Author's Note: Just one of those totally random and unexpected plot bunnies that just HAD to have its way. Far be it from me to ignore those persistent little things. ;) Anyway, hope you enjoy this little bittersweet one-shot. Oh, and brace yourself: there are a lot of italicized parts, due to most of this being a mental dialogue.
- - - To Gain a Dragon - - -
It was a sight to behold, truly: a boy and his dragon, indulging in a moment of solitude upon a small hillock overlooking a sprawling village, bathed in amber from the rapidly sinking sun that was just about to kiss the horizon before them. They appeared peaceful, seeming to simply enjoy the companionship that the other brought to the table.
The situation could not be more deceiving.
In truth, they were locked in a silent contest of wills. The crimson-scaled dragon, knowing his Rider was keeping parts of his mind and heart from him, was quickly getting irked, and the dark-clad boy was doing his best to avoid revealing anything.
If one could tap into the mental conversation, however, they might understand why.
If a dragon could appear ready to snap, the ruby one hovering near its rider on the sunlit knoll would be the vision of frustration. As it was, he was incapable of expressing his irritation externally, but mentally, he was doing just fine. Murtagh! Your brooding is ridiculous! You can tell me anything! Why are you evading me? I am a dragon, not a mindreader!
For his part, the boy so gripingly addressed continued to stare off into the distance, seeming unruffled by the aggravated thoughts that were filling his head and trying to scold him into shame. I am sorry that you are frustrated by my brooding, Thorn, but I really wish to have time to think to myself. I have a lot on my mind of late.
Well, that's the unfortunate thing about having a dragon's conscience attached to your own: you never really get to be by yourself.
With a smirk, the Rider waved a hand dismissively and continued to stare off into the distance.
Murtagh, talk to me. I know you are troubled, and your troubles are troubling me, so to speak. It's not as if I can avoid feeling what you are feeling, and frankly, it's starting to annoy me. You are sulking and it's making me want to sulk, but today is too wonderful a day to be sulking.
Your redundancy is annoying, you know, Murtagh answered calmly, laughing in spite of his somber mood as the dragon reached out a taloned paw and knocked him onto his side.
There. Better. You never laugh anymore.
Murtagh sobered as he maneuvered back into his previous sitting position. Not much amuses me these days, dear friend.
Speak, foolish boy, Thorn growled gently. I tire of your evasive nature.
Murtagh hesitated for a moment, but when the dragon puffed out an irritated breath and refused to look away, he gave in and lent voice to his worries. You do not know what I was forced to give up in order to keep you. I had to lose much to gain a dragon.
Enlighten me.
Friendship. Trust. Freedom. A lifetime of rebelling against evil.
You have my friendship and my trust, Thorn reminded him gently, nudging his Rider's shoulder with his huge crimson nose.
Murtagh smiled. And I could not be more thankful. Freedom and the lifetime of rebelling against evil, however, are not ours, Thorn. We cannot claim either. We are slaves. We are sworn to a man who will use us and discard us at will, as it suits him. We are his tools, his weapons, his pawns. It's sickening.
We have each other.
Again, I could not be more thankful. Without you, I'd go insane. I am so relieved that I do not have to go through this alone, friend.
A hum of approval rumbled in the dragon's throat. Adjusting his sizable frame, Thorn then settled into a half-crouch, half-sprawl, resting his head on the ground and fixing his Rider with a steady gaze. Now, sate my riled curiosity. Who was this friend who was worthy of so many hefty sacrifices?
Eragon. He was a Rider, too. Saphira was his dragon's name. Murtagh sighed, then added bitterly, Galbatorix will likely ensure that you will meet both eventually, but I fear the introductions will be less than pleasant. I suspect they will not like you, but will like me even less.
First impressions are rarely ideal, but a reunion between friends should never culminate in hostility, Thorn pointed out sagely.
Would you not be hostile if your friend formed an alliance with your enemy?
Not if it was beyond my friend's control.
He will think I stabbed him in the back.
The Twins stabbed you in the back. You could not have predicted their treachery.
And Eragon could not have predicted mine, Thorn. I resent the Twins for their deeds, and Eragon will resent me for mine. Now, can we please talk about something else?
How did you meet Eragon?
Really, Thorn, anything else will do, Murtagh half-pleaded. When the dragon just stared at him, waiting patiently for a response, Murtagh rolled his eyes and offered the simplest version he could manage. I rescued him from the Ra'zac, and after his previous companion Brom died, we traveled together for a time. I promised to accompany him only as far as Surda, so as to avoid the Varden, who would likely kill me for my heritage, but I was eventually trapped into going to the Varden anyway. I was imprisoned upon my arrival, but was allowed to take part in the battle that ensued when Urgals arrived and attempted to crush the opposition. In the last moments, I was captured by the Twins and taken here to Galbatorix, where I was presented with your egg...and you know the rest of this tale.
Ah, yes. I hatched for you, Galbatorix forced us both to take oaths of loyalty, and you wound up moping about like a kicked mongrel. When Murtagh said nothing in response, Thorn tried a gentler approach. Your friend will understand.
His Rider shook his head sadly. No, he won't.
