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. The only character I own is Talc, because I made him up while writing this. 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.
A/N: Sorry about the wait! The next chapter is here, although not beta'd as of yet. If you see any mistakes, feel free to point them out! Note that I may be changing parts of the chapter if it's not up to snuff. I just didn't want to make you guys wait any longer.
Thanks to Evanescent Silence, who helped me with this chapter!
In Dreams XIV
Eragon sat silently next to Murtagh's bed in the Varden's makeshift hospital. The cut on his forehead had been washed and his ribs set and bandaged, as well as his burn, at Nasuada's insistence. His right forearm had needed to be stitched as well as the gash on his thigh. His broken leg had been set and healed, but as other casualties had arrived, some in far more critical conditions, the rest of Eragon's wounds were left to heal naturally.
The leader of the Varden hadn't come out unscathed, Eragon had dully noted. A cut on her face had been healed too quickly, leaving her with a scar from the corner of her mouth to her hairline, a fingernail's width separating her eye from the scar. Three fingers from her right hand had been cut off - pinky, ring, and middle - and the blue Rider had noticed her limp as she walked away to makes sure the teams of searchers - those least injured - were combing the battlefield thoroughly for the wounded.
The makeshift hospital Eragon was in had quickly been filled. At least one hundred men lay on 'beds' of blankets, a healer among them to monitor their condition. The smell of bandages, blood, and death was thick in the air.
Eragon could hear other hospital tents being set up, and the moans of those slowly bleeding to death from battle wounds.
Talc had been brought in shortly after Murtagh, Eldan supporting him. The blonde's leg had been broken and his chest and head were in need of bandages. Eldan had fared little better - one of the man's eyes was gone, his wrist broken, but other than that had only scratches too small to require a bandage. Eldan hadn't moved since he had brought Talc in, his usual exuberance gone.
Eragon's magic was slowly coming back after he had expended most of it to keep Murtagh with him through Galbatorix's summoning spell and then to try and heal his brother. The blue Rider didn't have enough magic to be of any help, and if he had enough he may have felt guilty for just sitting by Murtagh's bedside and watching the unsteady rise and fall of his brother's chest.
The red Rider's only wound was from the spell Galbatorix had cast. His ribs were a bit bruised from crashing into Eragon, but they would heal quickly enough on their own. Eragon had tried to heal his brother, using the very dregs of his power, but the miniscule amount of magic he had been able to use had not affected the spelled injury at all. It had been awful, summoning up what magic he could without killing himself and realizing it had no effect. Eragon had taken Murtagh to the Varden's healers next, and his horror had only deepened when the healers' magic had no effect either.
It was after they had failed that one of the healers made the most troubling discovery.
The spell was feeding off of Murtagh's magic and growing in strength. The longer it took them to remove the spell, the more power it would take. The spell was already beyond Eragon's level to handle and the soul-stealing spell was totally unknown. The only option for removal would be some sort of ritual, but with no background on the spell there was no base to work from; an entirely new ritual would need to be created.
The time to create something so complex... it wasn't time they had. Riders did have lots of magic, more so than normal mages, but even a Rider had a finite supply. Eventually, Murtagh's magic would run out.
Eragon felt like shifting so he could hug his knees to his chest, but he didn't have the will to move.
Brom's words of warning floated through his mind.
'"To run out of magic means to die. You can use it until all you have left is a tiny spark, since a spark can be fanned to an inferno. You will be exhausted, but you will live."'
Eragon had worn himself down to that single spark, but with Galbatorix's spell consuming Murtagh's magic, the other Rider would die.
The madman's spell had even consumed the magic he and the healers had poured into Murtagh. Unless they completely overpowered the spell, removing it wasn't an option. If they tried to remove just pieces of it at a time, the spell would only swell with the magic trying to destroy it.
No one had that kind of power.
All Eragon could do was sit by Murtagh's bedside and berate himself for putting the other Rider there. Eragon had never felt more useless and helpless in his life.
If he had been a bit faster, a bit stronger, a bit... more, maybe Murtagh wouldn't have gotten hurt. Maybe Krin wouldn't have died.
