What fate denied me

Setting: Quite a few decades after Galbatorix's defeat.

Story: A new order. A new threat. But old friendships are still strong.

Characters: Eragon, Saphira, Murtagh, Thorn, Arya... and more.

Pairing: Eragon/Arya

Note: English is not my native. First work for this fandom.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Inheritance Cycle, nor it's universe or characters. It all belongs to Christopher Paolini. May his pen stay sharp!

Prologue

The open sea. Seemingly endless plain of shining water bellow, with depth of dark mysteries. Lots of minstrels have sung of it's greatness and beauty, but for the weary travelers riding a termite above, it has long lost it's charm. All they longed for was a glimpse of solid ground.

It was lucky the weather held and they had had tail wind, other wise Thorn would have long ago depleted all his energy. He was terribly spent as it is, even though Murtagh kept pouring energy into him from time to time.

You don't have to do that. I'm fine. the red dragon assured him through their mental connection.

Yeah. And it's probably futile to remind you how useless your lying to me is...

Thorn snorted and Murtagh had to close his eyes briefly as their momentum carried him through the resulting smoke-ring. Even though the feeling was unpleasant, scratching the inside of his throat he couldn't help an involuntary grin spread across his face. There was nothing like being bonded with a dragon after all...

I'm sure it can't be that much far away. Thorn continued their mental exchange.

Murtagh frowned. He didn't wholly share the dragon's optimism. They've been flying for three days now, with no sight of any land, not even a morsel of an island.

At least you should stop and rest a little. he proposed.

I'd rather cover more distance in daylight. We could miss a smaller island in the dark.

Well, it's not a small island we're looking for now, is it?

Both of them became quiet after this. Frustration welled up inside Murtagh. When the two of them had gone into hiding after Galbatorix's death, they had wowed to themselves to never again let anything direct them from the outside ever again. They would be their own masters, and not puppets of another, be it person, circumstance, cause, destiny or emotion.

Yet here they were.

Right in the thick of it.

They only landed when the sun was already low on the horizon, painting water and sky crimson alike. Cool droplets of water sprayed them as Thorn's muscular hind legs scraped the surface of the water. The red dragon was panting, and as soon as he touched down, all energy seemed to leave his limbs, and his large wings spread out on top of the waves, floating next to him.

'Whoa!' Murtagh cried out, as a larger wave got them from the side, unbalancing the completely spent dragon. One of his wings became submerged partly.

Help me...

Murtagh was already loosening the straps holding his legs to the saddle.

Hold on! I'm on it...

Just don't let the Hatchling fall down. It wouldn't do to drown him, not after all we've...

All right, all right!

So, before jumping down into the water, Murtagh secured the straps back, so that they would hold their sleeping little charge safely in place. Then he jumped. Despite being cold, the water seemed to burn his skin at first, and he had difficulty kicking out, due to his muscles being stiff and sore from all the riding. He submerged completely. He came up for air, and swam to the side of Thorn's right wing and began to help folding it. It wasn't an easy task. He contemplated using magic, but in the end it was done without it. He just needed to shake the water off the leathery membranes, so that it's weight wouldn't pull Thorn down, and the dragon could do the rest.

When the left wing too was safely tucked in next to Thorn's body, Murtagh remained in the water for a little while more, swimming around. The exercise felt nice. He could feel his muscles unknoting and warming up one by one. Then he went back to his partner, and reaching out for the magic, he uttered a few well chosen words in the ancient language. The drain in his energy was noticeable, but nothing he couldn't sustain.

Drink. We both need it.

Thorn gave a grateful grunt, as he began laping up the water before him, which was free of salt, thanks to the magic. Murtagh also filled a flask. After drinking their share, and filling the flask once again he released his hold on he magic. Thorn turned his head to face him, and fixed his emerald stare at him.

I could catch us something to eat too later, only I don't think you could hold the Hatchling up by yourself.

Murtagh could feel more longing behind Thor's thoughts than he was letting on. Swimming through the water chasing prey must have appealed to him greatly at the moment.

I could. But there is also the luggage. Let's not try it, not before it comes to either that or death by starving. Either way, only you would fancy raw fish.

Murtagh could feel a hint of amusement from Thorn which contented him, because it showed that his partner was starting to recover from the fatigue of the journey of the day. Thorn had a cheery, optimistic disposition which more often than not made him see more the humorous, and not the thorny side of Murtagh's ever present sarcasm.

Murtagh climbed back to the saddle, and started shaking the little bundle in it.

'Hey!'

It suddenly occurred to him, that he was probably being more rough than was appropriate. He stilled his hands, and tried again, more gently this time.

'Hey. I brought water.'

Two eyes blinked open. They focused slowly, then locked on their target and stayed there without moving. Large, shining, unwavering blue eyes. Murtagh should have been used to it by then, being gazed at thus, but he still couldn't escape the uncomfortable feeling he always encountered when dealing with the elven boy. He almost wished he hadn't woken him. After a long-seeming time, the boy finally looked away. He reached out, and took the flask wordlessly. He drank.

'Eka elrun ono.'

Thank you.

The boy looked around.

'How far is it still?' he asked, switching to the tongue of men with a bit of an accent.

'...wish I knew.' Murtagh relied bitterly.

Thorn rested through half the night, being cradled by the waves, while Murtagh kept watch. There were creatures in the sea even a dragon should be to be wary of... Then they resumed their journey, heading ever westward.

Murtagh couldn't help looking forward to daylight, with a strong hope of finally seeing their destination. But when the darkness began to retreat, the first rays of the sun illuminated only seemingly endless row of sea-waves bellow. Despair filled him. He barred his teeth, and a guttural roar of frustration escaped him.

Blast it, you idiot! Just how much further are you? Eragon!

Author's Note: Reviews are much appreciated.