A/N: Sorry it's been so long; life, and all that. Many thanks to dragonriderofold for giving me the kick in the pants I needed with all their lovely reviews. Enjoy!
Dark wings, dark words.
The thought rang through King Brom's head the moment his steward told him a raven had arrived from across the sea. With ragged breath, he watched the man cross the room and hold out a rolled piece of parchment. A black, wax seal held the parchment closed, and he could just glimpse the sigil emblazoned upon it; a wolf's head as viewed from the front, positioned in front of a sprawling rowan tree. It was a sigil he knew well, having once belonged to a Great House. But no longer…
Brom nodded to the man absently, eyes trained on the parchment he now held in his hands as the steward made his departure. Shaking fingers traced over the hard wax, curiosity and anxiety waging a vicious battle in his chest. It had been years since he'd last received a raven from his former friend. In those times, they'd still viewed one another as brothers. Now… now, he could not begin to think what message might be contained within the scroll.
Eventually, curiosity won out and he reached across his desk to retrieve a small knife. The silver blade flashed brightly as it broke the seal, like a warning light for what was to come. He set the knife down and began unrolling the thick paper, heartbeat increasing in speed with every second. As the paper unfurled, a pang shot through his chest upon seeing the familiar, hurried script. As boys, he and Morzan would pass each other secret messages when they were in their lessons, their aim to see who might get caught by their tutor. How things had changed between them.
As Brom read, he could practically hear Morzan's sharp voice clear as day, reciting the words.
My old friend,
Many years have passed since our estrangement. It is not my intention to reopen the wounds of the past, but to forge a new future for our two nations. If it is in your heart to broker a peace between us, consider this my official request for a truce. We shall negotiate terms in a neutral location, and on a day of your choosing.
I eagerly await your response.
His sigil marked the bottom of the page in the blackest of ink, and his name looped underneath it. Brom reread the letter several more times, not really believing what he'd seen and interpreted from the words.
Could Morzan truly wish to broker peace? What of the timing of this letter? Less than a month ago, a detachment of his own men had landed upon the shores of Alagaësia and slaughtered Broddring soldiers in cold blood, completely unprovoked. The fact that one of those soldiers had been the king's own son… It sent a chill through the king's blood to even think of it.
White hot anger flashed through him. Years ago, peace had been his goal in regards to Morzan. But in the wake of Murtagh's death, Brom had wanted nothing but retribution; even vengeance, if it could be achieved. But he could not, in good conscience, drag his country into a war that might last years. Though Oran was small, Morzan's followers were many, and they were brutally trained in the art of war. Morzan had certainly seen to that. His greatest worry was that, although Alagaësia could outlast Oran, Oran might just outsmart them.
You called for me? Athkore's voice suddenly cut through his thoughts. Brom looked up to see she'd come in through her usual passage, and was now sitting on her haunches in front of the empty hearth. He must have unconsciously cried out for her in his earlier rage.
A raven, he replied simply, from Oran. Her surprise sent a shockwave down their bond, washing over him. He saw her tail begin to twitch rapidly, and the fur on her hackles raise in alarm.
With a vicious snarl, she uttered, What does the beast-king request of you?
A truce, if you can believe it, he sighed back to her. At that, she straightened up, and her tail ceased its rapid movement. He wishes to meet upon neutral ground and negotiate terms for a peace between our two kingdoms.
I do not trust it, she said plainly, lowering her massive head slightly and causing her cream-colored fur to ripple like a snowfall. His every word is poison. Why seek peace now?
There is no kindness in my heart for him any longer, Brom assured her needlessly. She could sense every inkling of his heart without him uttering a single word. I do not trust this invitation either, my dear friend. But I fear that if we reject it outright, it would be just the excuse he needs to court chaos.
It is likely a trap of some kind, the wolf continued, getting up and pacing in what little space she could. At her age, she'd reached her full size, and was as large as one of the great Forest Bears of the north.
I agree, be it physical or political. But mind you, he warned sharply, I will not let him get away with what happened to my son. By his order or not, Murtagh is dead at the hands of Orani soldiers.
The wolf let out a quiet, high-pitched whimper. Thorn pines for him still, Athkore remarked softly, a note of sadness in her voice. I hear him, in the dead of night, howling upon the city walls.