Something in his chest constricted at the memory of the teenager. The memory of Krin's death was still raw and grief over the loss of his 'little brother' coupled with worry for Murtagh formed an aching hollowness in his chest, as though his heart had been replaced by a void. Little seemed to matter anymore.
Eragon's eyes flicked to where Eldan kept vigil by Talc's bed. The brown-haired man held his partner's hand quietly, but his knuckles were white. Every so often Eldan would run his fingers through Talc's hair, mindful of the bandage encircling his husband's head.
The gestures seemed to reassure Eldan. A wave of longing swept through Eragon, welling up beside the hollowness in his chest.
His gaze moved to Murtagh's hand.
The one closest to him lay limp, palm-up and pale against the faded grey blanket that made up the red Rider's 'bed'.
With skin paler than milk and the unnatural stillness of those knocked unconscious, it was as if Murtagh was just a corpse. Only the ragged yet eerily quiet breathing indicated that the man still lived. Keeping his eyes on that movement was Eragon's only comfort.
If only he could reach out and take his brother's hand, but something made him hesitate.
'"You're no longer my cousin."'
Roran hadn't spoken to him since that day.
Another image, this of betrayed hazel eyes, flashed through his mind.
He had been so thoughtless that day, so cruel to Murtagh, but Murtagh had still protected him at great personal cost. There had been a moment just before the battle when the red Rider had looked up at him so openly. Murtagh, who had given up his cloak simply so Eragon wouldn't be cold.
Murtagh, to who he owed so much.
Roran, who had abandoned him as soon as he found out that Eragon wasn't 'normal'.
Eragon chuckled hollowly.
He'd made a mess of everything, hadn't he? Being afraid to admit how he really felt had done nothing except cause all these problems.
It had seemed like such a good idea - kiss Murtagh, be cured of his abnormality, preserve his ties to Roran and his brother. It had backfired so terribly. Maybe if he had just been honest with everyone - himself included - maybe he wouldn't be sitting here now, watching Murtagh fade away under the power of Galbatorix's spell.
It was too late to go back and fix everything, but maybe when they found the means to heal the other Rider everything would be all right. After they found the cure and he and Murtagh went after Galbatorix together, maybe he could tell Murtagh what he hadn't been able to before. Maybe everything would turn out okay.
He couldn't keep hesitating, wondering what everyone else would think. He couldn't just pretend anymore, not when he had admitted to himself what Murtagh meant to him. He couldn't keep making himself miserable to make others happy.
He couldn't hesitate anymore.
Not even for Roran.
If Roran couldn't accept him as he was, then so be it. He would always consider Roran a brother, even if his cousin could never see him the same way.
Slowly, a small part of himself still shocked at his daring, Eragon reached out a hand, reaching for Murtagh's. Just before he made contact, a voice calling his name startled him and he retracted his hand as though he had been reaching for a raging fire.
Arya stood at the hospital's entrance - a flap of the tent that was left loose. Her green eyes were apologetic as she took in Eragon's almost guilty expression and his body's unconscious lean towards Murtagh.
"Eragon," she said, apologetic expression not influencing her voice in the least. "Nasuada needs to see you."
Her eyes grew mournful as they rested briefly on the red Rider, Eragon noted, taking in the rest of his friend's injuries. A bandage peeked out from her left sleeve and her leg was bandaged from knee up. Her neck had a few white strips of cloth wrapped around it and the area around her right eye was bruised. Even so, she seemed in better condition than some of the other Varden members he had seen.
"Is it urgent?" he asked, voice uninflected. He didn't want to leave, but couldn't refuse if Nasuada truly needed him. Even if all he could do was wait and watch, this was where he belonged.
"I'm afraid so." Arya told him gently.
Eragon turned back to Murtagh, words sticking in his throat, caught in a lump that seemed to have formed.
The elf could sense his reluctance, and the cause.
"I'll watch him while you're gone." she offered. "But you have to go."
"I know." Eragon stood, eyes still focused on his fellow Rider's still form. He forced himself to turn away, meeting Arya's green eyes. "Thanks."
"It's no trouble." Arya replied, smiling reassuringly. "We'll find a way to cure him, Eragon."
