Disclaimer: I don't own Eragon or anything associated with the Inheritance Cycle. Story and chapter titles are from the song "Undisclosed Desires" by Muse.

Claimer: I, SussieKitten, own this plot and the story. Borrow or steal my plot, my original characters (Aksel) or story and I will report you. I also own my version of Thorn/Saphira/Shruikan/Glaedr's human appearances.

Warnings: Male homosexuality. Female homosexuality. Heterosexuality. Supernatural creatures – there will be mainly elves (immortals), dragons (drakes), dwarves, vampires and werewolves (weres) in this. Mentions of ill intentions towards humans and humanoid creatures. Obvious bias against humanoid species. Politics. If any of this disturbs you, click on the "back" button. I won't tolerate any flames.

A/N And here is the second part of my birthday present to myself. Woot, woot.

Shockingly enough, I do actually have a second chapter of this waiting to get posted, so I might be able to slide back into a semi-regular schedule again. I just need to get some other stuff ready to roll and then we're good. Here's to hoping, anyway. :)

Hope you enjoy the chapter!

Be warned. This is self-betaed.


Undisclosed Desires

Part Seven; Make You Feel Pure

Things didn't change much after his talk with Saphira, Eragon and Aksel. They didn't suddenly start going out of their way to talk to him. They nodded his way, maybe waved or smiled, but it rarely went any further. Murtagh was grateful for that.

-;-

He smelled everything on her before he actually smelled her. His hackles were up before his nose took in the subtleties – how her scent was stronger than the others on her, particularly his scent – and by then it was too late.

"Hi Murtagh."

It would be rude to ignore her, particularly after how she'd reached out during the holidays. Murtagh forced himself to turn around.

Nasuada looked cautious. There was no other word for it. She tried to smile, but it didn't look quite right.

He nodded to her.

"How have you been?"

"You didn't come here to ask me how I've been," he said.

There was a flicker of sadness in her eyes before she suppressed it. "Believe it or not, I did. I care about you, Murtagh, even though I know you don't believe me."

He shrugged, hoping it looked more nonchalant than it felt. "Well, I'm fine, so."

"You don't have to lie to me," she said softly.

"Well, this is off to a stellar start," he said. "You've already called me a disbeliever and a liar. Got any more where those came from?"

"Dammit Murtagh, would it kill you to listen for once?" she snapped suddenly.

Murtagh paused. He could count the number of times he'd seen Nasuada get pissed off on one hand. He didn't know if he should feel flattered or worried that this instance tipped the scales from one hand to two.

Nasuada sighed and rubbed a hand over her forehead. "I'm tired," she said and Murtagh had to admit that she looked it too. "I'm tired of this fight, of worrying about you two. It kills me to see what it's doing to you both. It has to stop."

"Is that why I should see him?" Murtagh asked. "To give you some peace of mind?"

"I would certainly have earned it," she said, voice still faintly sharp, "but no." Her voice grew softer. "You should do it because you miss your best friend and because he misses you too."

Murtagh gestured at the empty spot next to her. "I find that hard to believe."

"Oh, please," she said. "You know he's as stubborn as you, if not more."

The worst thing about this whole mess was that Murtagh did know. He could have spent the next few decades actively trying to forget Thorn, but he might as well have tried to stop breathing. When a wolf bonded, it was usually for life. The fact that this bond was platonic didn't diminish it one bit. It was the same with Drakes. They guarded their closest with their lives and made no distinction between pack, mate or friend.

"We shouldn't have said and insinuated the things we did," Nasuada said, "but you shouldn't have snapped at us, either. And we certainly shouldn't have gone on to ignore each other and let this whole situation fester."

Murtagh knew she had a point and a part of him hated her for it.

"And if it turns out that you can't salvage the friendship, you both deserve proper closure," she concluded. "Meeting again would give you that."

A large part of him wanted to say yes. He missed them so much it hurt sometimes. Their friendship hadn't been perfect, but he knew most of the blame for that was on him. He was always on edge around them, fighting so hard to keep his secret hidden. If he hadn't...

If he hadn't, then he wouldn't have been Murtagh.

"I need to think about it," he told her.

Nasuada lit up like he'd promised her the moon. "That's all I ask."

He frowned. "That's it?"

