Luce's Dreams
Disclaimer: I do not own Eragon. I forgot to put this in the last chapter, but the second part of "curiosity killed the cat" came from Tamora Pierce. So does the chest comment.
Luce lay in the healer's bed panting. Her hair was soaked with sweat. She trashed around. Dreams and memories whirled through her head. She couldn't think straight. All she was aware was a small green dragon lying on her. It gave her comfort.
"Why does my mother not visit me anymore?" a three year-old Luce asked a twenty year-old Deandra.
"I will tell you when the time is right," Deandra whispered, smoothing back Luce's hair, which had been blond, not tawny then. Luce noticed that she had tears in her eyes.
"The time is right now, Deandra. Tell me what happened," Luce said, her black eyes bright. Deandra looked frightened by her gaze.
"Your mother…she…she was found to be a member of the Varden," Deandra explained. Luce knew about the Varden they were a rebel group who had been causing trouble for her father.
Deandra continued, "This made her a traitor. She died the way traitors do."
"How do traitors die?" Luce asked.
"They are taken to the top of Utgard Mountain and executed," Deandra explained. Executed. It was a word Luce barely understood. It meant killing, but it meant that someone had commanded because the person being "executed" had done something wrong.
"Why would somebody from the Varden marry my father?" Luce asked.
"She had planned to produce an heir for Galbatorix. The heir would be raised to be loyal to the Varden. When the heir was old enough, the Varden would overthrow Galbatorix and place his son on the throne," Deandra explained.
"What about all the Teirm lords? Will they be traitors?" Luce asked. She knew that her mother had come from some Oceanside city called Teirm. She had been the third cousin of Lord Rishart. Then Siloa came to court, and Galbatorix married her in secret. Luce used to think that he fell in love with her, but how could he kill her if he loved her?
"I suspect Rishart will be clever enough to prove himself blameless," Deandra soothed.
"Why do the Varden hate my father?" Luce asked. Deandra was answering questions and Luce had wondered this since she started to think. Deandra told her a terrible story of her father, a man called Morzan, and a group of people called the Forsworn. Morzan had apparently been part of this group. They had gone after the dragon riders. Their leader, an elf named Vrael, had been killed on Utgard Mountain. This was apparently why traitors were executed on its top. Galbatorix had wanted to commemorate the battle and death that won him his crown.
"I hate him," Luce muttered with a vehemence that sounded profane coming from a three year-old mouth. Deandra looked frightened.
"Leave me," Luce continued, drawing herself up to her full height which had not been so great then. It had occurred to her later that Deandra would have thought this funny if she had not been so scared.
Luce waited until Deandra had left to start crying. She sobbed as hard as she could. After that time, Luce could count the times she'd cried on one hand. It was as though nothing could truly compare to that.
Murtagh stared down at Luce. Was she crying? Ardis stared at her with the same puzzled expression on her face. Murtagh asked Deandra as much, and she frowned.
"I think she is," Deandra said. "She hasn't cried like that since I told her that her mother had died."
This was a few weeks after the last memory. Luce walked through the halls of the palace. She was going to go down to the library to try to teach herself how to read. As she rounded a corner, she saw a boy about her age leaning against a wall and crying as hard as she had a few weeks ago.
"Why are you crying?" she asked. Deandra had always said that she was too curious for her own good.
"It's really none of your business," the boy said, staring at her as though he hadn't expected anyone to find him. "My momma died." He said abruptly as though he'd wanted to tell someone that so they would care.
"My momma died too," she said.
"How?" the boy asked.
"My father had her sent up Utgard Mountain, and someone executed her," Luce explained.
"Oh," the boy said, "I've been up Utgard Mountain."
"No you haven't. You're only three," Luce replied scornfully.
"And how old are you? Two?" the boy asked just as scornfully.
"I'm three," Luce told him, offended.
"You look two," the boy said.
"I'm three," Luce responded.
"You've said that already," the boy told her.
"You still won't believe me," Luce moaned.
"Listen," the boy said, "I don't have time for two year-olds. I'm going."