"Do you really believe that?" he asked tonelessly. Nothing was worse than false hope; even as he hoped there was a way, one that they would find soon, if there was no possible way to save Murtagh he'd rather know than be allowed to hope.
"Of course." Arya's immediate reply helped reassure Eragon more than her smile had. He managed a weak grin in return before moving past the elf towards the tent flap.
He could hear her move to the spot he had just vacated as the flap of cloth fell shut behind him.
LINE BREAK
It hadn't taken Eragon long to find Nasuada's base of operations. He had been inside the first hospital since it had been put up and hadn't properly seen the camp yet.
Two other hospital tents had already been set up next to the tent he had just left; a fourth hospital was being set up as he watched. Across the large field was another, much smaller tent that various Varden members were near constantly entering and exiting. From what he could remember of flying here after the battle and brief visit with Thorn, the camp was on the Alagaesian side of the Tudosten Pass - it was the largest area available, since getting to the Surdan side would mean going through the wall of rocks used to block off the pass and make the ambush possible.
Between the hospitals and Nasuada's tent was just a large, grassy plain. Pits were being dug for fires later on. Other men were presumably gathering wood or retrieving the supplies for the party that would no doubt take place in honor of their victory.
Even those soldiers who had been their enemies a few hours ago were assisting with the merrymaking. Galbatorix had been the embodiment of fear for them as well - only those who had lost friends or family seemed to hold any grudge against the Varden, but the men who seemed angry were few and far between from what Eragon could see. A small group of red and black clad soldiers sat by the small copse of trees on the edge of camp.
No one was worried about them running. Even if they did, where to? What could they do?
Eragon made his way to Nasuada's tent, shoving the questions out of his mind.
To his surprise, when he opened the tent flap, he found the Varden's leader alone. She sat on the grassy ground, papers and plans spread out before her. A single candle helped the fading sun light the tent, casting a flickering glow on her dark-skinned face and emphasizing her scar. She had been studying a map, but at the sound of someone entering the tent she looked up.
Upon recognizing Eragon, she motioned for him to sit across from her. He followed her silent direction, sitting cross-legged on the ground just inside the circle of candlelight.
"Arya told me you wanted to see me." he said as he settled himself. Nasuada nodded in reply before she began to speak.
"Thorn woke up a while ago - he's already with Saphira in their own field. We saw them fly over a short time ago. I thought you'd like to know."
Eragon nodded his thanks, though he could sense this wasn't the reason she had called him. Even so, he was grateful for the information. Saphira had flown to the large field after checking that the ruby dragon was okay. After leaving Eragon and Murtagh, she had flown back to Thorn to wait for him to wake up. Eragon had made a brief preliminary report to Nasuada earlier where he explained what had happened to Murtagh.
Nasuada took a deep breath before continuing, seeming to hesitate. Her unease sent alarms ringing through Eragon's head. The blue Rider was suddenly very sure he didn't want to be there at that moment, though he didn't know what was causing the woman to hesitate.
"Has Murtagh shown any change in condition?" she asked carefully. Eragon shook his head slowly, looking down.
He heard her sigh.
"I was afraid of that." she muttered, mostly to herself but Eragon's ears caught the whispered phrase. Before he could ask her what she meant, she continued on. "Do you know which direction Galbatorix went? Any clue where he might have gone?"
"Northwest. I don't know where he went." the blue Rider replied, confused by the random change of topic.
Nasuada seemed to have expected his response, filing the direction away in her mind as she turned back to her map.
"Our first priority is to find and kill Galbatorix." she said, finding and marking the Pass with her finger. "We'll start the search tomorrow - you'll be by yourself, you can cover more ground if it's just you and Sap-"
"What about Murtagh?" Eragon interrupted, finding his voice through the shock. A cold feeling settled into his stomach, churning it. Murtagh was dying, he couldn't just leave! He had thought they would wait to find the former king until after the red Rider was restored to health - surely they wouldn't just abandon Murtagh? Eragon knew his brother had been a great help to the ground forces, and had Murtagh and Thorn still been under Galbatorix's control the Varden would have lost.
