporary."
You rolled your eyes.
"My attitude is rubbing off on you. Fine, run for office, Oromis Thrándurin. Lead the elves into a new, accepted age and all that jazz."
"There is also… the issue of your… visions."
Eugh, this was not something you wanted to talk about. Each day was a struggle to stay grounded here. You had spoken to Valdr about it, and he thought he had found a way to keep you here but since it was untested he didn't want to make promises.
"I'm aware of what they mean Oromis… I just… don't want to leave you know? Nothing is waiting for me back at my home. I- I don't have anything there…"
You were almost hysterical, you didn't want to leave, to abandon your life here would mean to abandon who you were.
"You keep fighting them, and I know how much pain they cause. You are not from here that I cannot change. Your only choice is to fall asleep tonight and let Valdr do what he can. Whatever happens, will happen."
"Could you at least just lay with me? Just so that I can- I don't know- I won't fight it, but I just want you there."
Oromis had agreed without question, and as you finally stopped fighting, you heard a distant melody beginning that was coming from Valdr. It felt like a story, a journey, a plea. You let yourself go then, crying, but feeling complete with Oromis in your arms.
Whatever happens, will happen. And who else could say they saved an entire continent with a dragon that was bonded to you?
Eragon has left Alagaësia with the Arya and the eggs, and is looking to lead the new rider generation. With Oromis' guidance of course, but it has been a few years since the eggs have left, as well as the dwarves and Urgals being added to the dragon pact. You ran this through your head several times as you traversed the streets of Tierm.
It looks so different. Do you think he will remember us? You were mentally speaking with Epona as she waited outside the city. She was too big to hide so she sort of just chilled at the gate. Kids would bet each other on who would be the bravest and touch the mighty dragon. She wouldn't hurt any of the kids, but she did enjoy spooking them with puffs of smoke. Whichever child was brave enough, she would let them climb onto the saddle, and sometimes, if you were gone for long enough, she would speak with them.
I don't know if he will remember you, considering you hid yourself for the better part of your stay but I wish you luck.
With Islingr safely at your back, you stepped inside Otis' bar. You tried to enter quietly, but now that your face was well known, it was kind of difficult. Everybody stared as you took a seat at the bar and waited to be served. The loud talks and arguments that you were able to hear outside were lost. Everything was quiet, and you kind of just wanted to leave and never come back.
Do not chicken out now, not after we spent all this time traveling here.
You jumped as the door to the back opened and then closed.
"So sorry for the wait, we ran out of-"
Otis stopped short as he made eye contact with you. He was different now, he had a limp and used a walking stick.
"To whom do I owe the pleasure of serving the Elven Monarch?"
You cringed. After this you could totally see why the elves stayed in Du Weldenvarden.
"You knew me, before I was a ruler back when I was just some starving beggar off the street with an odd looking pot."
That jogged his memory.
"Weasel?"
You nodded, and shared about how you kept Epona in the pot, how you then hid her in the satchel you stole, and how you and her hunted for food when she was old enough. How you trained with the elves, and how you helped with the siege in Ceunon and Gil'ead. This delighted Otis, who, upon a closer inspection, was older than he looked. He must be close to his end and that made your stomach pool with dread. He wouldn't be the last you would watch age and die.
"To think, I had someone that great, serving tables."
You shared in his laughter.
"I wanted to come and thank you personally, when everything cooled down. I won't be able to leave Du Weldenvarden for quite a bit now, but I am glad you were still here. It is nice to share my story with someone who was here from the beginning."
He had given you a drink, 'on the house' and you downed it, out of respect.
"Thank you, for visiting my dingy asablishment, I'm sure no other bar will be able to compete with me now." Otis gave a belly laugh, and then you said your goodbyes. Before you completely went out the door you whispered a small blessing, for Otis and his business.
May you prosper, for as long as you live, and if you wish, even after your death.
Such few blessings you give, and yet you never forgot this bartender. Glaedr's voice filled your head, as his Eldunarí was always with you, along with Valdr, but he was quiet most of the time and preferred to observe.
You climbed onto Epona, and watched as the kids waved her off. She gave them a loud roar goodbye which made them scatter. It was hard holding back your chuckle. You made it back to Ellesméra, but you still had to get used to… well everything. Walking through, what used to be Islanzadí's house felt odd, as each portrait of the rulers felt alien to you. At the end of the hallway, there was Oromis' portrait. Somehow they had captured each detail perfectly. Your portrait was next to his, but you refused to look at it. You didn't want to know how less perfect you were compared to elves. You made your way to the main chambers, where a long dining table was freshly plated with… vegan options. You still had a hard time adjusting to their diet. Oromis was sitting at the table, both of his hands full. Two tiny bodies were held close to his chest, asleep.
"Good you're here. Take one, please. I am starving."
