BLANKET WARNINGS: Eragon/Murtagh INCEST and SLASH! If either offends you, I'm sure you know where the back button is. This is a bit darker than some of my usual stuff- this does deal with homophobia, and I tried to portray Eragon as best I could in his situation (In a homophobic world, he has just realized he's gay, and he has been brought up to be homophobic) while still keeping him IC. I hope I succeeded. Since no one knows exactly what goes on in his head, I think it's pretty believable.
BLANKET DISCLAIMER: I don't own Eragon, or Eldest, bookwise. Chris Paolini does. I only own Talc, Krin, Eruka (though I am borrowing a bit from Naruto for Eruka… And yes, I know that's it's spelled 'Iruka' in the show, I changed the spelling), and the other random OCs through the story . The theory in here is mine as well- that Angela's Prophecy could also be taken to mean Murtagh. (I go a bit in-depth on this through the fic. I have a full copy of the theory in my profile.) If anyone steals it without crediting me and I find you, let's just say I won't be very happy.
This is dedicated to my awesome beta- Tjay Motou! She's been a doll, helping me out with revisions.
Italics: dreams, imaginings
(Parentheses): Mind to mind communication (i.e. between Eragon and Saphira) Why parentheses? Because the site won't let me use carrots…
Last week:
Yawning, he turned under the covers. With one last nuzzle closer to his pillow, he fell asleep.
Pale, callused hand holding his.
Playful kisses, a reward.
His head resting on a strong chest as he fell asleep smiling.
"Eragon..."
Knowing the words, but treasuring them all the same.
"I..."
And now, this weeks installment!
In Dreams V, Part CWhen Eragon woke up the next morning, it felt as though only a moment had passed since he had last shut his eyes. He had gotten no rest from his sleep, but pushed himself out of bed anyway to get dressed for the day.
As he had the previous day, he moved to his wardrobe and grabbed a brown outfit, carefully avoiding the black or the red. He left the unworn pajamas on the floor, quickly discarding his rumpled clothes and pulling on his fresh, clean clothes.
Only then did his mind catch up enough for him to realize he didn't know what to do with himself for the day.
He refused to go into town, which left him with very few options.
He contemplated his sword, resting against the far wall of his room.
'I could spar with some of the others.' he thought doubtfully- none of the men were his match. It would be like watching the largest kid on the playground bully the littlest child, only more brutal. The last time he had had a decent spar was in Du Weldenvarden, and before that the only one who could best him in swords after Brom's death...
He quickly turned his attention to his bow, lying innocently next to his sword. His quiver lay beside it, stacked full of arrows he could use for practice.
It would be an easy, mindless task- he had been shooting arrows long before he had picked up the blade, and was even more skilled at archery than with a sword. He would achieve nothing more than wasting his arrows, and he couldn't afford to let his mind wander. It would be too easy for it to wander into dangerous territory.
He could visit Saphira and Thorn but he would find no refuge there. Saphira would ask questions about why he had kept her from his mind as of late, and Thorn had yet to speak to Eragon. While the blue Rider did feel bad about neglecting Saphira, he couldn't face her today.
He had seen much of Orrin's castle- most of what he had left unexplored were laboratories, and Nasuada had warned him long ago not to set foot in one unless he wanted to lose said foot.
What, then, was there for him to do?
Sighing in frustration, he quickly cinched his swordbelt about his waist and pulled his quiver and bow over his back. He headed for the training field, hoping to find distraction there.
Insert Line
Eragon had just exited the castle doors when a messenger ran up to him. He turned to face the approaching figure, hope blooming in his chest. Perhaps he would have something of worth to do that day after all...
The brown-haired girl stopped just feet from the castle doors, standing tall as she addressed him.
"Sir, Lady Nasuada would like to speak with you. I am to take you to her." she said, bowing slightly. "If you'll follow me?"
He nodded, moving back into the castle he had just left in hopes of entertainment.
He followed the girl across the large lobby, up one of the curved stone staircases and down a small hallway he had overlooked in his wanderings about the castle the other night.
They continued walking down the hall. As they moved, Eragon noticed that the decorations got brighter and more detailed. One gold statue of an angel with life-size wings must have cost a small fortune. It seemed as though the fabulous creature could come alive at any moment.
After several minutes of viewing gaudier and more expensive hall decorations as the corridor stretched on, the messenger stopped in front of a thick oaken door and knocked.