I have heard him as well, Brom said darkly. He will grieve his partner-of-heart-and-mind until the end of his days, I fear. Is there nothing you can do for him?
Athkore's entire body shook in answer. Is there naught anyone can do for you, great king? To console you in your grief? Brom took her meaning and cast his eyes upon the floor. The aching wound in his heart was still as fresh as the day he'd learnt of his son's fate, prone to tearing open at the barest whisper of Murtagh's name.
Some days, he began quietly, I forget that he isn't here anymore. I feel I can find him in the training yard, or reading with Master Jeod in the library. But then I search for him, and my search is fruitless. I'm reminded then, of how I failed him as a father. First his mother, and now him… A man who cannot protect his own family; what a sorry excuse for a king.
You did not fail him, Athkore snapped, though her eyes remained soft. In a world that treats bastards as vermin, you gave him everything but a title. He was loved, and that is more than many can say.
"And what good did my love do!" Brom cried aloud, suddenly angry. Not with Athkore—never with her—but with himself and his own foolish pride. "I thought I could atone for the atrocities that befell Emà by allowing Murtagh freedom. And it got him killed. I should have protected him! It was foolish to allow him such liberties; it is my fault he is dead!"
Cease this madness! Athkore responded with a sharp yap. You wish to take responsibility for what happened? Very well, I will allow you this small measure: you gave the boy freedom to do what he wished. And yes, that freedom led him to join the cavalry and risk his own neck. But you must give him credit, Brom. He was a man grown, and knew the potential consequences of his decisions. Give him the autonomy of his choice.
Her words settled in him like a stone sinking to the bottom of a lake, the silence left in its wake absolutely deafening. His heart pounded in his ears as he tried to steady his breathing. For as long as he could remember, his temper had been short. But lately, it seemed to be getting worse.
I am sorry, he finally said, my dear friend. I do not mean to unleash my frustrations upon you. These things... I cannot discuss them with Selena, you know this.
She secretly rejoices, Athkore spat derisively. For years, she has been threatened by him. You've seen how she pitted Eragon against him, never allowing them to develop the bond of brotherhood.
You really believe she harbored such vindictiveness within her heart? Even now, after everything, Brom did not want to admit the truth to himself. He'd ignored Selena's petty envy and manipulations for so long; what was the point in harping on them now?
You know why, Athkore cut in quietly, sensing his unuttered thoughts.
Selena could never do such a thing. She... she wouldn't.
You are certain? The wolf's light brown eyes glinted sharply with her meaning, and the fur of her ruff began to bristle.
Brom could feel a dull pounding begin behind his eyes, and his fists clenched involuntarily. Of course the thought had entered his mind, that Selena had been the one to orchestrate Murtagh's death, but he couldn't believe that of her. There had been a time, however long ago, that he had loved her. Perhaps not as deep as the love he'd had for Emà, but love nonetheless. How could the woman he'd once loved—whom he'd believed loved him—betray him in such a way? It was more than he could bear to think about.
I'll not hear this, he scoffed, standing from his desk and turning towards the window. Selena is many things, but a murderer is not one of them. Though he could not see her, he could hear and feel Athkore rise up and pad across the floor. Her hot breath tickled the back of his neck, and her comforting scent filled his senses.
That may be so, her voice echoed ominously, but you must admit that it's exactly what she wanted.
Without another word, the gigantic wolf turned and left the room, the king feeling her absence painfully. Never in his life had he felt as alone as he had over the last month. It felt like everyone and everything he'd ever loved was slipping away from him.
Selena had left him a long time ago, that much he knew for certain. It didn't upset him, her indiscretions. There had been no such relationship between the two of them for years, and he could not begrudge her what she clearly needed. But the further she drifted from him, the more Eragon seemed to despise him for it, as though he was the architect of the boy's misery. Try as he might to develop a relationship with his youngest son, Selena never seemed to retract the claws she'd dug into him.
Only a few weeks ago, they'd seemed to make small strides in mending their relationship. But that was before the raven had arrived from Narda, bearing the news of Murtagh's fate. And now... something in the boy had changed, that much Brom could see. What that change was, however, he was less certain about. It seemed he was spending less time with his mother; Brom only hoped that proved to be in his best interest.