She nodded. "I just want you to think about it."

He crossed his arms. "Then your whole speech -"

"Oh, I was quite serious," she said. "But I know I can't force the issue, not without making it worse. All I can do is inspire you both to give it some thought."

Murtagh shook his head. "You're something, all right."

Nasuada smiled gently. "I have missed you too, you know."

Murtagh looked away.

"It's ok. I know you've missed me too."

When he looked up again, she was gone.

He let out a deep breath. His mind was churning. He shook his head and forced himself to get back to work.

-;-

Murtagh was surprised when he walked past one of the study rooms and found Aksel in there with Eragon and Saphira. They both kept looking at him, but Aksel didn't even look up from his books.

Downstairs he found Vanir at the desk with another Immortal. He could only see dark hair and pointed ears. From behind, Murtagh couldn't even tell if the Immortal was male or female.

Then he heard the Immortal speak.

"- imagine that? I never thought he'd dare to show up with his hálblóth lover," the Immortal all-but spat, his accent thickening when he spoke Ódaultungu. "I'm sure they won't show up again. Isma made it clear that she didn't want him and his sviódaulgur kind there."

Vanir's face was neutral, almost blank. Murtagh wasn't sure what to make of it, but suddenly he didn't have to wonder why Aksel had hidden himself upstairs.

Hálblóth; one who is not whole, the Immortals' word for someone of mixed parentage. Directly translated it actually meant something like 'half-breed'.

Sviódaulgur; one who is no longer Immortal, their pretty way of saying 'traitor'.

If the trio had been downstairs when the pompous Immortal had arrived, no doubt sprouting similar things, he had to commend them for not punching his face in. No matter how 'elegantly' they tried to put it, Immortals could be the biggest pricks on the planet.

"When do you plan to stop by? Glenwing has been asking about you."

"When our people stop gossiping about everyone and their mother," Vanir drawled and pushed up his glasses. "It gets quite tiresome after a while, especially when Mirian won't stop repeating the story about how she found Simael going at it with some human three years ago."

"Simael is Fäolin's second cousin, and we all know Fäolin is most likely going to be our next kungur."

"The day our mathurhásæti takes a male mate is the day I take a female one," Vanir said bluntly. "Islanzadìdottir would sooner give up the throne than marry a man, even if it was Fäolin."

Murtagh came around; enough to see the face of the man Vanir was talking to. He had a slim face and protruding cheekbones. Currently he looked like he was sucking on a lemon.

"The law states -"

"That the kungur or drottnu must sire a child, yes, we know." Vanir snorted. "She could always ask someone to be her donor."

Murtagh almost wanted to like Vanir then. The guy he was talking to looked like he had smelled something so foul he was about to pass out.

"So, as much as I'd like to stop by, truly, I think I'm going to pass. I have so much work to do."

The Immortal didn't speak. He gave a sharp nod, turned on his heel and fled. Because even though he was walking, for all intents and purposes, he was clearly fleeing the building.

Murtagh hid a smirk and went about his own business. Who knew? It looked like Vanir wasn't a total tool after all.

-;-

It didn't take him long to make up his mind about the Thorn situation. He only had to walk past the trio joking and laughing a couple of times before his heart couldn't take it anymore. He caved and scheduled a meeting with Nasuada and Thorn when he knew he'd have recovered from the previous full moon and had yet to begin the downward spiral for the next one.

Nasuada arranged for them to meet in a neutral place. It was still cold enough that there weren't many others in the park except them. Just a few people walking their pets and a few people really dedicated to maintaining their cardio. Murtagh could hear children laughing and playing somewhere, but as he couldn't see them they were likely in another park close by.

Thorn looked two seconds away for turning hostile. Murtagh didn't know how he looked, but he had a feeling he didn't look particularly friendly either.

Murtagh forced himself to remember what they'd had. He forced himself to remember the three that made him long for what he'd had once. He deserved good things in his life, even if the world seemed think otherwise. Or, perhaps because the world was convinced of just that. If it turned out that he only had a short while left to life, then fuck everyone else. Murtagh was going to live it how he wanted to.

Thorn crossed his arms over his chest and did what could only be described as a scowl. "Let's hear it then."

"It?"

"I'm still waiting for that apology," Thorn said.

