Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun / The frumious Bandersnatch!"
Harry was ashamed to admit he'd barely noticed his King's absence, as preoccupied as he'd been with his bonded hatchling.
"Have you decided on a name yet?" was the first thing Galbatorix asked when he returned.
"Is it true, what they're saying?" Harry asked back, "There's another Rider out there, with a blue dragon?"
The King scowled and Harry instinctively flinched back. "Sorry," Harry said, but the apology was already being waved away.
Galbatorix knelt down and began petting the mess of green dragon limbs snoozing by Harry's chair. "Yes," he said, sighing gustily. "Yes, the Varden stole an egg fifteen years ago. The Elven princess had been ferrying it between the Varden's hideout and Du Weldengarden since then. My servants captured her just as she teleported the egg into the Spine, where the dragon's Rider happened to be."
"Maybe it was fate." It certainly sounded like some kind of predestined meddling.
"Perhaps it was, Harry. I hope not, for I am not enthused by the meddling of fate and destiny."
Harry nodded, he could empathise with that. "So now there are three of us dragon riders?"
"I do not know," Galbatorix admitted. Under his scratching hand, the green dragon hummed. "If I manage to find the new rider before the Varden does, there is hope for him. But once they start indoctrinating him? I can only guess how they will weaponise the boy and the hatchling for their cause. Facing one of our own in battle would be a great tragedy."
The dragon opened its eyes then, butting Galbatorix' hand for more scratches. Instead it overextended and lost its balance, toppling over.
"Is there something wrong with my bonded?" Harry hedged them, after confirming that the dragon was unhurt. "It's just, I thought it'd be more…majestic."
His King looked up sharply. "I can understand not naming her, but a dragon isn't an it, Harry. And no, it's perfectly normal that they grow at different rates. The muscle will fill in later, I am certain."
Harry sighed in relief. His dragon-partner snorted, sending up tendrils of smoke. "Are you a boy dragon or a girl dragon, then?"
Does it matter? it projected into both their minds.
Apparently, Harry's dragon-partner was a bit…special. "See?" he said to his King, "And it doesn't like any of the names I've suggested, either. She or he just tumbles off the furniture and keeps growing like a weed. I figured when it's good and ready, it'll let me know itself."
Tumble-Weed, the dragon said then, fully extending its neck. You may refer to me thusly.
Harry wasn't sure where it had learnt words like 'thusly', either. "Right. Tumbleweed it is." He tried to look annoyed, but really his heart was just swelling with joy. A grin split his face in two as Harry lunged to hug Tumbleweed. "You chose perfectly."
Galbatorix snorted. "The people will be clamouring your names. All hail Harry and Tumbleweed, heirs to the Brodding empire!" he mock-chanted, then left.
Harry and Tumbleweed exchanged bewildered looks—as much as a dragon could look bewildered. Did the King just name us his heirs? Harry hedged.
He felt his heart was about to burst from his chest with a thousand unnamed emotions.
… xoxox …
It was a month after Tumbleweed's hatching that Galbatorix presented them to the people. Select politicians and city mayors were invited to a small gathering for lunch.
King Galbatorix had made it sound so simple, harmless.
He'd failed to mention the select number totalled a hundred strong. The meeting hall was brimming with noise and chaos. Somehow in the past years of barely any company, Harry had forgotten what it was like to have so many people around. He dithered outside the hall, Tumbleweed perched on his shoulder
"I welcome you all to this gathering. It is my great pleasure to host you in my home, this central stronghold of the Brodring empire.
"This past month has brought us worrisome tidings, but I have good news for you also. With word of a new dragon hatching being confirmed, the Ra'zac have now flown with greatest haste to the Spine to bring the latest Rider under mine and Shruikan's extended wing."
There was hearty applause, but Galbatorix continued speaking over it, and they settled very quickly.
"The Varden will not find an ally in Eragon, who is a citizen of Brodring just like yourselves. We have no reason to fear the dissenters who crawl craven amongst the dwarves even as they die of old age and scurvy."
More cheering. Harry felt his pulse in his ears, reminded of all the times in the quidditch changing rooms, waiting for Lee Jordan to announce his name. Tumbleweed's claws kneaded his shoulder, comforting him with their presence.
Together, the dragon said.
"…finally bringing into the public eye proof of the birth of a new Order of Dragon Riders, I present to you my chosen heir Haraldr and his partner Xerophyte!" Galbatorix cried.
Bewildered, Harry stepped through the oaken doors. Haraldr? Xerophyte? he asked the dragon.
Tumbleweed's focus was already on the room, drinking in the sea of awed faces. The dragon beat its wings and let out a screech; Harry could feel Tumbleweed's pleasure at the way several wine-cups were dropped even as mouths hung agape.
Galbatorix clapped a strong hand on Harry's free shoulders. "Come, my boy. You will join me at the head table."
His King led the way and Harry followed, the dragon preening astride him.
…
It was an exhausting evening, the banquet filled with countless moments where Harry had to wear the perfectly-crafted mask his tutors had drilled into him.