He lifted his gaze to meet hers. To his shock and growing horror, she looked away as if ashamed. The coldness in his stomach spread to encompass his entire body in that second, heart shuddering as he waited for her to say anything that wouldn't confirm the dark suspicions growing in his mind.
"The healers have confirmed that the spell is feeding off of his magic. There's nothing we can do. No one in the Varden is strong enough to lift the spell. Not even you."
She sounded resigned. He stared at her dumbly, numb and silent.
"If we wait to follow Galbatorix we'll lose whatever trail he may have left behind. If he escapes, he'll just become stronger and stronger and then return to wipe us out. We need to strike while he's alone and friendless."
Nasuada's attention was deliberately on the map, eyes carefully focused away from Eragon.
"What about Murtagh?" he asked again, voice hollow and weak. The answer was one he knew he didn't want to hear, but the question needed to be asked.
"He'll be buried as a hero. His name will be remembered well, as one of the heroes of the Varden who helped us defeat Galbatorix."
"Murtagh's not dead yet." Eragon's voice became heated, anger stirring at Nasuada's way of referring to Murtagh, as if the red Rider was already dead instead of lying in a hospital bed, a curse slowly consuming him. "We can still-"
"It's impossible. The only way to help Murtagh would be to overpower the spell, but I already told you no one has enough power." Nasuada's voice was firm, though she still refused to meet Eragon's eyes.
"We could at least try, instead of abandoning him as if-" Nasuada cut him off.
"You swore loyalty to me."
Eragon's mouth snapped shut at her cold words. He had considered the woman more his friend than his boss - he had never thought she'd do something as cruel as order him away from the deathbed of someone he loved.
Nasuada looked up from the map then, face betraying what her tone had not - sadness, sympathy, but she was resolute.
"The Varden needs you. As long as Galbatorix is out there, we haven't fully won. He'll return and we're no match for a Dragon Rider without one of our own. With you, the victory is ours. Without you, we'll be destroyed."
Eragon could only nod slowly, biting his tongue to keep from saying the first three things that sprang to mind.
"Is that all, Lady Nasuada?" he asked once he was sure he wouldn't snap at her. As it was, his tone was cold and distant, formal as he had never bothered to be with her before in private.
"Eragon-" Nasuada sounded truly regretful, but then she cut herself off. The look in her eyes hardened with the strength of her conviction that her decision was what was best for the Varden. "Yes, Rider, that is all. Report tomorrow at dawn."
Her speech was as impersonal as his, leader to subordinate instead of friend to friend. Her eyes, however, showed her hurt, but Eragon couldn't find it within himself to be sympathetic. He nodded once, respectfully, then stood. He brushed off his pants out of habit, then turned towards the tent flap.
"Era- Rider," Nasuada said, causing him to pause. He didn't turn. "- there will be a festival tonight to celebrate the victory, though..."
She hesitated, then her voice slipped back to a friendlier, more sympathetic tone.
"-I'll understand if you don't show."
Not trusting himself to speak, once again Eragon nodded. He left, heading back to the hospital.
If he truly had to leave at dawn tomorrow, he would spend as much time with his dying brother as he could. The very thought made his chest tighten and eyes water. Nothing changed the simple fact that the Varden was abandoning Murtagh, letting the red Rider die without really trying to save him.
Sometimes, Eragon thought as he headed over the field, the world really was too cruel.
LINE BREAK
He was flying without wings, a blurred but familiar landscape far below.
Light emanated from his body in all directions, illuminating the impossibly tall mountains all around him.
He dove.
The cave inside the tallest mountain called to him, called to the light he brought.
He was suddenly surrounded by rock, the stone in the middle of the cavern giving off that same comforting yet eerie glow.
Silver shone in the darkness as a dragon stepped from the shadows into the light.
It bowed.
(Welcome) it said, voice echoing and seeming to fill every part in his mind. The voice was deep and masculine, high and feminine, everything and nothing, like the echo of a thousand voices.
He frowned - he could have sworn that the dragon had said more, had said something important-
But the cavern, stone, and dragon had already faded into darkness.
Eragon sat up suddenly, black cloak that he had covered himself with pooling in his lap. He was breathing heavily and fully awake with the strength of his realization.