"My Lady, Rider Eragon is here to see you." she called. They waited.
"Bring him in." Nasuada's voice was slightly muffled by the heavy wood, but still clearly audible.
The messenger pushed the door open, stepping inside to hold it for Eragon as he entered the room. As soon as he was clear of the door, she turned, bowed to Nasuada, and left.
The door closed behind her with a dull 'clunk'.
All was silent for a minute. Eragon looked at the leader of the Varden.
She sat behind a desk, covered in all kinds of paperwork, ink, and pens. Two small wooden chairs were in front of the desk, probably for visitors. She seemed tired, with dark circles under her eyes despite the fact that they had just arrived two days ago. She seemed to be scribbling several notes on various sheets of paper, most likely important things considering the Varden's finances.
Finally, she looked up.
"Good- you're here." She said, despite the fact that a messenger had just announced his presence. She motioned to one of the chairs in front of her desk, indicating for him to sit down.
The brunette stepped forward, sliding a chair out. He slung his quiver and bow off his back, setting them down next to his chair and then sat down, shifting a bit to try and make himself comfortable on the hard wood.
Nasuada leaned back in her chair. The silence stretched.
Finally, the leader of the Varden spoke.
"I thought you should know that the elves should be here within a week. Queen Islanzadi sent several of her best magicians to help." Nasuada took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as she relaxed back into her chair.
"Arya informed me by messenger pigeon a few hours ago, and I thought you'd like to know."
"That's wonderful." Eragon said. He meant it too. While other people had doubts, he was certain that- with the elves help- Murtagh would be freed.
He waited, knowing that there was more to this meeting. Nasuada would not have called him just to tell him that the elves were near.
Again, there was a pregnant pause, but Eragon didn't interrupt the silence this time.
Finally, Nasuada sighed.
"I've also decided to give you permission to visit your brother, if you so desire." she finally said.
"What?" Eragon asked, dumbstruck. The word had fallen out of his mouth before he could stop it, but his sentiments were fully behind it.
Of all things she could have told him, this was the most unexpected. It ranked right up there with 'Durza has come back from the dead and is now our ally against Galbatorix in the fight for freedom.'
Yeah, right.
"I might have been too hasty with what I almost sentenced him too." Nasuada said, face softening as they both remembered that she had nearly ordered the red Rider's execution. "And you obviously care about him enough to risk your goodwill among the Varden to see that he wasn't killed."
Eragon's mouth suddenly went dry.
'She's thinking of this is different terms.' he told himself swiftly, trying and failing to reassure himself. 'To her, we're only brothers.'
Still, he couldn't help but think that Nasuada's gaze seemed a bit more knowing than it should. He tried to convince himself it was only paranoia, but...
There was still that intelligent gleam in her eyes.
"Th-thanks." he mumbled, stumbling slightly over the word. He stood, avoiding eye contact with Nasuada as he collected his bow and quiver, turning to exit the suddenly cramped room.
He could feel her eyes on his back- it felt as if they followed him all the way to his room, and only when he shut his door behind him did he begin breathing normally again.
The room had already been cleaned he noticed, absently moving over to the far wall to put his weapons back against it. Once free of them, he moved into the small attached bathroom to splash himself with cold water.
He leaned over the stone basin, the liquid dripping off his face.
He hadn't even considered the possibility...
But why would he have? As far as he knew, Murtagh was still a high-security prisoner. Visiting his brother hadn't even crossed his mind, but now that he had permission it didn't seem so far-fetched.
Not even questioning his motives, he rubbed his face clean and looked up onto the reflective pane of glass hanging above the washbasin.
His hair was untidy, but at least his face was clean.
He began running a hand through his hair, trying to lessen the common 'bed-head' effect of lying down. Slowly, his hair started to lie properly and he realized what he was doing.
Disgusted, he ran his hand roughly through his hair, but this time purposely messed it up. Satisfied with himself- he looked back in the mirror, and the brown strands indeed looked a mess- he turned out of the bathroom, bypassing his weapons and cloak as he headed down to the dungeons.
Insert Line
His footsteps seemed to echo louder as he walked down the long stone staircase.
It had taken him several minutes to find the right staircase, as he hadn't even gone near the dungeons in his previous exploration of the castle. Eventually, he had asked a passing maid who had kindly directed him to the proper set of steps.
As he descended into the cool darkness, he started rethinking his decision.
