Upon Dragon Wings
Abby Ebon
O.o.O.o.O.o.O
Throes…
"Are you sure, then, that the Ra'zac hold Katrina in Helgrind?" Roran asked of his cousin, who seemed distracted. "Saphira is fairly sure, and she says that you're to quit worrying about it until Eragon looks like he's gotten some proper rest, and do you see what I mean – wha? Hey! Saphira!" Eragon looked very put-out as he pouted in the direction Saphira was held.
Roran's lips twitched in amusement as he bit back a smile for the sake of his cousin.
"Tell her I see her point and will be putting you to bed shortly." Eragon turned his pout on Roran, who – unable to hold it back anymore, laughed. For one so mighty, the 'Sladeslayer' was still only a sixteen year old boy.
Sometimes, seeing Eragon acting so mature and being given so many honors threw him, until something like this happened, and he remembered his cousin was still his cousin, and his best friend.
He thought then that if Saphira's intention had been to get him to cheer up, she had succeeded. He wondered why the dragon had bothered, and was surprised when he was answered.
You, Roran, be assured you are dear to my Little One, and he knows well what dangers there are in Helgrind and fears for Katrina – and your own happiness. If he can assure you somehow that she will be alright – even if it is costing him more energy then he can spend, he will do so. He cares very deeply for you. Roran was thrown for a bit, but managed to thank her (or at least he hoped he had) and shook his head, his mind going back to Eragon.
His cousin did look warn, Roran was abashed that he had not noticed, there was something about finding your cousin on the back of a dragon – and fighting more fiercely with another Dragon and it's Rider then you had seen in all your life, that caused Roran not to see Eragon as Eragon – but he was. It was the others who were having trouble seeing that now.
Roran truly did not know what to make of Saphira – only that she cared very much for Eragon, and seemed to know him better then Roran in some ways. He wasn't sure he liked that idea. Roran let Eragon stop pouting, and took him by the shoulder, guiding him to his rooms.
"Roran! You weren't serious, were you?" Eragon exclaimed, having noticed the direction.
"Oh yes, Little One, you always keep your word to a dragon!" Roran told him quite seriously, much to Eragon's embarrassment (either to that or the nickname Roran had picked up from Saphira) – his cheeks flushed when they passed one a woman burdened with freshly made lace, she gave Eragon a speculative glance, and rushed on after glimpsing Roran's glare.
That was another thing Roran wasn't sure what to do about, women middle aged and in their twenties were giving his barely teenaged cousin looks of interest or open lust. In Roran's oh-so-humble opinion the Elfish-looks did not help Eragon, especially with his cousin so innocent to it.
In that, he could understand Arya's clear disinterest, it seemed to Roran that his cousin had mistaken a crush for 'love'.
"Don't you dare use that endearment in front of the others!" Eragon hissed at him, keeping his voice low, his cheeks still flamingly red – the lack of a tan was not good for the fair skinned version of his cousin.
"Why? Afraid it'll catch on? Oh! What if Arya starts to call you that – you know, that looks a fair impression of a cat-boy." Roran told him, staring at his snarling cousins features in curiosity. He had made sure to close the door behind him, perhaps that hadn't been the best idea.
"I do something awful to you if you do!" Eragon warning, brown eyes flashing – Roran almost took a step back to cower – but his back straitened, he would not be turned timid by a fifteen year old, and his best friend at that!
"Like what, Little One? Give me your bad breath?" Roran teased, and Eragon snarled wordlessly as he turned to his bed and jumped on it – his face buried in his pillow as he screeched into it.
Roran decided to spare him from further teasing and settled on his own bed. As the place was so packed they'd had to share. Roran, his eyes closed, unmoved by his cousin's silent rebellion, listened as Eragon prepared for bed.
Roran had decided that Eragon was likely playing the silent treatment, and found himself amused, if in a heartsick way – Eragon had barely spoken to him as he had prepared to go to Therinsfold to work as a millers assistant, to earn the money to get a house build for Katrina. Not to mention pay for a wedding.
Roran pushed away those regrets, and listening to Eragon's breathing, fell into sleep.
O.o.O.o.O.o.O
Murtagh hovered above him, eyes looking into Eragon's own. At the look in the other Dragon Riders eyes, Eragon's breath caught in his throat. Murtagh leaned over him, lapping at his throat – sucking and nibbling along his most venerable and sensitive neck.
Eragon moved, and shivered, his skin flaring with the rest of his senses, helplessly, he moaned, caught up in his need and senses, with them, he felt Murtagh's lips curve, pleased, against his neck.
Murtagh rose onto his forearms to look down at Eragon, his pale, unblemished body, glistened with sweat – as he alternately fought – when he was frozen stiff, disbelieving, looking up at Murtagh like a kicked puppy, with those deer-brown eyes.
Murtagh loved it most when Eragon gave in – when he was needy, whimpering and begging for touch, pressing against him, willing and caught up in Saphira's draconic desire.
Murtagh saw with pleasure that Eragon's wild brown hair had grown, brushing his shoulders, and fanning out onto the pillows bellow. Eragon's plump lips were caught between his teeth, swollen and ripe from kissing.
Murtagh saw then, what Thorn did; Saphira's final act – the mating flight, she had escaped Thorn until now – even as her body fought with her to give in. Saphira knew that Eragon was entrenched into her emotions as deeply as she was his – it was a bond Murtagh longed for, but Thorn could not give him.
Saphira knew that if she gave in to Thorn's advances, Eragon would collapse into the feelings as well, and bond-mate with Murtagh; as her body to do with Thorn – and he would eventually mate – and be bonded with Thorn, and Eragon would as well, with Murtagh.