He had thought earlier how similar these 'dragon dreams' were to the dreams he had had of Arya when the princess had needed to be rescued. It wasn't just that they were similar, but that they were the same. Somewhere, the dragon and that cave actually existed. The dreams weren't just products of his mind, but messages.
As to why he was having the dreams now...
The answer hit him like dragonfire.
'"Then, when all seems lost and your power is insufficient, go to the Rock of Kuthian and speak your name to open the Vault of Souls."'
All it took was one look to his right to see how insufficient his power was.
Eragon's eyes took in, yet again, his brother's face. Murtagh hadn't woken up yet, hadn't even shown a sign of stirring.
The mountain had to be the 'Rock' Solembum had spoken of, or the stone inside the cavern. Perhaps the glowing stone itself was the Vault of Souls, or perhaps it was the dragon, but he had to find that place and he had to take Murtagh with him.
That dream, that place, the power there could be the key to removing the terrible spell Galbatorix had cast.
All he had to do was find it.
An exhilarated smile stretched across his face before he recalled Nasuada's determination that the first priority would be locating and killing Galbatorix. He doubted she'd let him run off to find the cavern, especially if he had to explain he had seen it in a dream.
His hand clenched part of the cloak - he had made a brief detour in his return to the hospital in order to fetch it. The night was getting chilly. He had sat at Murtagh's side for nearly an hour, listening to the sounds of men getting ready for a festival outside the tent.
He had held Murtagh's hand for that hour, unable to stop himself after learning that the Varden would have no problems leaving Murtagh to die while sending Eragon to fight their enemy for them. Though the red Rider couldn't respond, holding his brother's hand had been comforting for Eragon.
Murtagh's hand had been warm, not unnaturally cold as he had feared because of the man's unusual paleness. Eragon had been able to pretend that his brother's fingers, though slack, were folded around his own hand willingly.
No one had seemed to notice their joined hands, which was a bit of a guilty relief for Eragon. Just because he had accepted who he was now didn't mean he was anywhere near ready to shout it from the battlements of a castle. He had come a long way to just allow himself to be who he was.
After that hour, he had lain down for a quick rest, exhausted by the emotions and the fight he had gone through that day. He had unhooked Ceszori from his belt, not having bothered to change beyond what was necessary to dress his wounds, laying the weapon beside himself.
Sounds of laughter and cheering reached his ears from outside the tent. He turned towards the sound, uncomprehending for a moment until more details of his meeting with Nasuada came back.
'"-there will be a festival tonight-"'
The festival must have already started, Eragon realized. He glanced back at Murtagh's unconscious face.
'"You swore loyalty to me... The Varden needs you... we're no match for a Dragon Rider without one of our own."'
Eragon knew the power of the Vault of Souls could help Murtagh; why else would Solembum have mentioned it? What other situation could he possibly need magic more than right now?
Even so...
He looked back towards the tent flap, sounds of merriment still drifting towards his ears.
The Varden needed him too. If Galbatorix returned while he was gone, all it would take was a burst of fire and the Varden would be gone. The mages would be no match all by themselves, especially if taken by surprise. Even if the evil former king was wounded he could heal himself. The ground fighters would never even touch him - Shruikan wouldn't need to land.
If he stayed, he could defend the Varden and possibly defeat Galbatorix. He was more familiar with the former king's fighting style now - as long as he stayed wary and watched for the soul-sucking spell, he had a chance.
Sacrifice Murtagh and perhaps save the Varden and Alagaesia. Trade one life to spare hundreds more and end suffering for thousands.
Or leave the Varden and perhaps save Murtagh, perhaps doom Alagaesia to decades more of Galbatorix's rule. The former king would have no trouble taking back his throne if Eragon was not with the Varden to defend it.
It should have been a simple choice. His duty was to the Varden; even if the one life he had to sacrifice belonged to the person who meant the most to him, he should choose to protect the lives and happiness of a nation rather than the life and happiness of one.
It should have been simple.
Eragon squeezed his eyes shut, one hand pressed to his head and the other to his chest. No matter what he chose, there would be suffering. Two paths had opened before him, splitting in perfectly opposite directions and no way to move forward until he chose.