Weeks went by, and the opportunity for Raina to assist Murtagh in getting home never arrived. She certainly tried; gods above, had she done her best. But every time she seemed to get close to success, an obstacle arose to halt what little progress she won for herself.
Although the boat she'd secured for the task wasn't very large, it was still too unwieldy to handle on her own. Bridie was no help, and she couldn't risk pulling anyone else into her subterfuge, so she was left to rely on her magic. But even that could not help her transport a full-sized rowboat without being seen by anyone. Every night, she would move the boat a little at a time, as much as she dared risk before her cowardice took over and she abandoned her quest until the next night.
But all the while, as she labored little by little, night after night, she couldn't ignore what was happening every time she returned to the hut. The way she allowed herself a little more time with him, every day staying later and later into the night. How he seemed to be searching for her every time she arrived, or how he was hesitant to let her go every night. Nearly three months had passed since Murtagh had washed up on the shore, and in that time, she'd become very skilled in slipping in and out of the castle unseen. Bridie covered for her as best she could, but there were times when she'd had to bribe the guards that happened to catch her.
The important thing was that her father never discovered the truth of her whereabouts. Most days, he didn't bother with her at all, too busy with his plotting. There were times—rare times, to be sure—when her presence was required for some event or another, and she'd send Bridie to the storehouse to make her excuses and deliver the daily supplies.
Those were the days when it became more difficult to lie to herself. For those were the days when her heart ached for missing the pleasure of Murtagh's company.
She'd known what was happening for some time now, but that didn't make it any easier to try and stop. What good would it do, falling for him? Raina knew it was folly to become so attached; that it would only bring her heartbreak in the end. But she knew these things were never a matter of logic. And as soon as she could get away, her heart led her down to the beach.
Murtagh had been able to move independently for close to a month now, and in that time his strength had returned. Raina had helped his recovery along, whenever she could get him to sleep and work her abilities on him. When she found herself on the rocky beach that afternoon, he was outside of the hut as well, bare to the waist and sparring against invisible enemies with a long, thin piece of driftwood. He seemed not to notice her until she was practically upon him.
"Bronwyn," he exclaimed with a smile, dropping his makeshift sword and heaving for breath. At his use of the alias she'd given, her own mother's name, Raina bit back the guilt that bubbled in her throat. Another reason she refused to admit the truth of her feelings towards him; how could she proclaim such a thing for a man that she'd lied to from the moment she'd met him? She'd certainly wanted to tell him the truth, for a long while now. But something—an innate sense of self-preservation, she supposed—held her back every time she got close to revealing the truth.
"How are you today?" she asked with a smile, pushing down her confliction until it was nothing but a whisper. She shifted the basket she had draped over her arm, repositioning its weight to be more comfortable. She watched as he walked towards the rocks and retrieved his tunic where it lay draped over a boulder and slipped it over his head.
"Feeling stronger every day," he finally replied, rolling up his sleeves and pushing his collar-length hair out of his face, "but I've lost much of my strength from before... Well, before." Even after these long weeks, Murtagh still could not fully remember what had happened to him that ended with him half-dead in a strange country.
"I am glad to hear it," she replied, strolling purposefully towards the entrance to his makeshift dwelling. He followed behind her, retrieving his driftwood weapon from the sandy ground. They entered the dim room and, after placing the basket of supplies on the table, Raina got to work on starting a fire. It was chilly in the dank space, as it so often was, and she thought the warmth would be most welcome.
Murtagh walked to the washbasin and dampened a cloth, using it to wipe off his sweat-slicked skin. Although there was a chill in the air, he'd worked himself hard this morning. When he'd finished, he perched himself on the edge of his straw bed, quickly catching his breath.
Raina hugged her arms against her chest, willing the chill away. "I estimate it will only take me another week to position the boat so that you might help me," she said softly, having to fight to utter the words. Every day was a struggle, keeping this sickness at bay. For that is surely what love is, is it not? A sickness that spreads and consumes one's entire being.