"I don't owe you one," Murtagh stated. "So I didn't watch one stupid debate. When have you known me to watch anything political? I'm not about to start just because everyone else thinks that I should. I keep myself informed in other ways."

Thorn was visibly clenching his jaw. "Well, I don't know if you know, but politics matter a great deal to me -"

"No, really?" Murtagh heard himself say. "I couldn't tell."

Thorn narrowed his eyes and bared his teeth. "This is my life we're talking about. Maybe you could not make it into a huge joke?"

"I am not," Murtagh snapped. "I'm just not going to start doing something I hate just because you think I should."

"Boys," Nasuada tried to intervene, but Thorn wouldn't let her.

"Just because this doesn't effect you -"

"The hell it doesn't!" Murtagh exploded. "In case you haven't noticed, politics have an effect on everyone."

"Not to the same degree, it doesn't," Thorn growled.

He wanted to tell them then, to hurl it in their faces and see them hurt. He kept it back. Barely.

"I didn't come here to fight," he said carefully.

"I'm shocked," Thorn drawled. "You're certainly turning it into one."

"That's enough!" Nasuada said, placing herself between them. Murtagh hadn't even realised they'd been walking towards each other. "I will not stand here and watch you come to blows."

"Then you might want to look away," Thorn said, practically glaring daggers at Murtagh.

"How much of this rage is misplaced, Thorn?" Murtagh heard himself say. He could hear Saphira's concern in the back of his mind. Thorn's rage also felt bigger than strictly necessary, like there was something more fuelling it.

Thorn stiffened.

Nasuada had stilled as well. She looked surprised.

"I've been talking with Saphira lately," he said, if only to see them shocked. "I get that you're frustrated, but you have no right to take that frustration out on us."

"You have no idea -" Thorn began, voice low and dangerous.

"No, I don't," Murtagh said seriously. He didn't and never would. Sure, his wolf could easily keep him up whining for his mate if he let it, but he didn't. He refused. He was more than his instincts.

It was different for Thorn. He knew that. Drakes were much more ruled by their instincts and feelings, and Thorn's were probably still smarting from not getting chosen. Murtagh understood that in theory even if he couldn't understand it in practice.

"But guess what, big guy?" Murtagh spread his arms. "There's always next year."

Thorn looked away, shoulders stiff.

"We've all experienced reject and defeat," Murtagh said. "You just have to fucking pick yourself back up and not let this beat you."

Thorn scoffed. "What do you know about defeat and reject?"

"My father was a werewolf," Murtagh told him. "I watched him get gunned down when I was fifteen because of that curse. I've been kicked out of more foster homes than I can count. I'm stuck working in a minimum-wage job that will take me nowhere. I've -" Murtagh cut himself off. "Just because you think I have a pretty face doesn't mean I've lived an easy life, Thorn. For fuck's sake."

Thorn was staring at him like he'd never seen Murtagh before. "But you can change that," he said finally.

"And so can you," Murtagh countered. "If you have your eye on someone, then take some fucking initiative."

Thorn's cheeks flushed.

Murtagh quickly reminded himself of what he knew about Drake culture and practices. "Unless, of course, you can't because that would be sending all the wrong signals," he drawled. "In which case, there are other things you can do. Like bat your eyes. I'm sure Saphira could give you a few tips."

Thorn buried his head in his hands.

Nasuada was biting her lip. Murtagh was surprised to realise it was because she was holding back laughter.

"I hate you so much," Thorn said finally, defeat in his voice, but he didn't sound angry anymore.

Murtagh smirked. "And still you missed me."

Thorn snorted and removed his hands after rubbing them one last time over his face. "No one said I was sane."

His inner wolf was howling with joy. Murtagh forced himself to keep it at bay.

Things weren't fixed, not really. They probably never fully would be until Murtagh came clean, but at least they were progressing. Murtagh would take that for now.

-;-

"You look better," Vanir said the next time he saw him.

"And you still look like a pompous asshole," Murtagh countered. "Your point being?"

Vanir rolled his eyes. "You look a little less like a steaming pile of warm excrement," he drawled.

"Oh Vanir, you flatter me so," Murtagh said, putting a hand on his chest and batting his eyes. "You're going to make me swoon."