Eragon pressed his hand more firmly against his chest, as if the action could stem the hurt. He had been a simple farmboy, once upon a time - he had never wanted nor expected to make these sort of choices. For a moment he hated the circumstances that had led him here, to this decision, but his anger burned out quickly.
Finding Saphira's egg had also been the best thing to happen to him. He couldn't hate her, no matter what kind of choice he faced.
Once he chose, there would be no going back. Trying to do both at once would only end in failure at both.
The loud laughter and joy of the victory could be heard, muffled only slightly by the tent.
Behind him, he could hear Murtagh's uneven breathing.
He needed to choose. Unless he decided soon, time would make the decision for him.
'"Report at dawn."'
Slowly, his muscles relaxed. He let his arms fall to his sides and opened his eyes. He had made his decision before he had even been consciously aware that he needed to choose. All that remained was to follow through.
His magic had been greatly restored by the nap and, while he wasn't at full power, there had to be something he could do to make this easier.
The Varden would survive without him for a while, especially since he wouldn't leave them unprotected.
As if in a dream, his hands fell to his belt, the belt that had once belonged to Beloth the Wise. The belt embedded with twelve diamonds.
Diamonds which could be used as focus points for a ritual, one of protection. Eragon had never been more grateful for doing research on rituals. A protection ritual was simple, less risk, yet effective.
It would do.
Smiling ruefully, he took off the belt and turned it over in his hands. His fingers traced the gems hidden behind the extra strip of leather before wandering to the cord and pulling it aside to reveal the precious stones.
They gleamed faintly in the light that filtered in from outside, a dull gleam as they were currently empty of magic. The belt had been a gift from his second mentor, Oromis, a priceless treasure of the elves and an heirloom for the Riders.
Eragon made a mental note to apologize later as he reached for Ceszori.
LINE BREAK
Eragon crept back to the hospital, exhausted and dirty. Dirty clung to his clothes and sweat collected on his brow, but it was worth it.
He had just visited with the dragons - Thorn was still awake, which Eragon was grateful for. The red dragon didn't seem to be suffering Murtagh's pain which would aid them in the long run.
Saphira had sensed his coming but not his intentions. It hadn't taken him long to explain and neither dragon had voiced any argument. Thorn had been positively enthusiastic from the moment the words 'I may know how to help Murtagh' passed Eragon's lips. The ruby dragon had wanted to leave immediately, fly down through the party and grab Murtagh before fleeing, but there were things that needed to be taken care of first. Eragon had left, promising to return to their clearing as soon as he could.
The blue Rider had needed to sneak around the party, but no one had paid him any mind. He hadn't expected anyone to, distracted by the party, but to be sure no one noticed him he wore Murtagh's black cloak. With it on and the hood pulled up, he was almost invisible in the night. He had carried on his preparations unnoticed by any of the merrymakers or those mourning for friends and loved ones lost.
Had anyone seen his behavior, he had no doubt Nasuada would hear about it soon after.
The gems he had buried in a large triangle around the camp, the caches forming the points. Each point was an equal distance from the two others and three diamonds had been buried at each site - he would keep the other three in case of emergencies.
Provisions had been laughably easy to obtain. He had simply walked into the festival proper and begun helping himself to the platters of bread and cheeses laid out on the fallen trees that served as tables. He had quickly amassed enough food for a week before slipping out with no one noting his presence.
His bag had been left with the rest of the Varden's things, but a few minutes of digging had provided him his bag and an easy way to carry the food. He had quickly packed and taken the bag to the dragons. He was fortunate in that the Varden had no yet moved the dragons' saddles elsewhere - he had set them up for flight, tying his pack onto Thorn. He had remained with the dragons for some time, composing a letter.
The ruby dragon had been restless, impatient to leave. He constantly glanced towards the sky, waiting for the moon to pass over the sky and listening intently for the moment the noise level from the party dropped. The only thing that had kept him relatively calm was Saphira's presence and her constant reassurances that Murtagh would be fine once the silver dragon was found; she had that much faith in her Rider.