Thorn was not convinced. You did not choose this path. It was forced upon you. You did not exactly insist that I hatch, as I recall. You were rather intent on convincing me to remain in my egg.
I will not ever blame you for this, Thorn, nor will I ever regret that you did hatch for me.
I know, Murtagh, and I glad of it. I do not understand, however, how he can blame you for what was obviously beyond your control. Galbatorix knew our true names. You had no choice but to swear fealty.
How could Eragon be sure of that?
How could you have voluntarily sworn yourself to the king when you could not speak the ancient language? How could you know the words to say, if they were not being fed to and forced upon you? Thorn countered.
Although it was a reasonable rebuttal, and made a lot of sense, Murtagh only crossed his arms and frowned. I do not want to argue about this.
We aren't arguing. I'm on your side, Murtagh.
Then you should also be on Eragon's side, Thorn, because his and mine are the same.
Thorn was unwilling to agree with this wisdom, which became infinitely clear when he ignored it altogether and abruptly switched tactics. You would never betray a friend voluntarily, especially after going through so much to earn his faith to begin with. If you two were good friends, Eragon should know that.
For Eragon, friendship comes easily. He makes friends everywhere he goes; he has a quality that is magnetic. He does not have a dark past. His name is untainted. He is an enemy of the Empire by choice, not an enemy of the Varden by chance. Murtagh took a deep breath. He does not know how difficult it can be to earn trust, for people trust him instinctively. They never question his motives the way they constantly doubt mine. And why should they? He is not the son of a traitor. He is their hero. They owe him their lives.
I do not care if he is their hero! He is your friend! He owes you his life, many times over. You did your best to protect him. Why would you have even attempted to rescue him in the first place if you intended to submit yourself to Galbatorix's clutches later? That seems like a waste of time.
I am not angry at Eragon, Thorn. Why are you?
I am angry because he has no right to judge you! Thorn snapped, his tail flicking irritably. He knows nothing of your losses! Murtagh was surprised by Thorn's vehemence; he could not recall ever hearing him sound so infuriated. He tried to offer comfort by resting one palm against the hard scales of Thorn's neck, but the dragon tossed his head away and snorted. He is but a child! He has no reason to be angry with you for doing what anyone in your position would have done! You did what he would undoubtedly do if faced with the terrible choice you had to make! He has a dragon! He knows how deep that bond runs! He would never allow his dragon to be killed either, even for the sake of a dear friend, and I find it insulting that he thinks you are heartless enough to either intentionally give him or me up!
Murtagh passed a hand over his face. Eragon has lost much, too. He's paid his dues, Thorn. He lost his uncle, his cousin, his home, his childhood, his innocence, his mentor...and then me.
And you lost your mother, father, and trainer-friend, Tor...
Tornac, Murtagh supplied with an inward sigh.
Tornac, Thorn repeated absently. In any case, you have lost much, Murtagh. You've paid your dues also. You must stop punishing yourself now. Haven't you been punished enough? Look at what you're going through to protect his identity! Galbatorix is not known for his tenderness, and yet here you are, suffering mental ransacking and torture on a daily basis, while he is free?
Murtagh rolled his shoulders, wincing as they creaked. He mulled Thorn's words over for a moment before replying. Eragon's worth it. You don't know him. The Varden had no hope before he arrived. They practically worship at his feet now, Thorn. It would disgust me if he had not earned it, but he has. He led them into victory against all odds, and very nearly paid for it with his life.
Thorn mused contemptuously, And how do you suppose he is now? You speak of him as if he is such a martyr, yet he is not the one suffering at the hands of a maniacal king. Could his fate be worse than yours?
The young man gazed steadily at his dragon. I certainly hope not. He and Saphira deserve that no more than you and I.
Thorn shifted uncomfortably. You're right. I'm sorry for being callous; it's just that I never knew you gave up so much to be my Rider, Murtagh.
You were worth it, Thorn, a hundred times over. I just wish things weren't so complicated. He will think I threw his trust away because it meant nothing to me. He will not realize that I could not allow my dragon to die, not when he thinks I brushed off any concern I might have felt for him and revealed everything to the enemy.
You may see him again someday, and perhaps on better terms than you might think. He has every right to trust you, after all you've done for him.
He cannot trust me. No one can...or will, except you...and I sincerely doubt that Eragon would allow you into his mind to give you the opportunity to explain that you deem me worthy of your trust. Either way, it is not feasible. Eragon knows who I am, Thorn.
...Murtagh? Thorn sounded confused.
Not just Murtagh. Murtagh, the son of Morzan.
What does being the son of Morzan have to do...oh. The dragon trailed off, obviously unnerved.
No matter what I do, I will always be the son of Morzan.
Suddenly, Thorn was filled with words again. And I chose to hatch for the son of Morzan. I chose the son of Morzan to be my Rider. I chose the son of Morzan to fight at my side. I chose the son of Morzan to share my mind. I chose the son of Morzan to be a part of me. Thorn lowered his head so he and his Rider were eye to eye. Would you seek now to question my judgment, son of Morzan?
Murtagh offered a rare smile. "I wouldn't dream of it," he whispered out loud, touching his forehead to the tip of Thorn's nose.