Yes, Lady Hemsworth, the oil trade is lucrative, have you considered selling to the King's army to make use of His transportation network?
Duke Shorthold, I assure you that the dragon will bite you if you continue to harass it.
Of course, Lord Moleham, the roads northwards could always use improvement, and do you have any young labours to spare that they might join the engineers in his Majesty's army?
My King, Master Gumpsmith was just telling me about the high yield of this year's harvest, isn't that fortunate?
And so on, until Harry's brain was coming out his ears. Though he did remember to start responding to Haraldr by the end of the night. It seemed that, no matter what life he might live, he'd never get to be 'just Harry'.
But sitting on his bed watching the sun tint the city smog red, listening to the morning bells, Harry understood that this was his world now, his dragon had claimed him and bound him in heart and soul. Even now, half-asleep, his silver-marked hand stroked Tumbleweed's scales.
The dragon's dreams flitted through him, fire and smoke and love.
He didn't understand what he'd done to deserve Tumbleweed, so pure and unapologetically different, but he wouldn't trade this feeling for the world.
Alagaesia's prince, the future of the Dragon Riders. Harry and Tumbleweed—Haraldr and Xerophyte.
For the first time in a long time, he felt like he truly belonged.
… xoxox …
The sun rose and set over the city of Urubaen. Harry spent long hours sitting under Shruikan's wings, watching and listening as all the city's noise and chaos faded to mottled gray light and the bellows of dragon-breath.
Tumbleweed had grown too large to sit beside him, limbs still long and lanky, but Harry knew the dragon's comforting presence was sitting just beyond his reach.
Shruikan was once again telling stories of days long by, foregoing words most of the time as he showed scenes of young swordsmen, wizened old dwarves wielding axes, and dragons, so many dragons.
It was startling, how the eyes of a dragon saw things differently. Harry always marvelled at the way Tumbleweed's sight emphasised vibrant greens—Shruikan's world was entirely gray.
Now, with his day of lessons over, Harry had been hoping for respite, but Galbatorix had other plans.
"Shruikan, my dragon," their King greeted. "Xerophyte, you grow more magnificent by the day. Come out from under there and walk with me, my child. We have much to discuss."
Harry gave the dragons each a farewell pat and made his way dutifully over, brushing off his robes as he went. "My King," he greeted, "I didn't know you'd returned already."
Laughing, Galbatorix placed a hand on Harry's shoulder. "All the pirates in the seas could not keep me away from home for long, son. Follow me, there has been much progress in your latest endeavour."
Uncertain as to what exactly he'd been endeavouring, Harry nonetheless fell into step beside his mentor. "Tumbleweed is still growing steadily. Xerophyte, I looked it up in the library, it means a desert-plant. Though it doesn't like the symbolism, it does like the sound."
"A dragon is not an it, Haraldr, how many times must I tell you—"
"My dragon isn't a he or a she either, my King. I cannot force language upon it that it does not want, I cannot force Tumbleweed to do anything really. Stubborn beast, that. I don't know where it gets that from."
Again Galbatorix laughed, but Harry's mind was captured by Tumbleweed's voice in his head.
"You can use xe if your King objects so much to it," the dragon hummed.
"Xe," Galbatorix echoed, saying it slowly, a smile still on his lips. "Well, I did introduce you as Haraldr and Xerophyte."
Relief trickled all the way down to Harry's toes, warming him. "Thank you." Tumbleweed's content resonated alongside his own, magnifying their combined feelings a hundredfold. Harry couldn't help but grin. "Xe," he thought towards xer. "I like it."
A portier opened a door and bowed King and heir through to an outside courtyard. Soon Galbatorix and Harry were on horseback, moving towards the river where the mills churned the foul waters.
The building they stopped before was squat, made of sandstone blocks with dainty windows that clashed with the surrounding streets turned black and blue with decades' worth of dyes.
Harry looked at it, unsure what he was seeing. "It's very nice and clean," he hedged carefully. "Is it for your new military?"
Then a bell sounded and, to his utter shock, a stream of children burst from the wide wooden doors, yelling at the top of their lungs and showing exactly no regard for the fact that the King was dismounting his horse within the fenced-in courtyard.
Bewildered and amazed, Harry let Galbatorix show him the slate boards covered in chalk runes.
"They are learning their letters twice as fast as the soldiers ever can," a white-haired man announced from his place behind the frontmost desk. "My King, my prince, allow me to lead you to the kitchens that you might eat and drink."
"No need, Helbert," Galbatorix dismissed. "I know the way."
The kitchens were bright and the mess hall had ' Education is the greatest Equaliser ' in blue runes on the far wall.
The feelings in Harry's chest roiled between nostalgia and awe. "You built all of this, based on my idea?"
"Why else would I ask you to draw up floor plans, my boy?" Galbatorix laughed and brought them back outside to where their horses were waiting, a few children watching from behind a fence. "The mothers can go to work in the mills, the children are learning the right lessons early while getting a good meal every day. In only ten years, these will be the empire's best soldiers. It is a wonder I had not thought to do this a decade ago!"