Luce was mad. She tackled boy as he tried to walk away. The wrestled there for a few minutes when the boy did a complex roll and pinned Luce to the ground. As he did this, his face suddenly contorted with a terrible agony. He fell to the ground and started convulsing. Luce started screaming.
Two people came running around the corner: Deandra and a boy of about fourteen or fifteen who had the same strawberry-blond hair and pert nose as Deandra. He was, however, built bigger than her petite nurse. This must be the brother Deandra always talked about. Tornac was what Luce remembered Deandra saying his name was.
"Gods!" Tornac yelled, "Murtagh!" He stared at the boy looking horrified. He and Deandra pinned Murtagh down, and Tornac stuffed a piece of cloth that he had torn from his tunic into the boy's mouth.
"Luce," Deandra said, "what happened/"
"He said I was two, and I tackled him, and he won the fight, but when he tried to pin me down he went all funny," Luce cried frantically. What if she had killed this boy? Was she like her father? No. She was like her mother. Deandra had told her that. She knew in her heart that that was why Galbatorix could hardly bare to look or think of her.
Murtagh stopped convulsing. He opened his eyes slightly. He looked at Luce and said, "I guess you are three." Deandra dragged her away before she could say anything.
Ardis looked down at her sister. Murtagh had gone to see her father. Luce had been like this for three days now. She and Murtagh had been with Luce on and off for the past few days. Deandra was always there.
Luce was smiling now. Crying, and then smiling? Luce was alright? No. She wasn't. Ardis knew that if she hadn't been in the throne room, Luce wouldn't have sworn. If she hadn't sent the dream to Eragon, Luce would've had more strength to fight. It would be her fault if Luce died.
"What's wrong?" Deandra asked.
Ardis put a hand up to her face and realized it was wet with tears.
"It's my entire fault," Ardis whispered.
"Ardis," Deandra sighed, "If Galbatorix hadn't had you to make Luce swear, he would've killed Luce. That was a damn fool thing of her to do, it was. It didn't do her any good either. She should've known better." The maid continued to mop Luce's face with a cool towel.
Ardis knew Deandra was just trying to comfort her. She'd pretend it had worked for the woman's sake.
"Who is Galbatorix marrying?" Luce asked Deandra. She was four now, and she hadn't referred to Galbatorix as father since Deandra told her what had happened to her mother.
"A young lady named Morgana Tabor. It's to be kept secret from the rest of the court. Only his advisors and certain servants are to know. Remember that," Deandra told her.
"Why aren't I coming to the wedding?" Luce asked. She hated to be left out of anything.
"Luce, you already know the answer. Why are you making me tell you?" Deandra asked.
Luce did already know the answer. Her father wanted to pretend Siloa had never been. Luce was the only thing that stood in the way of this, so he kept her out of his sight. He had gone as far as to declare that, because Siloa had entered the marriage with treason in mind, it had never been a marriage. Luce was disinherited, and this Morgana's children would be his heirs. Provided that he ever died, of course. This didn't seem very likely.
"Who is Morgana Tabor?" Luce asked.
Deandra screwed up her face to think and replied, "She is Marcus Tabor's eldest and only daughter. That may change when her stepmother has this next child. I've seen them. The entire family came. The stepmother looks to frail too be having children if you ask me. She's already had a son, and he looks like he could be knocked over by the slightest gust. His name's Mort, I think. He's only six. Marcus Tabor has decent looks, is middle-aged, and seems rather foolish. His wife does too. Morgana is very pretty and very energetic. If you ask me, she doesn't seem too bright. Still, it's what the king wants. Her full brothers came too. Marcus the Younger is older than she is and he seems worse than the father. Claudius, her other full brother, is younger than Morgana, and I personally think he seems brighter than the whole lot of them put together. I feel sorry for Dras Leona with them ruling it."
Luce listened carefully. Morgana didn't seem to be a promising stepmother. She would have to ask Murtagh of his opinion of her. They had become, ironically enough, after the incident with the seizure.
Murtagh stood in the throne room. The king stared at him.
"Is the girl awake yet?" Galbatorix demanded.
