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murtagh-thorn · 6 years

Text

Safe & Warm

Pairing: Murtagh x Rider!Reader

Summary: Murtagh keeps the reader safe and warm on a stormy day.

A/N: D/N: dragon's name. I tried to keep the reader as nondescript and gender neutral as possible. Thank you for the read and comments/notes/reblogs are greatly appreciated. If you want to make a fic request or stay updated on my Inheritance Cycle fanfic writing, my inbox is always open. I also love talking about the Inheritance Cycle if you just wanna come say hey. You can also read this fic on AO3.

You hadn’t meant to stay out for as long as you did. You’d seen the rolling grey clouds in the distance, casting an eerie shadow over the training grounds that were part of Eragon’s Riders Academy. In spite of, or perhaps because of, the fact that you’d been an accomplished Rider for many years now, coming across a maneuver you just couldn’t pin bothered you to the point of obsession. You had been one of Eragon’s first students and were considered a senior Rider by the younglings at the Academy, as was your dragon, D/N. Many of the Riders and their dragons had retreated indoors. Eragon had called for you to do the same hours ago, but you just wanted to try it a couple more times. You almost had it. And since your dragon was just as determined as you and hadn’t been bothered by the prospect of getting a little wet, you had persevered.

You were now proud to say you had set out to attempt your goal. You hadn’t mastered the maneuver by any means, but you at least weren’t failing epically. But you were also more than a little wet. Drenched was more like it. As you’d ridden your dragon back into their cavern that connected to your quarters, D/N had given their cavern a thorough rinsing.

You slid off your dragon’s back with a sigh, ready to put on some warm, dry clothes—

Shit!

What’s wrong? D/N asked.

I was supposed to meet Murtagh in the library! Fly me over after I change and get a cloak?

D/N snorted. You’re on your own two-legged. I’ve gotten wet enough for the day. You dry off far more easily than I will.

Pleeeaaaase?

No. D/N settled down into the small, cushioned indent on the floor that served as their bed. They laid their head down and closed their eyes in a clear statement that they wouldn’t be moving anytime soon.

You sighed and quickly changed, wrapping a thick cloak around you and checking your reflection in the mirror. Although you had known Murtagh for a few years before becoming romantically involved with him, you still wanted to look your best. Not that he hadn’t seen you in embarrassing situations before—but you didn’t want to place yourself in one if you didn’t absolutely have to be. Such as showing up to meet him looking like a wet rag. Satisfied, you pulled your hood over your hair and made your way towards the door leading outside.

Being one of Eragon’s older students—most arrived young, around ten or twelve years of age, while you were in your early twenties with your dragon reaching their fifth year—you had traveled with him on several occasions to the court of High Queen Nasuada. There, the two of you and your dragons had run into Murtagh and Thorn four years ago. Eragon had told stories of his brother, who was enslaved to Galbatorix along with his dragon. Although he didn’t sugarcoat Murtagh’s deeds, he made sure all his students knew how Murtagh and Thorn had helped them in the end and had never worked for the king willingly. While you, D/N, Eragon and Saphira had been in Ilirea, you’d become close with the outcast Rider and dragon as they did numerous quiet deeds to remedy their reputation. They weren’t a favorite of the people by any means and of course there were those who still hated the pair; but they were in much better standing than they had been.

Eventually, Eragon and Saphira had convinced them to return to the academy with you to help train other Riders and dragons. After much convincing—particularly on your part—they’d accepted. The two of you and your dragons had become fast friends and now, here you were.

You were pulled back to the present as you braved the weather outside. Not only was it still raining, but the wind blew the raindrops underneath your cloak to soak your clothes. Holding your cloak closed with your hands only gave the wind room to shove aside your hood and soak your hair. You might as well have stayed in your wet clothes from earlier. There’d certainly been no point to toweling your hair.

Finally you made it to the library. A few other Riders, elves and some visiting dwarves meandered about. Otherwise, the place was mostly empty. You did your best to dry your soaked shoes on the mat and hung your dripping cloak on one of the wall hooks to dry. However, your hair, shirt and pants were still soaked through. Maybe if D/N hadn’t been so stubborn and flown you over, you wouldn’t have been in the elements for so long.

You sighed and began weaving through the bookshelves, tables and chairs to your and Murtagh’s favorite spot in the library. Several small cubby holes had been built in the walls with circular windows gazing outside onto the training grounds. You and the Red Rider had quickly grown a love of the large one in the leftmost corner of the library. More than big enough for two, the two of you loved to cuddle while reading your favorite books. Murtagh had told you earlier he’d found a new one he thought you’d be interested in. Although you weren’t sure how much he would want to cuddle given your sodden state.

You rounded the corner and caught sight of him. His boots were in a pile on the floor and he lounged inside the spacious circle, one elbow resting on a knee and looking pensively out the window at the falling sheets of rain. He struck a handsome profile in the lamplight and you merely gazed admiringly, nearly melting at the sight. The book he’d mentioned before sat invitingly on the side table. He was dressed in a maroon tunic (one of your favorites), brown trousers and gently bounced his socked feet. His soft, dark hair was pushed back in the front and you could just see the slope of his nose in front of the picturesque scenery outside the window. He painted such a peaceful picture. So of course, you had to ruin the moment with a sneeze.