His footsteps faded into silence as his steps slowed, coming to a full halt halfway down the wide staircase. The choice to come seemed rather impulsive, as he looked back on it.
In fact, the more he thought about it, the worse the idea seemed.
'What was I thinking?'
He was about to turn around and go back up the stairs- despite his lack of entertainment- when a voice stopped him.
"Who's there?"
The deep voice- accompanied by the sound of a wooden chair scraping the floor as the occupant stood- echoed up the staircase.
The blue Rider sighed, walking down the rest of the steps. He couldn't see the guard that had spoken- just beyond the end of the stairs the wall took a sharp turn to the right, effectively shutting the majority of the dungeon off from view of anyone who happened to walk by.
He could hear the guard around the bend shifting nervously in his armor- the sound of cloth rubbing against the metal was unmistakable- as he turned.
As he had suspected, the guard- Eruka, much to his surprise- had stood at the sound of his approaching footsteps, and had also drawn his sword in case he had been an enemy. Eruka was tense, not relaxing until Eragon had stepped into the flickering light cast by a torch on the wall. The warm glow was not nearly enough to brighten up the whole area, but it was sufficient to light the small table and chair the guard on duty would sit at, and one of the nearby cells.
Eruka sheathed his blade, shoulders dropping as the apprehensive tension left his body.
"Lord Eragon. Lady Nasuada told me to expect you, sir." Eruka bowed, though he still seemed oddly tense.
Chains could be heard, clacking loudly against metal and the stone floor off to Eragon's left. A light fluttering went through Eragon's stomach at the sound- he knew that there was only one person down here, one person who could have made that noise.
'Murtagh.' Anticipation and excitement shot through him, even as he tried to curb the reaction.
Eruka straightened, then turned to the partially lit cell he had been guarding. The blue Rider's eyes sought out the figure within the cell, but Eragon forced his eyes away before he could make out more than a vague shape in the dimness.
The guard fumbled with several keys before apparently locating the correct one, jamming the rusty metal into the keyhole with a metallic 'squeak' and turning it. The door clicked open, the rusty hinges squealing like pigs as Eruka pulled the cell door open to allow Eragon entrance.
Eragon nodded thankfully, though his smile was a bit forced. Anxiety was beginning to wear through his excited feelings, and he was unsure how Murtagh would react to his visit. Eruka returned the nod, closing the door noisily behind the Rider (though he did leave it unlocked) and turning to go.
"If you need me, I'll be around the corner, sir." Eruka offered, boots clomping loudly on the stone floor of the dungeon as he walked away from the small cell Eragon now stood in.
"Thanks." the Rider called after the guard, but received no reply.
He hadn't really expected one.
Taking a deep breath, Eragon moved his eyes from the floor- it was so interesting, far more interesting that seeing his brother for the first time in days, of course it was- to where the figure of the prisoner could be seen.
No sound of chains had been heard since he had stepped into the cell- likely, the red Rider was just as shocked by Eragon's presence as the blue Rider was surprised to be there.
Mustering his courage, Eragon looked directly at his brother. Immediately, his mouth went dry.
It really shouldn't have surprise him- he knew that Murtagh would most likely have been given a bath upon arrival. If not out of kindness for the prisoner, then out of kindness for the guards- no one smelled pretty after a week of harsh traveling. Eragon also knew that Murtagh's clothes would probably have been destroyed, and that he would be given something new to wear.
Considering this, it really shouldn't have surprised him that Murtagh was dressed only in a pair of old cotton pants, but it did.
From the way Murtagh was sitting- his feet firmly planted on the ground, legs out in a V-shape with his back leaning against the cool stone wall with his chained arms folded over his knees- his chest was mostly covered, but more than enough showed to prove that the red Rider was shirtless.
Manacles were strapped to Murtagh's wrists, heavy chains anchoring him to the wall. The slack dragged on the ground, scraping lightly against the stone with every movement of the red Rider. Similar manacles were attached around his ankles, anchoring Murtagh to the floor with chain to spare.
The torchlight from just outside the cell walls flickered over the pale skin, giving the whole scenario a dream-like tone, and making the chained man that much more alluring.
Eragon forced his eyes from the pale chest visible past Murtagh's crossed arms, jerking his gaze to meet confused hazel eyes.
As soon as he identified the confusion, it was gone. Pale lips twisted up in a small smile.
