~ Out Of The Woods ~
Notes: AU reverse? - bits from the film and books.
Summary: In which Eragon was influenced by Galbatorix, and Saphira hatches for him in the black castle when he's sixteen. Murtagh escaped the King and his father's legacy when he was just seven, and grew up in Carvahall with Roran and Garrow. Ayra stole two eggs that night, and although managing to evade capture by Durza, she lost the blue egg to him and only teleported the red egg in the forest. Thorn hatches for Murtagh, and the pair become the Alagaësia's new hope. Then, four months later, Saphira hatches for Eragon under very different conditions. Murtagh travels with Brom to the Varden, until the he hears cries for help in his sleep. Instead deciding to travel back to the black castle in Urû'baen, despite Brom's protests, in order to save the young rider from his dreams.
~ Prologue ~
Lightning tore into the sky, rattling the chains that bound them to the earth. Imprisoned and restrained for eternity, the thunder answers their silent cries. Shruikan roared in retaliation. For the storm insinuated a reason to celebrate, he felt the presence of something that he longed believed would never come again.
A hatchling. Somewhere, far away, had just taken its first breath. In these moments, it knew nothing nor did it care of the struggles to be faced, only delighted in the gift of being alive. The scarred and tired dragon made no attempt to inform his rider of such a significant occurrence. Too many years had passed with him conversed to believe the idea of being the last. That he would rot away under Galbatorix's madness. Accepting the eggs in the treasury would remain dormant and never stir. Failed were the King's plans to form his own order of dragon riders.
Shruikan had masked his content upon hearing the elves had stolen two of the four eggs a few days ago. For those long hours, he forcefully shared his rider's rage. But regret for the unborn had filled his heart, in then learning the blue egg had been recovered by the Shade. Yet, all had not been lost. With the red one surely safe in the Varden, it had only been a matter of time before it chose to hatch to a new dawn in dark history of the riders.
The lightning set to confirm his suspicions.
By now the rider and hatchling should be bonded, and their strength could only grow. He grieved in the thought he wouldn't be there teach this youngling of the world. That it would be left alone, isolated, believing itself to be the last. Besides himself of course. Shruikan hated the notion. The very inevitable realty of the situation. Galbatorix had taken so much, the black dragon felt he'd never see it come back. He never wanted to kill so many. He never wanted his race to be on the verge of extinction. He only did as he was told, what he was unwillingly ordered to perform.
Shruikan bowed his head in shame. There was nothing left but pain, surging through his veins and mind. He'll keep up the lie to the end. Play the role of the eager villain, to pave the way for the rise of the dragon riders. Starting with the hatchling born form the red egg. And when the fight is over, in his fall, he'll welcome death like an old friend. Shruikan closed his eyes, and rested his head on the cold dungeon floor. He had decided his fate a long time ago.
...
A season past since the loss of the red egg, marked eerily when Galbatorix strode in mumbling insanely - "There are two... Two of them. The wretch had two." -
He couldn't of cared any less. But the man's insistent ramblings, fuelled the dragon's peaking interest. The King had sat deep in thought for a while, forefinger resting on his lips in deliberation. Shruikan pushed his confusion to his rider, who in turn replied.
"Morzan had two sons... Two brothers, my pet. The bitch thought she could hide one from me... She was wrong."
He still wasn't completely certain, but left his knowledge at that, brushing minds with Galbatorix was an unpleasant experience and one he tended to avoid. As the weeks followed, he feared the satisfaction that rolled off the King. The crazy intent spiralling from words the he shared behind closed doors with the Shade. Shruikan pitied the poor creature on the receiving end of his rider's twisted attention. Perhaps they would die quickly, that is the kindest mercy the dragon could wish for them. This is the last place in Alagaësia where you'd want to be locked up - he would know.
...
Everything settled down for a while. At times Shruikan thoughts drifted to the young dragon growing up without a mentor or parental figure. Prayed to whoever may be listening that it's rider was gentle and fair of heart. He feared for the unavoidable battle ahead. No matter the outcome, this land had many dark days in store.
Shruikan had been asleep when an eerie feeling, something more than angry or fury, sieved through their connection. Immediately he was worried, anxious, dreading to say the least.
The insane King marched to his throne, and smugly marvelled at a fragment of blue. Sitting down, he held up the piece to the candle light for a better perspective. Shruikan already guessed, and in those intuitions he was afraid to ask. Galbatorix first shared the scene of young human, his blond hair matted with dirt and neglect. Imposed over by his malnourished demeanour.
The unconscious boy looked to be at death's door. The dragon sighed. So this was what had been keeping his rider entertained. He allowed his disgust into the King's mind, but the man only laughed. The second memory began with imperial soldiers hauling the boy up, none too gently, and supporting his entire weight. As the image unfolded, Shruikan recognised the location of the vault. He watches tentatively as the soldiers raise the boy's hand to touch the blue, then black, then green eggs. For a moment nothing happens. They wait, but just as it appears they were ready to leave. Shruikan watches regrettably as the blue one wobbles on its stand. The scene skips forward.
To a hatchling fighting its way out from one prison to its next. Shards of blue finally erupted, scattering in all directions. to reveal a small, delicate creature temporarily on its back. Uncoordinatedly, she flapped her wings to gain leverage in pushing herself over. With a puff of smoke, the little dragon calls out to its unresponsive rider. Inquisitive eyes try to make sense of the situation, looking from the soldiers to the boy. Shruikan could tell she knew, understood even in the moments after her birth, that something was wrong. He watches as the echo of the hatchling stumbled forward on shaky legs, racing towards the injured boy. Instinctually, she nudged his fingers with her muzzle. The hatchling growled at the King as he stepped forward, but then collided her head against the boy's palm. A bright blue light consumes the memory, leaving Shruikan to ponder this new development.
Two riders chained by the fates others will thrust upon them. Both pitched against each other in this endless, bloody war. Would the Varden really be prepared to have a dragon slaughtered for their cause? Shruikan sighed. Even though they should be side by side, one may end up killing the other. His mind wandered to the other hatchling, free outside these castle walls. By now it almost had a four months head start. Free from Galbatorix.
While the younger hatchling would be forced to serve a crazed master under her rider. Cold, enclosing rooms, chains and orders would be her childhood. The castle her keeper and her own rider, the warden. She would not be allowed outside unless in training. Her rider will be the only company she's ever allowed. Not that she would complain, the young boy will become her world. But the virtually unbearable possibility, that history is just about to repeat itself, sank heavily in Shruikan's chest. He knew Galbatorix would bring no further physical harm to the precious rider or his dragon. But not all hurt can be seen on the outside. The young human boy would become just another puppet in Galbatorix's showroom. Shruikan looks down in shame.
Maybe these sombre thoughts left the sky so empty, so dark, and so silent the night the blue dragon hatched. The heavens had no cause for celebration.
...
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