The faith was a bit daunting. Eragon worried about disappointing his dragon, not living up to her belief in him, but that worry paled in comparison to worry about what he'd do if he couldn't find the silver dragon in time, or just simply couldn't find the mysterious creature.
At last, he was ready. The rest of the Varden was asleep and dawn only a few hours away.
It was time.
He circled around the edge of camp again, not wanting to walk through the tents and sleeping bodies in case he woke someone. He had just made it back to the medical tent with one hand on the flap when the sound of hesitant footsteps on the grass gave him pause.
Eragon turned towards the sound, dropping the hospital door. It feel noiselessly back to its normal position as he stared at the man who had approached him.
"Roran." he said, voice quiet in an attempt to prevent anyone from waking. "What are you doing here?"
Eragon figured that some of the people from New Carvahall would have been injured, but he hadn't seen anyone he recognized from that group among the men in the first hospital. Roran had no reason to be here, unless...
The farmer turned town leader looked uncomfortable, hands clasped in front of his body and looking down at the ground. Roran's right arm was bandaged from wrist to upper arm, left shoulder thickly bandaged and more bandages circling his neck. His lower lip was split and a few bruises were visible on his skin.
Eragon's suspicions for his cousin's presence were confirmed when Roran spoke.
"Can we talk?" he asked, voice subdued.
Eragon hesitated, unsure of how to answer. Roran had likely been the indirect cause of the attack on the blue Rider a few weeks ago, but Roran was still like a brother to him. Eragon's feelings were mixed. Roran hadn't accepted him as he had been, confused and torn, and was even less likely to accept him now that Eragon was prepared to be himself without trying to hide how he felt.
Roran, taking Eragon's silence as agreement instead of indecision, continued.
"I've been thinking a lot lately... ever since..." Roran trailed off. Eragon's mind briefly cast back to the day he had been attacked, seeing Roran's surprised expression for a split second through the crowd. He stayed quiet, letting Roran continue.
"I heard what happened to... him." The farmer's voice was carefully controlled, but some anger still leaked through on the last word.
"You mean Murtagh." Eragon said neutrally, but his voice was firm. Roran nodded quickly, more in acknowledgement that Eragon was speaking than acknowledging what the Rider was saying.
"Right, right. Maybe I was a little... quick to say that you were no longer family."
Eragon was sure his ears were fooling him. He felt rooted to the spot, eyes wide and jaw slack.
"I was just shocked, you understand." Roran said defensively. "I was looking for you and found you in the arms of a man. Kissing no less!"
The farmer was glaring - apparently the mere memory was still enough to make him angry.
The Rider could feel the first stirring of anger simmer inside of him and he opened his mouth to reply.
Roran sighed, running a hand through his hair. Eragon bit his tongue, stopping his angry retort.
"I didn't come here to get angry." Roran said. It wasn't an apology, but Eragon decided it would do.
"Just... maybe I was a bit hasty. We can pretend it never happened." His cousin finally looked up, a strained smile on his face and tone that of a man believing himself to be perfectly reasonable. "Once Galbatorix is dead you can come to New Carvahall. Some Surdian people have moved into town - there are at least ten women about your age I could introduce you to."
Eragon shook his head. It had been too good to be true. Of course Roran wouldn't have had a sudden change of heart regarding a person who was 'different'.
"I know you probably don't want to rely on me to find you a wife, but there are plenty of nice girls in New Carvahall. I'm sure you'll find som-"
"I already have someone." Eragon replied, hand unconsciously gripping the edge of the black cloak he wore. Roran's eyes caught the movement, then darted to the medical tent before moving back to Eragon.
"That cloak... its his, isn't it?" The farmer's voice was carefully patient, as if a parent dealing with a small child. "He's as good as dead, Eragon."
Roran's voice tried and utterly failed to be comforting and the words were most certainly not.
"You should mov-"
"He's not dead yet." Eragon bit out, anger surging. He took a step forward without realizing it, glaring as fiercely as he could at his cousin. "He's still alive, so don't even suggest what you were about to say. I won't."
Roran's face twisted in anger, patience gone.