Murtagh’s eyes snapped over to you and his gentle smile quickly disappeared. His eyes went round at your clothes and hair. “I see you didn’t take Eragon’s advice and come inside before the storm hit.” He shook his head and chuckled. “Typical.”

You shivered as the chilly air inside the library seeped through your bones. You rubbed your arms and smiled proudly. “D/N and I can do the maneuver now though.”

He laughed. “Well, at least the cold you’ll probably catch will be worth it.” He stood and gestured to the cubby.

You climbed in, surprised when he didn’t join you. “Where are you going?”

He ran a gentle finger over your cheek and you melted into his hand. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Just wait here.” He threw one last smile at you before disappearing through the bookshelves.

You shuddered and watched the rain fall and trees sway outside the window. It was even cooler by the pane of glass. You missed the warmth Murtagh’s body usually provided and hoped he’d be back soon.

The gentle pat-pat of the rain blowing against the window had nearly lulled you to sleep when you heard a voice calling your name and a hand gently shaking your shoulder. You turned to see Murtagh carrying a tray containing two steaming mugs. A thick blanket was draped over his shoulder.

“What is that?” you asked, nodding towards the mugs.

“[Tea/coffee/cocoa],” he replied. He set the tray on the table and wiggled into the cubby beside you.

You quickly grabbed the blanket and pulled it up to your chin. Murtagh chuckled as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and kissed your still damp hair. He twisted to hand you your drink, grab his own and retrieve the book. The drink flooded you with warmth instantly and you snuggled closer to Murtagh’s chest as he opened the book to the first page.

#inheritance cycle #inheritance cycle fanfic #murtagh morzansson #murtagh x reader #murtagh imagine #murtagh morzansson imagine #baby murtagh protection squad #it's pouring here #and curling up with murtagh and reading a book sounds divine

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dragonriderofalagaesia · 7 years

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Prologue: Darkness Rises, and the New Dawn

The dark sky erupted with flames and thunderous roars, from both beast and nature. Lightning cracked across the clouds, the silhouettes of dragons visible with every strike.

It was a battle between the Dragon Riders.

Many died on both sides; the rider and dragon falling from the sky and into the open ocean, tainting it with their blood. However, only one battle determined the fate of Alagaësia.

Eragon and Drakon.

The two riders flew on the backs of their dragons, one blue and the other white.

“It doesn’t have be this way!” Eragon pleaded, strained and weary from the battle.

“It does!” Drakon shouted, with a angered scowl. With his dragon, he charged at Eragon, the dragons now clawing and snapping at each other with talon and fang. The collision forced them to the side of the mountain, hurting both dragons and causing them to fall.

Eragon fell off Saphira’s back, landing hard on the rocky floor. He quickly raised his sword in time as Drakon brought down his own sword, igniting sparks the moment they clashed. “Brisingr!” Eragon shouted and blue fire burst from the sparks, forcing Drakon to retreat back.

Drakon was surprised that his master had enough energy to conjure magic. But then again, Eragon was the strongest of them all aside from Murtagh.

“It isn’t too late stop this,” Eragon breathed, as they circled each other.

“Really?” Drakon smirked, shaking his head. “Look above you…”

Eragon looked up at the sky, with tears now gleaming in his eyes as he watched his own students kill each other. He knew their names, and their dragons. He taught them everything he knew; everything that his father Brom, and mentor Oromis had taught him. With the wisdom of the Eldunarî, Eragon brought back the Dragon Riders, and within the course of thirty years flourished together. Now it was literally being destroyed before his very eyes.

It broke his heart, and perhaps a part of his soul.

How could this happen? He thought. What have I done?

“We are the Forsaken,” said Drakon. “And we’ve come too far to go back. Especially now that we are so close to victory.” He smiled, then held out his hand. “It’s not too late for you to join.”

“I’ve sworn an oath of peace,” said Eragon. “And so have you…yet you wish to destroy Alagaësia.”

“I do not wish to destroy it,” Drakon shook his head, with a light chuckle. “I wish to liberate it.”

“Liberate?” Eragon scowled in confusion.

“Yes,” Drakon nodded. “The peace you fought so hard for will not last forever. With each passing year, conflict arises. It’s only a matter of time before Alagaësia falls into another war. We must take control now, so that peace may last.” He spoke with a calmness, and such certainty that it baffled Eragon.

Despite Drakon’s many wrongdoings, Eragon couldn’t bring himself to despise him or even kill him. Among all his students, Drakon was different. He was special.

“So far you have fallen,” Eragon shook his head, as tears dripped down his face. “If it was something I did—I am sorry.”

“At first it was something you did,” Drakon admitted. “You killed Galbatorix. You killed my father.”

“Your father?” Eragon gasped, taken aback.