"She wasn't when I last saw her," Murtagh told him.
"When she wakes up, you are to train her. I don't think she needs too much. She has rudimentary magic training, and she's a fair enough with a sword," Galbatorix told him.
Murtagh nodded. He should've known that Galbatorix wouldn't want to train Luce.
"I heard Galbatorix found out about, you know," a maid whispered, pausing for dramatic effect, "her lover."
Luce listened at the door, interested. She had a good idea of whom the maids who waited on Morgana where discussing while they mended the nobles' clothes.
"It's not as if we knew," another maid said.
"Of course not, Selma," the first maid replied.
"I heard," another maid whispered, "that she's gonna be burned." Luce heard the speaker shudder.
"Well, isn't that the punishment for adultery in queens?" Selma responded coolly.
"Yes, but isn't it violent?" the first maid to speak asked.
"No, Delia, it's said to be the most pleasant way to die," Selma said sarcastically.
"I suspect the lover'll die the same way," a maid who hadn't spoken yet put in.
"Of course he will," Selma said. "Now let's stop discussing what could be called treason and get back to work."
Ardis sat there, watching her sister. It had been three days since the dragon egg had hatched for her. Luce's sleep had become more peaceful. She had stopped calling out for people by now. Deandra said this was a good sign.
Luce stared down at the woman in chains. Her chestnut hair fell around her exquisite face. The face and small, compact figure resembled Ardis, but that wasn't who this was. It was Morgana.
"I heard you wanted to see me," Luce said.
"I wanted to ask you for forgiveness," Morgana whispered.
"Why should I give you that? You shunned me. You got angry every time I went to see my sister. She didn't have a problem with me. You just didn't want her around a child whose father had declared it a bastard," Luce replied, anger creeping into her voice. She was ten, and her hair was now as tawny as it would be ten years later.
"I-I am sorry. I was raised to believe I was better. You know the Tabors were members of the house of King Angernost," Morgana whispered.
"They were only allowed to live because they turned on those closer to the throne than they," Luce retorted.
"I know," Morgana whispered desperately. "I shouldn't have been so proud. Please, Luce, after I am gone, please take care of Ardis. She'll need you. Please," Morgana looked desperate.
"I forgive you," Luce replied. It was hard not to feel pity for someone facing the flames. She placed the bottle of hemlock she and Deandra had brewed to let Morgana escape the flames on the floor. Morgana looked at the bottle. She understood what it was.
"You are too hard to be only ten, Luce," Morgana whispered. "Remember that."
"I will," Luce replied. As Luce left the dungeons, Morgana drank the poison.
"Ardis, dear," Deandra said, "why don't you go to the library with Murtagh? You've been here so long. I'll send Luce to you when she wakes. Ardis obeyed.
She trudged through the snow. Next to her was a middle-aged man of average height. He had closely cropped brown hair that was streaked with gray. He carried an axe. Luce was aware that they were climbing a mountain.
Her hair whipped about her face. Luce stared into a puddle of melting snow. Something was wrong with her face. The features were still fox-like, but they weren't quite hers. Her hair was the same as ever: wild and tawny, and she still looked twenty. Thoughts that weren't hers whipped through her head. Her eyes were completely wrong. They were ice blue, not black. Luce then understood. She wasn't Luce in this dream; she was Siloa.
"Hurry up, milady," the man replied. He was her executioner. His voice was gruff but oddly sympathetic.
Luce/Siloa had learned a little about him. He was a widower with two daughters. She knew that most men were entranced by something about her. This one didn't seem immune. Maybe she could make him feel sorry enough for her to just leave her when they got to the top.
"How much farther to the top?" she asked over the wind.
"Not much," he said in the same voice.
She felt so much despair. She decided to try her idea here and now. Maybe it would work.
Luce's eyes flickered open. Why had she dreamed about her mother's journey to death? It didn't make sense. She only knew that Siloa's plan to make the guard pity her had failed, most likely out of fear of Galbatorix. She almost cried thinking of it.
She looked at the green dragon. It was sitting on her chest.