Vanir stuck his nose in the air. "See if I ever say anything nice to you again."

"That was kind of my point," Murtagh said as he braced himself on the closest shelf. "Unless you were trying to make me keel over from a heart-attack – in which case," he tsk'ed, "bummer. Looks like it failed."

Vanir rolled his eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn't fall out of his skull.

"But while we're on the subject," Murtagh heard himself say and wondered, faintly, if one of the signs he was losing himself to the wolf was becoming unable to control his mouth, "it was nice to see that you're not nearly as much of an asshole as you look."

Vanir narrowed his eyes, looking faintly offended. "Meaning?"

"Somehow I think it would have been easier for you if you hadn't stood up to that elf, and yet you did," Murtagh said.

Vanir pursed his lips.

"That's right." Murtagh smirked at him. "I know you have a heart now. Busted."

"There is much about me you don't know," Vanir said, voice low.

"Fortunately for me," Murtagh replied.

"But I fail to see why that moment stuck with you," Vanir continued.

Murtagh wanted to laugh. "Boy, you really do need a new pair of glasses."

Vanir jolted back like Murtagh physically thrown the words at him. "And, pray tell, what is that supposed to mean?"

"That you're not nearly as observant as you like to think," Murtagh said smugly. "How about you come back to me when you figure a few things out, hm?" He walked past Vanir and made sure to pat his shoulder as he did so.

-;-

"Do you have a moment?"

Murtagh finished zipping up his jacket before turning towards the voice.

Saphira was standing there, one hand clutching the strap of her bulging bag. Murtagh could see her friends heading out of the building without her. Aksel had an arm around Eragon's shoulders and was gesticulating with the other.

"Sure."

Saphira smiled softly. "Walk with me?"

Murtagh let her lead him down what was obviously a familiar path for her, though not one he'd ever used to get off campus. He tended to stick around the outskirts, closer to the surrounding roads and further from the buzzling of the masses. Saphira, however, seemed to prefer walking past the towering buildings and heaving through the thriving crowd.

"I wanted to thank you," she said once they'd made it past what seemed to be the most popular areas.

"What for?"

She smiled again. "For talking to Thorn."

He frowned. "How did you -"

"He was at the meet this month," she said. "He looked so much better, too. Just like you."

Murtagh shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. "That had nothing to do with me."

"Didn't it?" she countered. "I know you haven't properly made up, but you're talking again. He's calmer. Happier. How can that have nothing to do with you?"

Murtagh had no idea how to answer her questions.

"I'm a Drake too," Saphira said. "I know how he feels about you. I feel the same way about the people in my life. I would have been just as miserable if I hadn't been talking to Eragon for several months in a row."

"You're giving me too much credit."

"I'm not giving you enough," she said decisively. "He's a hot-head, as I'm sure you know. And while I'm sure you have a temper too, you ground him. I can tell."

Murtagh shook his head. He kept his eyes on the snow that was still lingering on the ground. It turned brown and muddy the closer they got to the roads.

"So, thank you. I missed my friend."

"I'm sure he missed you too," he said.

Saphira stopped, giving Murtagh no choice but to stop as well. She was smiling softly at him.

"He's so lucky to have you."

"Now you're flattering me."

She laughed under her breath. She reached out and put a hand gently on his arm. "I hope you feel better soon."

Murtagh had to look away. "Thank you."

She squeezed his arm so softly he almost couldn't feel it. "If you ever need someone to talk to, even if you don't naturally think of me, know that I am always available."

"Well, probably not always," Murtagh deflected.

Saphira shook her head, but she looked amused.

"Thanks, though."

"You deserve good things in life, Murtagh. It's about time you see that too."

"I'm working on it," he promised.

She smiled. "Good."

It didn't feel good. Not yet. It was still too unfamiliar for that. But at least he was feeling something about it.

They parted ways there. Saphira headed towards the dorms while Murtagh made his way for the nearest bus stop. The air was still cold and biting, but for once Murtagh didn't really care.

-;-

Murtagh stopped by the mailboxes and had to take a deep breath to make sure what he was smelling was real.

The scent was familiar, but he couldn't quite place it. It didn't feel threatening – on the contrary. It felt warm, safe. It was triggering a usually dormant urge to hunt and seek. Murtagh shook his head and forced it down as he grabbed his mail.