"What about the girls?" Harry wondered aloud. He couldn't properly tell, what with most of them covered in dirt and dye, but he'd thought he'd seen a few skirt-clad children.
"I will find a use for them, no, we will find a use. This Empire, it is yours also. You and I will have it prospering."
… xoxox …
"I—I don't know," Harry found himself saying to Galbatorix's head engineer. "The steam comes out the top, and the train just goes."
The frustration radiating off the half-man-half-elf was a tangible thing. Innerly, Harry marvelled at how the Seander could keep such a neutral expression, but mostly Harry just felt frustrated, too.
"You mustn't fiddle with an arrow-wound, youngling," Tumbleweed's voice chimed in his head.
Somehow, adding cryptic dragon-symbolism wasn't the answer to improving Harry's mood. "Thanks," he sent back.
"Forget the train for now, Haraldr, and tell me how you make the rails." Seander's pointed ears twitched. "You said they were made of steel, but steel would warp in the sun and break in the cold. Steel cannot be stretched that far. Your ideas are ludicrous."
"I thought you were the engineer between the two of us," Harry huffed, and turned away. He met with the half-man every week, ostensibly for the purpose of bringing Earth's technological innovations to Alagaesia. Instead, it had turned into a weekly session of Harry being belittled as he was reminded over again that he'd left formal schooling at age ten, and he'd been more worried about Dudley's gang than learning anyway.
"Peace," Tumbleweed hummed, sticking xer head through an open window. "Shall we go flying?"
The sight of his dragon-partner never failed to fill Harry with joy, heart beating a little faster as the light bounced green onto the stones around him.
"I'll meet you in the main courtyard in five," he promised, hurrying for his rooms at his fastest walk.
Haraldr of the Broedring Empire does not run in the halls like a peasant child, Galbatorix had said exactly twice before Harry had understood.
He changed quickly into what his King called 'adequate dragon-riding gear'.
My heir will not be seen dressed in unsuitable clothing, whether it is for sparring lessons, riding, or in the middle of the night while taking a shit.
The usual beeswax went onto his lips, and a simple spell protected his eyes from the wind.
Son, you and your dragon are a part of my Kingdom now. You must protect yourself from harm, if not for yourself then as an act of service to me.
Doing things the proper way was so tedious, but Harry had grown from the brash Gryffindor who would have simply jumped out the window onto dragonback, consequences be damned. He saddled Tumbleweed and fastened the straps before pulling his gloves on. "Ready?"
Xe spread xer wings and clambered up the defensive wall, scales gouging familiar paths into stone. "Ready or not," Tumbleweed sang into their mind, "here we come!"
… xoxox …
On a broom he'd felt rather like a knife slicing through the air, but dragon-flight was very different. The world unfolded below them, its vastness engulfing them even as it cradled them with a sense of connection. Dragons were creatures of magic, they couldn't fly without it, so the magic held them in a balance of gently push-pulling them away from and back down to the earth below.
This high up, the landscape below was made entirely of miniatures. Harry's eyes traced the familiar roads and the river that roiled away so far below them.
If he were to fall from here, he'd be able to admire the view for a few long minutes before he hit the ground.
"I would catch you," Tumbleweed said fiercely.
Harry stroked his hand over xer spine, relishing the way his stomach fell when he let go of the saddle's handles. "I would never leave you," he thought back at xer. He stretched out his arms, holding onto the dragon only with his legs. His heart raced, faster even than the wind beating against his face, faster than his thoughts could keep up with.
Fastening his hands to the saddle again was simultaneously relief, and regret.
"I wonder where Eragon is now," Harry said into the silence, his eyes straining to see the way the world's edges curled.
Tumbleweed snorted, a plume of smoke burning acrid in the wind. "Somewhere far away, I hope."
The last news had been that the boy was near Dras Leona, continuing his southbound journey. Galbatorix surmised they were heading for the Varden's hideout in the dwarven realms to the south. From what Harry had been told, the Beors were a mountain range so high that their peaks disappeared into the clouds. He very much wished to see them, spectacular as such a sight must be, but Tumbleweed did not think much of it.
"Dragons do not belong inside mountains," xe reminded him. "Dragons belong in the open sky."
Tumbleweed spent a lot of xer time thinking and talking about belonging. On days where Harry was feeling self-reflective, he understood whom xe'd gotten that from.
Slowly, xe winged a huge arc across the river, pointing them back towards Urubaen.
"I'd like to meet them, Eragon and Saphira. Maybe we can convince them to join our side. I hope he's not a bully like Dudley was. Or maybe he's like Draco, and being a Rider has gotten to his head." Harry leaned down and pressed his face against Tumbleweed's great neck, the warmth welcome against his skin. "We could use more dragons in our Kingdom."
"Dragons do not belong to Kingdoms, nor to Dwarfdoms, Elfdoms, or Vardens."
"Maybe." Harry thought of Shruikan; the great black Dragon hadn't left the throne room in so long that he didn't fit through the doors anymore.
"Shruikan is only half of a soul."
Sometimes, Harry wished his Dragon would use less cryptic symbolism and make a little more sense.