Galbatorix was—

Harry wasn't quite sure what he was, actually. He was strong, and stubborn, and determined. He had great plans, lofty ideals. He talked about ending war, so that society would progress and his people would live better lives. He had plans for Harry too, sending him to tutors until he felt his brain would melt.

Galbatorix would join him for dinner after long days mired in administration and politics to hiss and spit about the corrupt order of Dragon Riders. How they had torn the country apart, and the scars were still raw decades after.

He spoke of having been chosen as a young boy with much potential, torn from his family and inducted into the Order, trained and brainwashed, and finally granted his dragon.

He spoke of how the dragon had given him magic.

And when Galbatorix spoke of magic, Harry knew there was nothing he loved more. It was different than the magic on Earth, Alagaesia's had more rules and even more possibilities within them. It had the greatest potential for good—

—and for evil. So much evil, complacency, corruption, dark magic, hoarding of knowledge, back-stabbing.

There were days they would sit together, talking about Galbatorix' life, and Harry's life, and all the things Galbatorix wanted to do to make life better for his people.

Other days, Galbatorix would hole himself up in his library for a Hermione-like studying frenzy.

He'd emerge haggard, hair messy, excitement glinting in his eyes. Those were the best times, because they'd go afterwards on horseback to the surrounding city, boroughs, river, and countryside.

Harry loved the way Galbatorix's attention would feel. When he listened, Harry felt like the most important person in Alagaesia. At the same time, while the countryside was beautiful, the cities stunk of shit and despair.

So many people, sunken eyes and distended bellies, arms outstretched for alms.

"Why don't you do something?" Harry implored after their latest trip to one of the poorer parts of the city. "You're their King."

"And what will it accomplish, if I feed them today? That doesn't solve anything," Galbatorix said.

This was the most frequent topic of the King's rants: magic, the great rift it had created between those with, and those without. Even now the people were still looking to magic to solve their problems, and the King couldn't help them all, forever.

They had to learn to help themselves.

"We have an expression like that back home." Harry conceded, speaking slowly as he translated it into the so-called common tongue. "Give a man a fish and he eats for a day, teach him to fish and he'll never go hungry again."

The King gave him a peculiar look then. "Back home? Is this not your home, Harry?"

Something deep inside Harry lurched. There was grief over the world he'd lost, to which he'd never be able to return. And even more grief, that he'd stood there and let himself die for them. Snape had been right.

Harry had been raised like a lamb for slaughter. It would be lying to say that didn't hurt.

"Yeah, I guess this is home now," was all Harry said.

… xoxox …

"Where are they going?" Harry asked as they watched the troops march out the city gates. The cheering crowd reminded him of the people who'd let him walk to his death.

"North, to Gil'ead. There have been uprisings of Urgals near the Spine." Galbatorix sneered the last words.

Harry knew the King hated Urgals. He grabbed the first new topic he could find. "My tutor was telling me that all young men have to enlist in the army once they turn eighteen."

Galbatorix nodded. "Of course. It is a way to teach them discipline, test for magical ability, and if they have the mind for writing, they learn letters and sums. Many stay, after those two years are up. I pay them well."

It was hard to imagine needing to have an aptitude for something as standard as the three Rs taught to every eight-year-old back h—in Britain. "Why don't you have schools for children? Almost every child in the world I came from could read and write."

"Even the girls?" There was more than a faint incredulity there, tinged with curiosity. "Why?"

Harry shrugged. It had always seemed the most logical thing, he'd never thought twice about it. "It's useful for letting people know stuff, isn't it? Education is the greatest equaliser." The words had been plastered on the wall of his primary school's dining hall. Even now he could still see the cheerful blue staring back at him. "Besides, once we started school my Aunt had time to get a job again." He gave another helpless shrug. "I dunno, your Majesty. It's just how things were done."

"Hmm. You must draw me some diagrams of this school later. It sounds interesting."

Harry had to leave soon after for another bruising swordsmanship lesson, but a warm feeling stayed with him all day. It always amazed him the way Galbatorix, literally the most important man in the empire, would take the time to explain things and listen to Harry's ideas.

It filled Harry with a small, simmering joy.

It was a good feeling, to be wanted.

... xoxox ...

The rest of this story is up on ao3 already. I'm posting on average 2000 words a day for all of December 2021, bookmark me or stop by for some new stories.