"A week," he replied quietly. "So soon?" She raised her eyebrows at him, and failed miserably in concealing the small smile that broke across her face. He realized his blunder almost immediately. "W-what I mean to say is—"
"I take your meaning quite clearly, Murtagh," she cut in softly, taking a tentative step towards him. "There is... something I think we should discuss."
Suddenly, he was standing, looming over her with his superior height and broad shoulders. A spark of lightning seemed to pass between them, though neither was touching the other. "From the day I awoke here," Murtagh started quietly, his voice serious, "I have fallen asleep every night dreaming of your face. You saved my life, and you keep saving it still. I will never be able to repay you for that."
She drew in a long breath before replying, "The only payment I need is for my heart to remain intact. You must return to your homeland, Murtagh; that is not up for debate. This place is too dangerous for Alagaësians, especially one such as yourself."
His hand was suddenly resting on her cheek, breathing fire into her body. "Then come with me," he said softly. "Leave this place and return with me to Ilirea."
For a moment, she contemplated the idea. And Murtagh must have seen it in her eyes, for her leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers gently. The shock of it rendered motionless for a moment, but she soon found herself leaning into him, prompting him to kiss her more urgently. Her heart raced at the feel of him; the warmth of his skin under her fingertips; the energy of his life-force saturating her senses. She could have stayed there forever, drowning in his kiss. And it was that thought which scared her, and caused her to pull away.
"Murtagh," she breathed, gasping for air. Her heart felt like it would fly out of her chest. "Please don't do this. It is impossible."
"What is there for you here, Bronwyn? You've told me of your father, how you live in fear of him. Why stay?"
"It..." She hesitated, contemplating just telling him the truth. "I cannot explain it," she finally lied. "But I cannot come with you. Please don't make this harder than it already is."
The desolation upon his face sent a pang through her heart. She wanted desperately to tell him the real reason she could not escape this accursed island, but her fear held her back. When he'd finally admitted the truth of his identity to her, he'd known he had nothing to fear from her. But Raina could not be certain of how Murtagh might react if he learned the truth; not just about her, but about her father too.
There was more to the history between Morzan and Brom than she believed Murtagh knew. In her childhood, she'd grown very skilled in sneaking about and remaining invisible. This ability had granted her knowledge she should not otherwise have possessed. But if Murtagh discovered what she knew... it would not end well for anyone.
"If it is as you say... If it is impossible, then let us make the most of what little time we have left," he said somberly, sitting back upon the bed. Raina's heart dropped into her stomach at that, but she said no more. What she had wished for so long had finally come to pass, yet she felt as empty as she had before Murtagh had come into her life.
Ùna would have called her foolish for such thoughts, but she couldn't seem to help herself. What a sheltered life she had lived, shut away from the outside world. Murtagh had been something new and exciting in the beginning, but had developed into something more. As she thought of the days to come, and envisioned her life without Murtagh in it, she found it difficult to keep her sadness at bay. She knew she would cherish the color he'd brought to her life—even if it had only been for a short time—for many years to come.
Slowly, fighting her better judgment with every step, she walked towards him, hands clasped in front of her waist. He looked up at her expectantly, grey eyes piercing and brow furrowed. Her fur mantle was suddenly stifling with the heat of the fire at her back, and so she slipped it off her shoulders and lay it on the stone floor.
"Whatever lies before us," she said quietly, "let us only live for this moment." Laying one dainty hand on his shoulder and the other on his stubbled cheek, Raina bent over and brushed a tentative kiss over his lips. She had no experience in the ways of such things, but everything about this moment felt natural. Like a piece of her heart that had been missing suddenly appeared, clicking into place to reveal a vast and wondrous landscape.
Murtagh seized her hips with his rough hands, drawing her into his lap and causing the thick wool of her dress to scratch against the bare skin of her thigh. The look of hesitation upon his face concerned her, and she sent him a questioning gaze.
He seemed to swallow a lump in his throat. "I would not dishonor you," he said quietly, his voice hoarse. "I can offer you nothing... nothing but my heart and my word."
She swept a lock of hair from his eyes, her smile full of tenderness. "That is all I would ask of you," she returned, kissing him once more, this time, more insistent than before.
That's all for now folks! Drop me a few lines and let me know what you think! :D