Eragon was reminded of the slight, reassuring smile Murtagh had given him days ago, on the road to Aberon.
"Hello brother."
How long had it been since he had heard that voice?
Eragon swallowed, some moisture returning to his throat as he spoke.
"Hello Murtagh."
Silence stretched uncomfortably between them, broken only by the clank of chains as Murtagh moved, and the seemingly distant rustle of armor as Eruka- just feet from the cell, around the corner- shifted.
Eragon opened his mouth to speak, but his thoughts kept getting jumbled as his brother moved, accidentally revealing more pale chest to wide brown eyes.
It was the red Rider who finally broke the silence.
"I suppose I should thank you."
"Thank me?" The words had left his mouth without conscious consent of his mind, but the question was innocent enough and Eragon was truly curious. "For what?"
"You saved my life. That is a not a debt easily repaid." The pale man's eyes moved from Eragon to looking outside of his cell. "Had you not intervened back there, both Thorn and I would be dead."
Hazel eyes met his again, and Eragon had to look away.
Those eyes... it was impossible to look and not drown in them.
"I didn't do it for you." Eragon told the other man. "It was just... The Varden could use more powerful allies, and..." His voice trailed off, his point lost in his jumbled reasoning, proving the point he had attempted to deny.
Much to the blue Rider's relief, Murtagh chose not to comment further on that matter.
"How's Thorn?"
"We're taking good care of him." Eragon replied, tone slightly defensive at the demanding, almost worried tone Murtagh's voice had taken on. "He's under Saphira's guard- he hunts and eats as she does, and they are housed in the same building. He won't talk to anyone but Saphira though."
Murtagh laughed slightly, chains clanking as he shifted again. Unconsciously, Eragon moved closer to the wall opposite Murtagh, trying to keep his thoughts and eyes off of the pale chest that was constantly shown to him.
"At least he still has his pride. Your men have done their best to strip me of that."
The red Rider gestured to his chains with one hand, the innocent move exposing much more of the well-defined chest than Eragon had had the privilege to glimpse thus far in their talk. Brown eyes caught sight of slightly protruding ribs- not very obvious, but enough to indicate that Murtagh had yet to put back on the weight he had lost while being starved by Krin and the other guards. A pang of worry went through his body, but by the time he had formulated a comment, Murtagh's arm had returned to crossing the other and Eragon's nerve was lost.
And seeing so much naked flesh was doing strange things to his stomach.
Abruptly, Eragon decided that his second thoughts on the stairs had been correct- this had been a very bad idea. A very, very bad idea.
"I should go." he said, stuttering slightly as he turned away from his brother and reached a slightly shaking hand for the cell door.
Metal screeched as chains scraped against stone and metal- Eragon didn't need to look to know that Murtagh was now standing, but his gaze was drawn as if by a magnet.
The slack for the chains holding Murtagh's arms only stretched so far, allowing the red Rider to stand up but not much else. His arms were held firmly down at his sides. The leg chains were slightly more forgiving, allowing Murtagh a single step closer to the blue Rider before he was held in place, one foot slightly in front of the other. The cotton pants he wore were slung low on his hips, looking almost as if they would slide completely off his body at any second. His naked upper body was now on full display, chest puffed out slightly as Murtagh strained against the chains holding him back.
It was though something had flipped a switch in Eragon's mind- all the thoughts he had been successfully repressing were now flooding his mind at the sight of his brother's revealed flesh. With a sinking heart, Eragon realized memories of his dreams could not be far behind.
"You haven't met my eyes for more than a moment since you came here, and now you're leaving." Murtagh's voice was low, and Eragon could not pick out the emotions heating the words with some unnamed passion. "Look at me, brother."
"I want to see your face..."
Eragon froze, eyes on his brother's body as unwanted dreams flooded back into memory, taunting him.
Now was the worst time to be having flashbacks and remembering such things, but they persisted even as he tried to banish them from his mind. Even as he tried to stem the flow and dam the river of memories, they kept coming just as strongly.
Pressure. Pain.
Eragon nearly choked on the air as the images intensified. Knowing he would be unable to stop them- he couldn't even move, frozen by fearful longing- he prayed that his distress wasn't visible to Murtagh.
Until his limbs decided to allow his motion again, he was paralyzed and powerless.
Strong hand in his.
Gentle reassurances.
"Are you ashamed of me?"