So, Saphira flew, she flew into the sky with reckless abandon, and Thorn mere seconds from catching her, it was breath taking as he watched trough Thorn's eyes as Saphira dove and spin away from him.
She was throwing all the spirit she had into the flight of her body – driving the desires or draconic mating momentarily to the back of her mind – and her Riders.
Eragon, beneath Murtagh, shook off some of his lust – and Murtagh, desperate as Thorn to catch Saphira, acted unthinkingly for the first time since his youth – his lips and tongue descending upon and pushing into his younger brother's warm mouth, just as Thorn locked talons with Saphira – their wings outstretched as they fell to earth, mated.
Eragon – unknowingly echoing Saphira, embraced Murtagh, his arms and legs wrapping around the other Rider as he moved wantonly against Murtagh, and Murtagh kissed the side of his brothers jaw, and pushed his hips and hard length against Eragon's buttocks, parting them, and pushing up into -…
O.o.O.o.O.o.O
Murtagh woke involuntarily, aching and painfully hard, his eyes trailing down to his torso and a small groan – of pleasure and mixed annoyance, echoed from his lips.
About time you woke up, Galbatorix is calling for you. Talon told him dryly, gaining twisted amusement from his Rider's plight.
Thank you, Murtagh answered mentally, drawing away from the connection when he felt the dragons' keen disgust with him – physically, he was pulling away from the now clingy damp sheets.
Sitting on the edge of his great bed, he chanced a hopeful – but fruitless glance behind him, somehow hoping that the Eragon from his dream – fantasy? Would be there, in his bed - looking up at him with lustful deer brown eyes - Eragon, of course, wasn't.
Empty as they were, the bed sheets sent a sorrowful prang through his chest, strong enough to will away his erection.
His tanned body – nude under the moonlight, curved and twisted as he pulled on his pants – and a vest, not bothering with a shirt. He did loop Zar'roc through the belt on his pants though.
The blade itself disgusted him, but it was a link to Eragon, and he would not throw it away. It was a symbol of how Eragon saw him. A misery in his life – it was, at least, something – an acknowledgement of the ties between them.
Murtagh's jaw clenched – his hands clenching and unclenching in his mood – tossing it away from him as he strode down the hall to the entrance of Galbatorix's chambers.
"Enter, Murtagh son of Morzan." Murtagh paused long enough to bow at the appropriate distance – and then stood, facing Galbatorix, King of Alagaësia, Dragon Rider – and bane of Murtagh's existence.
"There is something you should be made aware of; I had almost forgotten it after all these long years. You might have noticed having dreams of Eragon, or of Thorn taking Saphira in a flight. This is, in a way, prophesy – for the Dragon's Dance approaches. It is a seasonal event, brought on by a female dragon coming of age to mate. All male Dragon Riders and Dragons feel her call." Galbatorix told him, his tone lofty and high, as if speaking to an insolent child.
Murtagh ignored this, and suppressed the urge to be sickened at the thought of Galbatorix having erotic dreams about his brother.
"This will end when she chooses a mate to bond with," Galbatorix continued, starting to pace the floor, an old habit Murtagh had learned long ago to pick up on, "you are to go out with Thorn and look for her. Someone among them has likely discovered what is happening with her – or she has told them herself, and as you are the only one with a male dragon compatible with her, they would be in hiding from you." He finished, and Murtagh prepared himself for his true orders.
"Your orders, Murtagh son of Morzan, are to take Thorn, find Saphira, have Thorn mate with her, and to return with both Saphira and Eragon, this is the end of your orders." Galbatorix told him in a sweet voice and Murtagh felt a helplessness hover over him, for, this time, there was no loop hole.
Murtagh swallowed down the feeling of bile rising in his throat, and bowed to Galbatorix, biting his tongue, least Galbatorix add something to those orders.
"I will do as you will, my King." Murtagh echoed, and stood, swiftly leaving – walking backwards as he left the hall, his gaze to the floor.
O.o.O.o.O.o.O
So, the beaten puppy returns. What does he want now? Thorn asked as Murtagh made him ready to ride.
"What else would he want but for us to find Saphira and Eragon?" Murtagh told him shortly – and aloud, so a passing stable boy gave him a startled look. Murtagh ignored it – he felt more comfortable conversing with Thorn by speech so not to feel his dragon's manner toward him.
It wasn't that Murtagh blamed Thorn for feeling so disgusted by him, he did serve a more powerful 'master', and he was enslaved by his own foolishness.
He had asked when Thorn was just hatched what his own true name was – and Thorn had told him and the Twins – those blighted evil Twins, had took it from him. Now, his own true-name was used against him, and he, in turn, could not use it to free himself.
Thorn despised him for being so weak, and Murtagh could not find it within himself to change his dragon's opinion of him.
Then let's go. Thorn urged him, and Murtagh allowed himself the chance – to feel his dragon's pleasure in flying – with or without Murtagh. It the one positive thing Thorn linked to him, for Thorn wasn't allowed to fly without Murtagh.
Murtagh leaned over Thorn's shoulder, looking down at the passing country side. It all seemed so small – their troubles, worry, even the very land Galbatorix controlled.
It would be a half-day flight to the border between Alagaësia and Surda, and less then that to cross the mass of destruction of the Burning Plains. It had been less then three days since the battle – and he had decided that he would have to go beyond the Empire's land – if along the coast to King Orrin's main city.
The plan, in Murtagh's mind, was to lure Eragon away - to the islands off the coast of Alagaësia.
O.o.O.o.O.o.O
AN – The first of the pairings requested by Chaos Silk, so that she might write me, in turn, a decent sized bit of InuYasha slash.
I hope.