You know, she told it, I don't allow men of my on species to touch me there. I really don't feel like starting with you.
The dragon looked confused. Luce awake? It asked confusedly.
Yes, she replied.
What Luce mean about chest thing? The dragon asked.
It's customary among human mating rituals, Luce said, wondering if the dragon would understand.
Oh, it nodded as though it understood, what about, what man's name, Murtagh?
What? She asked.
You called out in your sleep. Sometimes for healer lady, more times for nice sister person, and mostly for man Murtagh, the dragon explained.
Did you talk to any of them? Luce asked, hoping he hadn't.
The dragon looked proud, No, I didn't want to talk to anyone except you.
You need a name, she remarked.
Name good. Luce, the dragon said.
That's my name. And it's female. You need a different one, Luce thought for a moment. How about…Eridor? He succeeded Vanilor. They were great dragons.
Don't want someone else's name, the dragon replied. Want own name.
Luce smiled ruefully. I knew you were my kind of dragon, she told it.
The dragon smiled a big, toothy grin.
Luce thought about names for a long while before she smiled and said, How about Iormungr?
The dragon smiled the same grin and nodded. Luce sat up. Deandra looked over.
"Oh, you're awake," the healer maid said. "Eat this." Deandra handed her a cup.
Luce took a sip and almost spit it out. "It tastes like horse piss," she remarked dryly.
"It'll help," Deandra replied, "and how do you know what horse piss tastes like?"
Luce not know, Iormungr said to both women.
"So you do talk!" Deandra exclaimed. "He wouldn't talk to any of us, even Murtagh while you were asleep."
"He told me," Luce replied.
Iormungr told Deandra, I talk. I hear people talk, and I learn talk.
Deandra laughed and said, "Luce, Murtagh and Ardis have been worried about you. Even Thorn was a little worried. I promised Ardis I'd send you to them as soon as you woke up. They're in the library."
For some reason, the thought of her beautiful younger sister with Murtagh made Luce's stomach twist with jealousy. She ignored it and changed.
Ardis sat down next to Murtagh. Thorn was sitting by them. The library had been big enough to fit him; though, Ardis doubted Shruikan would have been able to come in. The very thought of her father's evil, twisted, black dragon made her tremble.
"Is Luce awake yet?" he asked, sounding concerned.
"She wasn't when I left," Ardis told him. "Deandra promised to send her down as soon as she was awake."
Murtagh looked somewhat relieved. It occurred to Ardis that Murtagh might care more about Luce than he let on. She wondered if he blamed her for what happened to Luce.
"Murtagh," she blurted out, "do you think it's my fault Luce got hurt?"
He looked at her and said, "No. I'm sure Luce doesn't either. If you want to blame anyone, blame me. If I had brought Eragon and Saphira back, Galbatorix wouldn't have made Luce touch the dragon egg. It's my fault." Murtagh sank back in his chair, realizing that this was true.
Ardis said, "I don't blame you. Luce doesn't either. I'm sure of that. I really think it's my fault."
"If you want to blame someone," Luce spoke out as she leaned against the library doorway with Iormungr wrapped around her shoulders, "blame Galbatorix for hurting me, or me for using that thrice-damned spell."
Or, Thorn cut in, stop trying to blame somebody and accept things for what they are.
"He has a point," Luce remarked.
Red dragon have point, Iormungr projected for everyone.
My name is Thorn, hatchling, Thorn told him. Who are you?
Luce name me Iormungr, the emerald dragon replied proudly. He was not in the least bit scared of Thorn, who must have at least five times his size.
"Well met, Iormungr," Murtagh said.
Murtagh man, Iormungr greeted, Nice sister person.
Her name is Ardis, Luce told her dragon while silently praying to every god she'd ever heard of that Iormungr would not repeat what he had said about her calling out for Murtagh more than anyone else. Her dragon msust have heard her for he said nothing. How did you like this chapter? The dreams actually had a point, believe it or not. Thank you to my reviewers. I'm glad you like my story. 3,185 words. That's not as much as last chapter, but I think it's decent.