Murtagh's angry voice temporarily broke through the haze created by the images- the blue Rider was grateful for the reprieve until his brother's question sunk in.
"What?" He knew his voice was shocked and his inquiry stupid, but the word had escaped him before he had a chance to form a complete thought.
Full. Complete.
Pleasure.
The dreams whirled around in his mind, playing out like a video with him strapped to a chair and forced to watch.
He had hoped that he would have been able to see his brother without his dreams rearing their ugly heads, but he should have known that hope had been in vain.
Movement.
Gasps. Moans.
Endearments.
Sweetest tension.
Jerking his eyes up from Murtagh's chest- unable to say when his gaze had fixed upon the smooth, pale skin- he noted that the red Rider's lips were moving. He could hear the sound, but the words were of little consequence to his fantasy-soaked mind.
He tried to concentrate on the words spoken, catching only some of the words.
Their eyes met.
"Are you ashamed to have me as your brother?"
Closer.
Bad and good and pleasure and pain...
Closer.
"You are not a brother to me." an odd, strangely sad voice uttered.
Dead silence.
With horror, Eragon realized it had been his voice that had spoken those words- those damning words.
While the phrase itself may have seemed cruel, the tone the blue Rider spoke in said volumes about the reality of the situation.
Breathy moans.
Wordless gasps.
Strange longing mixed with pain and even need had made up the raw emotion in the sentence. It was impossible for anyone to believe Eragon's feelings ran strictly in hate for the red Rider.
Impossible for anyone to mistake the emotion as being strictly platonic. Impossible to take the true words back, as much as Eragon wished to recall them.
"Eragon..." Shock. Uncertainty.
"Eragon..."
Release.
Collapse.
Embrace.
His limbs suddenly seemed capable of movement again. Frightened by what he had just revealed, Eragon pushed himself into action, shoving the cell door open with a loud squeal of the rusty hinges and darting out and away from the man still trapped in the cell.
Eragon shoved the loud door closed behind him, not daring to look back in case his body froze again. He ignored the sound of his brother calling his name as he darted down the short hallway, turning the corner quickly and smiling at Eruka in thanks as he raced up the stairs.
Eruka had a bewildered expression as he watched the blue Rider run past, but it mattered little. Eragon wasn't certain if the guard had been close enough to hear the last part of their conversation, when he had damned himself with one thoughtless sentence, but he probably hadn't been.
Comforted slightly by the thought, the brunette's pace slowed only after reaching the top of the stone steps. Instead of racing through the halls to his room, he kept his head down and walked quickly until he was outside a familiar doorway.
He turned the knob, nearly falling into his room in the attempt to find himself on safe ground again.
He shut the door behind himself as soon as he was far enough in. As the loud 'slam' echoed through the room, he could almost hear another sound...
Whisper.
"I..."
He threw himself down on his bed, boots and all, more miserable than he could ever remember being.
Had he ever decided to speak of his abnormality to anyone, Murtagh would not have been his first choice- his brother wouldn't even be on the list. Had he ever decided to speak of who he loved and dreamt of, it would not have been to Murtagh.
'"You are not a brother to me."'
If only those words had come out harshly- cruel words would have caused a rift, most definitely, but in time those harsh words would have been forgotten, and Eragon forgiven.
The desire he held was something even he himself abhorred. No one would forgive him for this.
Berating himself for letting his impulses and heart take over what should have been a brain function, he flipped over onto his back to face the ceiling.
Loving Murtagh like he did... that was something he couldn't stop just yet. As much as he wanted to, it would take time for his mind to convince his heart that being in love with his brother was wrong.
Uneasy and- though he would never admit it- unhappy with his decision to pretend the conversation in Murtagh's cell had never happened, and that he felt no more for Murtagh than anyone felt for kin, he sat up. It was still much too early in the day for sleep, besides the fact that Eragon knew he would be unable to.
He moved so he was sitting cross-legged on his messy bed, hands resting on his knees as he began to clear his mind.
Oromis- his elven teacher- had taught his meditation and Eragon was quite skilled at it by now. Perhaps the oblivion of being one with everything else, instead of just himself, for a while would help calm his heart, mind, and body.
It was not much, but it was worth a try. As the haze of emotions drifted from his mind, Eragon allowed himself a small smile.