"I'm trying to give you a chance." he hissed. "He's as good as dead. Just forget about him and settle down with a girl in New Carvahall. Just stop it with that... experiment, curiosity, whatever it was, and we'll be a family again."
Again, Roran's tone suggested that his demands were reasonable, even lenient.
A familiar pang of guilt shot through Eragon as he recalled his desperate explanation to Roran when the man had walked in on the two Riders as they kissed.
'"It was an experiment. I was making sure I wasn't strange."'
"It was an experiment, right?"
Eragon hesitated. He looked at Roran's face, so impatient yet sure of the answer. As the minutes passed in silence, Roran's expression lost its assurance.
"Eragon?"
"It was supposed to be an experiment," Eragon began. "- but I was only fooling myself. He means more to me than that."
"You can't actually believe that." Roran spluttered. "Two men can't love each other! It's not possible."
"Says who?" Eragon demanded. "Who determines what I can and cannot feel? Who cares if we're both men? I don't."
He paused, taking a deep breath for courage.
"Not anymore."
The farmer seemed dumbstruck by the Rider's outburst, but quickly composed himself.
"Last chance." he warned.
Eragon turned away.
"It was good to see you tonight." he said simply. "Goodbye."
After a moment of tense silence, soft footsteps leaving him behind signaled Roran's only response.
With a sigh and a sudden feeling of loneliness, Eragon moved into the tent. He had perhaps just alienated his cousin, the boy he had known since childhood. That bridge was burned and would likely never be rebuilt. Even if it never was, Eragon thought as he moved towards Murtagh's bed, it this worked and the red Rider was restored to health, he wouldn't regret it.
In only a few short steps, he was by Murtagh's bed. Knowing that he had to get moving if he wanted to be long gone by sunrise, the blue Rider quickly knelt and picked up his unconscious brother. He slid one arm under Murtagh's knees and the other behind the red Rider's shoulder blades, careful not to rip his own stitches out.
He stood carefully, trying not to jar the other Rider too badly and being careful not to drop the blanket someone had draped over Murtagh earlier. The red Rider's head lolled back, arm hanging limply.
Once he had a firm grip, Eragon carefully reached into a pocket inside his cloak, shifting his brother's weight slowly so he wouldn't lose his grip, and withdrew the letter he had written earlier.
He let it fall over where Murtagh had been laying. It fluttered to the ground with a very final air.
Eragon adjusted his grip again, making absolutely sure he had a secure hold as he turned away.
The blue Rider walked out of the hospital, red Rider in his arms as he walked to where he had left the dragons. No one in the Varden was awake to see two large, dark shapes take flight in the predawn sky
TBC…
A/N: So, I hope you all enjoyed! Questions, comments complaints? Drop me a line via review, email, or PM!
I'll try to get the next one out quicker. We are approaching the end- we're well over halfway through! Less than ten chapters to go, I think.
Review Replies!
Pheonix : Ack, not sharp pointy objects! (hides) I'm glad you thought so highly of the battle scene - I did my best! I tried to make it unpredictable. Some people said they had figured out what was going on, but most people seemed surprised. As for killing Murtagh... (omitted to avoid spoilers) XD I hope this chapter lived up to expectations!
eryl : I know I took a while, but in my defense I did not take ten years to update! (Only two months...) I hope you enjoyed this chapter and that it lived up to your expectations!
Black Sheep : I'm glad In Dreams was good enough for you to want to read so much of it at once! (Its size must be pretty daunting for someone just starting to read it...) I hope you enjoyed this chapter!
Immadance : It wasn't a repeat review, never fear! I'm honored that In Dreams is (or was...) your favorite fic on . As for the angst, it never ends! Kidding, but I like my angst. I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as the previous one!
Anonymous : Glad you liked! I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as the last one!
hylian-dragoness : I had a great time in Egypt, thanks for asking! I'm so happy you like In Dreams so much! I try my best! I hope you liked this chapter!
MyOwnXTigerEyes : I'm glad you liked the story so much to read it in a single night! Wow! That takes dedication! I hope I 'kicked ass' with this chapter and I hope I continue to do so in the chapters following!
etelcontar : I'm so glad you like the story so much! I hope the story continues to live up to your expectations! Did you like this chapter too?