He heard voices from the ground floor apartment as he made his way upstairs. It sounded like Marian and Garrow had visitors. He'd gotten used to the timber of their voices, and there was at least one – if not two – that he didn't recognise. No, three, he corrected once another female lilt joined in.

The voices grew fainter as he reached his floor. They faded away by the time he'd locked himself into his apartment and kicked off his shoes.

He had to give the landlords credit for the building. It felt like bliss stepping into his apartment now. The few sounds he did hear were always loud to begin with; sirens, raised voices, if something happened directly below his windows or directly outside his door. Sometimes he could hear the neighbours upstairs, but not often.

Gone were the days he had to grit his teeth and sit through terrible telenovas, yappy dogs, sex and shouted arguments. The silence came with a price, of course, one he was paying in longer and more frequent shifts at work, but he'd take it.

If things turned sour, as they had a tendency of doing, then at least Murtagh would have had some peace and quiet.

-;-

Murtagh was surprised to look up and see Eragon at the desk for once. His cheeks were so red it was a wonder they weren't on fire, but he seemed determined enough to go through with whatever had brought him there.

He glanced behind Eragon, enough to see Saphira and Aksel pretending very hard like they weren't spying in the background, before giving Eragon his fullest attention.

"Yes?"

Eragon cleared his throat. "I wanted to ask you for a favour."

Now Murtagh was intrigued. He closed the book he had been reading and leaned forward. "I can't promise I'll say yes, but go ahead."

Eragon bit at his lip. "Could you talk to my cousin?"

It took Murtagh a second to remember who Eragon was talking about. "He's still being stubborn?"

Eragon visibly deflated. "Like you wouldn't believe."

"Being a were myself, I can believe that just fine," Murtagh said dryly. "Is this still about his girlfriend?"

"Well, not just," Eragon said. "He's going out of his way to distance himself from everyone in his life. He will scarcely see his parents, even. He's really scared of hurting someone."

"Not all weres get along," Murtagh warned him. His heart was beating a little faster in his chest. It wasn't often he talked about his condition freely and he could feel it. He was always aware of the word leaving his mouth and felt almost scared that it was somehow going to ruin everything.

"Maybe you could talk to him on the phone?" Eragon suggested.

"I would probably get more out of him by seeing him face to face," Murtagh said. "But before we do anything, you need to ask him if he'll see me. He's the newbie here, not me."

A large part of him was shocked at himself. He had basically already agreed to doing what Eragon had asked. He just hadn't said it outright. Had Eragon asked him a few months ago, Murtagh doubted he would have reacted quite as favourably. He wondered how things had changed so quickly.

Eragon nodded. "Yeah, of course, yeah." He shifted on his feet. "Does that mean you'll...?"

"Do it?" Murtagh finished. "If your cousin agrees, sure. But only because I think he's being a stubborn idiot and I have kind of a personal vendetta against them."

Eragon let out a startled laughter.

Murtagh smirked. "Pot, kettle, I know. But at least I'm not ashamed of admitting it."

Eragon blushed and rubbed at the back of his neck. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet," he said. "I haven't done anything."

"Of course you have," Eragon said. "You've already done so much for us and yet here you are, willing to do more. I'll forever be in your debt."

Murtagh cocked an eyebrow. "I thought Aksel was the dramatic one."

Eragon had to bite his lip to stop from laughing.

"Go on. Go back to your friends." Murtagh picked up his book. "I have to go back to pretend I'm very busy. Wouldn't want people to think I was approachable now would I?"

Eragon blushed again and thanked him one more time before running back, almost tripping over his own feet. Murtagh watched him and didn't even flinch when Saphira caught his gaze. She smiled softly and mouthed 'thank you.' Murtagh just shook his head and opened the book again.

He was growing soft, he decided. He just didn't know whether he was happy about it or not.


TBC


A/N As you might be able to tell, things are not going very well for Murtagh and - shockingly enough - he's being quite stubborn about the whole thing. Silly man. And you know how it goes; things have to get worse before they can get better. What does that mean in this context exactly? Well, I guess we'll all have to wait and see.

I hope you all enjoyed the chapter and I'll see you all for the next one. ;) Until then.