He allowed his mind to separate itself from his worldly woes, and his consciousness drifted into a stream of white light as he stopped being 'Eragon' and became everything, from the smallest mouse to the largest horse. He still retained enough of himself to avoid the dragons, as well as the dungeon area he could sense as he merged with the rocks of the castle as well.
All consciousness, all worry, all thought... stopped.
He was free, if only for a little while.
TBCA/N: Did anyone predict that Nasuada would give such permission- or that the meeting between Eragon and Murtagh would go the way it did? Poor Eragon- he just can't keep his mouth shut sometimes, can he?
Next Week: Something a certain character said will be put into play next chapter- let's make some new friends, shall we? Ten points (not that the points matter- that's right, the points don't matter at all!) to whoever guesses who said the phrase giving you all the information you need to guess what happens next week! (I think it's fairly obvious, but then again, I wrote it!)
Review Replies!
Thebrunetteditz- Thank you, and thank you again! I'm so happy you liked it- shows me my writing is worth something, at least! I try my best! Hopefully this cured some of you anxiety about Murtagh and Eragon speaking… not that you were anxious, not at all… (smiles)
October Morning – I know you can't see, but I'm blushing. Seriously- I'm so happy you liked it! I always try to put in enough detail to make things descriptive and to create a picture, but I don't try to go on and on about silly little details… And not only do YOU want that wardrobe, I want it… I'm happy you liked the description of the clothes- I figure if I have to describe them anyway, why not make it interesting? Besides, the colors lend themselves very well to angst! I agree with you- eyes are wonderful things. I personally love eyes- one of the main things I look for in another person, since eyes can mean so much and be so expressive!- and so I always use eye expression somewhere in my stories. Besides, eyes are easy to use instead of 'he', 'she', or the person's name or nickname. It keeps the story from being repetitive. I hope you continue enjoying this just as much!
Shauna- Your internet failed? I hate it when that happens- especially when there's something I really wanted to do! So the angst was good? I'm particularly proud of that chapter myself, especially since pretty boys angsting is so fun… Was this good M/E interaction? I'll try to post on time next time- I wanted to post yesterday, but my teachers gave a lot of homework. I'm glad you like Nasuada- she's cool, so I like pulling her out every now and again!
CaramelBoost- I know it's sad, but it's true. I'm trying to keep him as IC as possible while still trying to show how horrible this world can be to homosexuals. I haven't been able to bring lots of homophobia into the story, but at least I can use flashbacks, ne?
FangedWriter- The marketplace was just fun to write- and I was pretty sure that no one saw THAT coming. Besides, it sets up something later on…
phycoticlover04 – It's not something that can be over so quickly, but yes they do get together. I couldn't end my story until they did! I'm flattered by the compliment as well- it's always nice to hear I did something right!
Gloria Monday – I was so happy when I checked and found out that I got so many reviews too! I could hardly believe it! As for the whole marketplace thing- one, so happy you liked it! Two, remember Eragon grew up in rural Alagaesia, and he's now in urban Surda. Two different countries, so they'll have different policies, so hopefully that difference is a bit more believable now! I also rarely venture from the anime section- of all my fics (somewhere in the thirties total, though not all are posted here) only 5 are from series other than anime.
Kaylen- A lot of people seem to like that wardrobe! (smiles) If only it existed- if it has, I haven't seen it. Lots of people liked the marketplace scene too- and I must admit that was probably the part I most enjoyed writing for that chapter. As for Nasuada- were you right? Did you know what she was going to say?
Eryl- I love Surda- and Chris Paolini never DID show us a clear picture of the place. I figured I was free to take some liberty! I hope you enjoyed Murtagh and Eragon's chat- I know you've been waiting!
Geek Squared 1307 – Aw, you're making me blush! I couldn't just play with Eragon and not have him angst- he really needed the kick in the pants, so to speak. This way- you're totally right- he has to really think about what he wants, and we have to see if he can let go of what had been drilled into his mind since he was young once inside a friendly environment and with someone that li-ikes him! (singsong voice!) This story was mainly a product of many videos I saw on homophobia- I just got so angry with everyone that took part in bashing homosexuals, so I figured it was high time I did a fanfic with a semi-realistic portrayal of such things. (Besides, this gives me a good way to vent anger at everyone who is homophobic- I can simply beat the homophobic idiots to a bloody pulp in this story, or at least make them see the error of their ways…)
Mantineus- (bows) Thank you! It just makes me so happy you like it! Having such a loyal reader is nice- one of the best compliments I could get!
