Hello again!! This is a rather random fic I wrote while I was kinda depressed. Probably one-shot. Saphira is kind of OOC, cos I wasn't sure how to write her, so sorry about that.
WARNING: If you don't like slash or incest, then click that lovely little back button at the top of your screen right now, cos I don't want any reviews saying how disgusting slash and incest is. You have been warned...
Pairing: EragonMurtagh
Summary: Set after Eldest. Murtagh finds an unprepared Eragon and Saphira. Contains murder, suicide, slash and incest.
Eragon and Saphira were camping by a stream on their way back to Ellesméra. Arya and Orik were to follow as soon as possible, but they were needed to help the Varden for the moment.
Eragon stretched and walked closer to the fire, glad to be back on the ground after a long day flying north. His eyes caught his plain silver sword lying by Saphira's front paw. He hated it. It didn't fit his hand properly, not like Zar'roc had. But now that was gone.
"I take my inheritance from you, brother. Farewell."
He still couldn't take it in. Murtagh, his enemy? His brother? The man he had grown to love as more than just a friend in their weeks of travelling together. Even though the knowledge they were brothers was shocking, it could not tarnish his memories of that night.
He sank into a deep reverie, reliving his first kiss. Those lips. Those lips that had brushed so softly against his own. Those hands that found their way up his back and into his hair. The way – he was startled out of his thoughts by Saphira.
Little one... she sounded anxious and twitchy, so unlike the happy, carefree dragon she should have been.
What? He hadn't meant to snap, but he wasn't in the mood for talking. He wanted to return to the comforting memory of Murtagh's embrace.
Unless I am very wrong, there is another dragon nearby.
How can you tell?
It feels like it did at the battle. I knew there was something there, but I didn't realise it was another dragon and Rider until the pair of traitors showed themselves.
You felt there was something wrong and you didn't tell me?
You're telling me you didn't feel anything?
Eragon fell silent, thinking. There had been something. Something far in the back of his mind. A feeling, a presence, ignored then, clouded by the coming battle.
I did then, he admitted, but there's nothing now. Nothing.
Eragon...
Why Murtagh? WHY???
I have no answers Eragon. Fate chose your brother, just as it chose you. You must live with that. Try to forget Murtagh. For me.
I can't.
Please, Eragon, just try.
It's not that easy Saphira!!!
Why is this so hard for you? I understand it's hard, but it's not impossible!
"You know how I feel about that man!!" Eragon shouted, refraining from speaking through their mental link in his frustration. "Male or not, brother or not, Rider or not, enemy or not, I love him!! I can't just switch off my feelings!!" He felt Saphira's concern emanating into his mind.
Eragon, just listen to me. There is definitely someone else here!
A dragon?
Maybe, maybe not, but I heard them.
Right. Great. Fine. We'll go somewhere else then!!
Suddenly, Saphira roared loudly in pain, and a pool of blood spread around her tail. Her front paw twitched violently upwards and caught Eragon's sword. The silver blade flashed through the night and disappeared into the darkness.
"SAPHIRA!!" he shouted in concern and anger. She was in pain, but she had also removed Eragon's greatest weapon. However much he hated that sword, he still needed it.
He started around the fire, to fetch his bow and to be nearer to Saphira. He had only gone three steps when another consciousness touched his.
Halt, Rider, or she dies.
The voice sounded familiar to Eragon. He squinted through the darkness, but even with his ability to see like the elves, he could only make out a large shape, which he assumed was the dragon that Saphira, who was whimpering in pain now, had sensed, and it's Rider, walking towards the firelight.
Saphira...
I'll live, she said, answering his unsaid question. I-
Eragon was no longer listening. His breath caught in his throat as his brother Murtagh came into view, Thorn behind him, with Saphira's blood staining his fangs.
To Eragon, Murtagh looked perfect, tousled, wind-blown hair framing his slightly flushed face.
"Eragon..." he breathed. He walked towards him. "Galbatorix doesn't want Saphira any more."
It was a simple enough statement, but one that meant death for Eragon and Saphira.
"Why?"
"He won't tell me" Murtagh scoffed. "But what he did tell me to do is this."
Drawing Zar'roc, he walked further forwards, closing the distance between them. Their eyes locked, and Murtagh swallowed.
"I've got to, Eragon." He looked down at his younger brother's face, set in fear, defiance and, in his eyes, deep longing. Eragon placed his hand softly on Murtagh's cheek.
"Don't you remember?"
Flashback:
It was just after Brom had died, and Eragon was still having difficulty walking. Coming into the camp one night, he tripped over a rock. Murtagh caught him by the waist, and felt a strange wave of emotions crash over him. He had to ignore them, Eragon was in pain, he didn't need another guy coming on to him. He helped him to sit down on a large log, then placed himself next to him.
"I think I need to check it again, Eragon," Murtagh murmured, desperate for any excuse to get this boy's shirt off. Eragon agreed, wanting to feel Murtagh's hands gently touching around his wound as he removed the bandages. He felt Saphira withdraw from his mind and wink at him knowingly before curling up and closing her eyes.
When the bandages were off, Murtagh checked the wound, then looked up at Eragon to tell him that he would most likely recover quite soon. The sentence got lost in his mouth as their eyes met. He couldn't resist any longer. Moving his head forward, he brushed his lips against Eragon's, then pulled away, blushing.
"Sorry, I, erm..." The sentence was never finished as Eragon pushed his lips up against Murtagh's. Murtagh slid his hands around Eragon's waist and then slowly and gently up his back until they were in his hair, pulling him closer...
End Flashback
"How could I forget, Eragon?" he asked, wishing he would take his hand off him. He brought Zar'roc up to rest against Eragon's throat.
"Please, Murtagh...let me go"
"I can't"
Cold metal pierced warm skin, hot blood flowed down Eragon's neck, and he stumbled to the side. Murtagh caught his younger brother in his arms. What have I done? His tears fell thick and fast onto the dying boy's face, and looking to the side, he saw Saphira's breathing slow down and eventually stop. Gazing down at his brother who lay motionless in his arms, he was over come with grief so strong he wondered why he hadn't killed himself before harming Eragon. He would have done it for me. Standing up, he looked over at Thorn.
What do I live for?
To serve the king, and carry out his wishes.
What sort of a life is that? I will never be free, not now that I have killed the only person who could have defeated the king. I should end it. Now, before he makes me kill again. I'm sorry, my friend, but I have nothing to live for now. I had always hoped Eragon would free us, but now I have made sure that he won't.
Seizing Zar'roc, he pulled up the sleeve of his tunic, and surveyed the bare skin of his wrist. Taking a deep breath, he brought the sword down twice, and fell beside his brother, his breath coming in short gasps. Laying one hand over Eragon's, he whispered with his last breath:
"I'm sorry, Eragon. I love you..."
So, there we go. Sorry the ending is a bit random, but I had a bit of a time limit. What did you think? Please R&R.
Luv ya all
l-m-h
xx