You gently moved one baby from his dominant hand, and watched as he held the other one while he ate. You took a seat next to him and watched as the baby breathed and how it would slightly move in its sleep. Twins, you had twins. They didn't have any defying features about them, they were too small for that. As you held the baby in your hand, you couldn't help but take a deep breath.
You could smell the fresh air, and you knew you were home.
——————————————
Ah it's over! It's ended! Thank you so much for liking each chapter and I hope the ending was alright. Thank you so much for reading.
Tags: [@overlordspirit18] [@raiikuii] [@panic-based-riot]
#inheritance cycle#the inheritance cycle#oromis#oromis x reader#The Mourning Save#my writings#Wolf's fics
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Hatchling: New IC fic, WIP.
Blödhgarm’s soft voice called out to her. “Drottningu,” he beckoned, not moving his eyes from the hollow.
Squatting beside him to gaze into the depths of the tree, she was surprised to find a pair of eyes already staring back at her. Two large, very familiar brown eyes.
Within the oak stood a baby boy, at most a little over a year old. He had small ears that grew to points, and softly slanting eyes that conveyed clear terror within. Small sticks and detritus had accumulated in the child’s curly brown hair, and he wore nothing but an overly large tunic, so long that it reached past his feet.
Spotting the latest arrival, the boy let out a frightened cry and shuffled further into the hollow, his back pressing hard against the internal wood of the tree.
“Hello sweetheart,” she breathed, moving down to his level and doing her best to seem non-threatening.
At the sound of her voice, the soft brown eyes materialized once more, his head now cocked to the side with reluctant curiosity.
Extending a tendril of thought, Arya whispered quietly within the recesses of the mind before her. Eragon? She asked. The responding brush of his consciousness confirmed what she already suspected.
Also known as the fluff-packed piece where Eragon gets turned into a toddler temporarily, and adorable chaos ensues.
If you’re interested, the link is right Here!
#hatchling#eragon#inheritance cycle#arya drottningu#the inheritance cycle#arya#christopher paolini#murtagh#saphira#ic fic#eragon shadeslayer
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“the moment he located the distinctive strain of wild music that marked Blödhgarm’s thoughts, he narrowed his focus to the elf alone.”
lol, I love that Blödhgarm’s thoughts have music associated with it.
Also: the word ‘distinctive’ makes me think of Eliot Spencer:
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It's a perfect night to get lost in the woods & change your name to something the wolves can pronounce.
Blödhgarm, probably
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Where Paths Diverge
read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/rDbv9zI
by StoryDreamBeliever
What if Eragon had captured Murtagh after the Battle of Dras Leona....
“Swear to me now, in the Ancient Language, that you will not use magic against me, or the Varden, or any of their allies, and that you will not attempt to escape us.”
Eragon hardened his expression, knowing that Murtagh had to believe him, or it wouldn’t work. Murtagh had to believe that Eragon was willing to kill his dragon, or he’d call his bluff.
And was it a bluff? Even Eragon wasn’t certain. Could he stand by and let Thorn die? He didn’t know, but he didn’t want to find out either.
“Either you swear,” Eragon panted, his voice dead and unfeeling, “Or we let Thorn die. And then perhaps I’ll be kind, and kill you as well.”
Murtagh thrashed again, a desperate cry emanating from his throat. He was wriggling like an animal in a trap, and tears joined the blood and dirt on his face. Eragon felt each heartbeat in his own chest, fear and pain twisting together.
"Eragon, hurry," Arya interjected in his thoughts, "Thorn is fading."
...After destroying the gates at Dras Leona and wounding Thorn severely, Aren has enough energy left in it to pursue Murtagh and Thorn out into the plains and take them captive.
Words: 3240, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English
Fandoms: The Inheritance Cycle - Christopher Paolini
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Categories: Gen
Characters: Murtagh Morzansson, Thorn (Inheritance Cycle), Eragon Shadeslayer, Saphira (Inheritance Cycle), Nasuada (Inheritance Cycle), Arya Dröttningu, Roran Garrowson, Blödhgarm (Inheritance Cycle), Galbatorix (Inheritance Cycle)
Relationships: Murtagh Morzansson & Eragon Shadeslayer, Murtagh Morzansson & Thorn, Arya Dröttningu & Eragon Shadeslayer, Roran Garrowson & Eragon Shadeslayer, Murtagh Morzansson & Nasuada, Eragon Shadeslayer & Nasuada, Saphira & Eragon Shadeslayer, Roran Garrowsson & Murtagh Morzansson
Additional Tags: Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Implied/Referenced Torture, Psychological Trauma, Mind Control, Reluctant Captors, Uneasy Allies, Angst, Hurt No Comfort, necessary evils, Blood and Injury, Hostage Situations, Forced Mind Reading, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Enemies to Friends, Family Angst, Brother Feels, Empathy, Binding Oaths, Oath Slavery, Seizures, Dragons, change of heart, Heartache, War, Difficult Decisions, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence
read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/rDbv9zI
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