“He of course didn’t love my mother. He just needed an heir,” Drakon smirked, amused by the fact. “But my mother loved him. No longer under the king’s luxurious lifestyle, my mother was left to fend for herself and her son, who was born months after you killed his father. She then named her son Drakon…” He chuckled. “I was named after you, Eragon—as both of our names share the same meaning. My mother hoped that I would grow up hating you, and I did.” Drakon sheathed his sword. “But hate is painful…lonely and sad. When Elvira hatched for me at the ceremony, I thought it was a sign, that I will avenge my father and kill you.” Tears had begun to swell in his eyes, as this was the first time he spoke this out loud. “Then I met her…Dellanir. The moment I found out she was your daughter, I was going to kill her.” He sucked in a breath, as he grimaced. “But I fell in love with her instead.”

Eragon had to take a moment to process everything. He remembered the first time he met Drakon. He was fifteen years old, the same age Eragon was when he awakened Saphira. Drakon was distant in the beginning, but later questioned everything. He always wanted to know more, always reached out for knowledge and wisdom. He shown strength in magic, and swordsmanship. Eragon promised himself he’d never have a favourite, but knew it wasn’t true the moment he met Drakon.

“I see that you are in pain by this revelation,” Drakon sighed, as he stepped closer. “But rest assured…I don’t want revenge. Revenge is such a petty thing compared to what lies beyond.”

“And what is that?” Eragon gasped, as he felt his heart aching. “What lies beyond?”

“Let me show you,” Drakon held out his hand once more. “You’re right…it doesn’t have to be this way. Join me.”

Eragon looked at Drakon, seeing him in a much different light. A dim light, that put a distance between them. Eragon bowed his head, as he fell to his knees. He felt as though his heart was going to rip out of his chest, and his lungs were going to suffocate themselves. “I can’t,” he breathed, squeezing his eyes shut. He couldn’t join Drakon and he couldn’t kill him either. I can’t do this.

Eragon you must! Saphira shouted in his thoughts.

“I can’t,” Eragon shook his head, and looked up at Drakon. “I can’t.”

“I don’t want to kill you,” said Drakon. “I promised Dellanir I wouldn’t. And I won’t…because if I do then I truly am the son of Galbatorix.” Drakon then swiftly turned around and walked to the edge of the cliff. He jumped off and his white dragon caught him.

Eragon watched in despair as Drakon ascended higher into the sky to join the battle. Saphira then landed beside Eragon, wounded and growling in pain.

“Saphira, what have I done?” said Eragon.

You love him like he is one of your own, said Saphira. Just as I love Elvira.

They both watched what transpired above in the clouds, until it was over.

Then dawn broke on the horizon, the vast ocean reflecting the light. While there were seven dragon silhouettes flying toward the south, only three flew from above and descended closer to Eragon and Saphira. Among them was a red dragon.

The moment Thorn landed, Murtagh got off his back and walked toward Eragon. “Are you all right?” Murtagh asked, despite being in pain himself as he lost his right arm.

“Did you know?” Eragon asked. “Did you know he’s the son of Galbatorix?”

Murtagh was hesitant, but answered wordlessly with a slight nod.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“A son has no choice as to whose blood flows in their veins,” said Murtagh, with a strained expression. “I wanted to believe he was nothing like Galbatorix. I couldn’t be more wrong…he’s worse.”

“What must we do?” asked one of the dragon riders, a young woman with battle wounds of her own. “They’re going to destroy Alagaësia.”

“Perhaps we should just let them,” said the other dragon rider, a young man with a cloth tied over his left eye.

“How could you say that?” The young woman asked.

“Drakon bested the best of dragon riders,” said the young man. “Eragon let him go, and Murtagh lost an arm. And I lost my eye…my friends and my family.” He then mounted his black dragon. “Alagaësia was barely my home to begin with and I’m not going to die for it. Let’s go Nero.” The black dragon then took off, flying further northward.

“Zoran!” the young woman yelled.

“Let him go, Euriel,” said Murtagh. “If he’s a true dragon rider he will come to his senses…"

Euriel nodded, wiping her tears with her sleeve. “What about Alagaësia?”

“They have Arya,” said Eragon. “She will defend Alagaësia.”

“And Selena,” said Murtagh. “I think it’s time I’ve returned to her.”

“We should get going immediately,” said Euriel.

“I cannot go,” said Eragon, bowing his head in shame.

“What?” Euriel gasped. “But Master, how will we defeat Drakon without you?”

“I cannot kill my own student,” said Eragon.

“What of Dellanir?” Euriel asked. “She’s your daughter, and you’re just going to let her go?”

“She’s Drakon’s wife,” said Eragon. “She’s bound to him. There’s nothing I could do.”

“What will you do then?” Murtagh asked. “If you won’t come with us?”

“I will find a way to defeat the Forsaken,” Eragon answered, as he stood up and looked at the rising sun. “–without killing them. There has to be a way, where this doesn’t have to end in bloodshed.”

Despite the battle and the many lives lost, the sunrise was beautiful. The storm had ceased and for a moment the new dawn inspired hope.

#eragon #fanfic #alagasia #dragon #inheritance #murtagh #christopher paolini #dragon rider

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