AN: Hello everyone! I have a new chapter for you here. There's quite a lot of philosophy and discussion about dovahzul words again. I just love that language and playing with different meanings. All my translations come from thuum dot org by the way, which has a great dictionary I can only recommend.

Enjoy and please review!

XxX

OPOV

Odahviing was not at all surprised when Murtagh returned with the Dovahkiin in tow. In fact, he glared at Saphira and send her a mental 'I told you so' for having dared to voice concern about the Chosen One's supposed capture.

He admitted to being a bit surprised at the prisoner, though.

The two dragons, Brom, Eragon and the elf named Arya were sitting around a small camp when they heard the noise of hooves coming closer. By now Odahviing had gotten used to the unnaturally regular pace the undead horse kept and told the rest of the party in advance not to worry. Sure enough, the Dovahkiin and Murtagh came riding in on the flaming horse shortly after, with the former having what looked and smelled like a humanoid corpse wrapped in a sheet slung over his shoulder. The two men had a bit of trouble fitting together on the horse, both not being of small build. Odahviing didn't know enough about human mating rituals to recognize that the proximity wouldn't really bother them.

The Dovahkiin threw the corpse to the feet of the other humans. Curious, Brom took a peek under the sheet and then flinched back, face white, looking as if he'd been traumatized. (Considering he'd peeked under the sheet from the rear end, that was probably true.)

"What exactly is the meaning of that?" he wanted to know.

"A gift, all gift-wrapped, for the lady", the dragonborn offered with a nod towards the elf. "Sorry but I didn't have time to get a proper bow and all."

"Is that… the shade?" Eragon asked incredulously, having been updated by Arya about the whole story surrounding this legendary foe.

"That's impossible. If he were dead…" the woman started but Murtagh interrupted her.

"Oh, he's not dead. That's what Harald's message was about."

The Dovahkiin nodded importantly. "Yeah, there's a particular master-level magic spell that can paralyze people. It doesn't last very long, but in combination with a special potion and a little magical ritual, the duration can be increased significantly. I figured whatever Durza did to bind his life force to yours, he probably used the Ancient Language to do so. Which means it'll need a counter curse in the same language. Like this, Durza will be kept harmless long enough for us to take him to a proper prison he can't escape. Maybe even long enough for you to find a counter curse. Or die from old age."

Odahviing narrowed his eyes at this explanation. He knew a fair bit about magic and he knew of no ritual that could boost the duration of spells so significantly. At least, no ritual that didn't require a ridiculous amount of blood sacrifices. Then again, he was sure there were a lot of human guards in that city that the Dovahkiin could've used for such a purpose.

"I cannot possibly keep him imprisoned. A shade is much too powerful to be held like that!", Arya protested. "I am grateful that you went to such lengths to rescue me. But as Riders, it is so much more important that Eragon and you reach the Varden as soon as possible. You shouldn't have delayed for me and you cannot be delayed further by such a dangerous prisoner!"

"Oh geez, a little thank you would've been enough", the Dovahkiin returned obnoxiously. Though in this case Odahviing had to agree with him.

"Be silent, woman, and be grateful that the Dovahkiin has heaped such favor upon you! There is no point in questioning his mercy." This, Odahviing knew well, as whether the slayer would declare you friend or foe pretty much depended on his mood on any given day.

Arya bowed her head to him, surprising the dragon once again with an unusual amount of respect he was no longer used to receiving.

"I apologize. It is a great accomplishment. I merely felt unworthy of such efforts. My concern is for the greater mission only and I would've gladly sacrificed myself for it."

Odahviing snorted, satisfied. "You speak true, elf. However, this is the Dovahkiin you are facing, the god king of dragon kind. No lowly undead being could pose a serious threat to him. Our delay here enabled me to start teaching young Saphira in the arts of flight as much as it enabled the Dovahkiin to take out one of the usurper's greatest allies."

"Err, what he said", the slayer agreed. "Except I'm not his king."

"You will be", Odahviing insisted.

"Over my dead body", the human muttered, then nudged his companion. "Oi, Murtagh. Show them the treasure, will you?"

Murtagh reached into his enchanted bag and pulled out an object wrapped in leather, a bit bigger than a human head. When he uncovered it, everyone gasped.

Well, everyone but Odahviing.

Really, they were making a fuzz as if they'd never seen a dragon egg.

"Is that…?" Arya asked.

"It is indeed", the Dovahkiin proclaimed proudly. "After Murtagh left with the damsel, I thought I'd have to keep fighting till he returned, or maybe sneak away in the middle of it and hide out. But that wasn't even necessary. Durza tried to bribe me with that thing. He thought it might hatch for me." He chuckled a bit. "Ridiculous, isn't it?"

"You knew that he had brought this with him the whole time?" Arya asked with wide eyes, staring at the egg in Murtagh's hands.

"Yeah, suuuure. That's the main reason why I stayed here so long. I've got a dovah-sense you know, I knew an egg was coming closer."

Odahviing was pretty sure the elf missed the sarcasm because she fell to her knees and bowed to the Dovahkiin in reverence.

"I apologize for ever doubting your wisdom, Harald Dovahkiin. You have achieved the largest victory over Galbatorix' forces in many generations!"

The Dovahkiin looked mighty uncomfortable with her worship. Then though his face lit up with a sadistic grin.

"Actually, it was my apprentice Murtagh who defeated Durza", he said and pushed his companion forward.

"He decrypted my message, immediately understood my plan, brought all the necessary ingredients AND defeated Durza in combat so I could subdue him with the magic. That's Murtagh Morzanson by the way – and to think my dear friends here had doubts about him in the beginning, can you believe it? Best investment I've ever made, the lad."

"Harald!" Murtagh protested.

"Nope! You deserve the praise. Actually, I think you deserve a party. I think I still have some of that booze Theta gave us for taking care of her furry little problem…"

"No parties!" Odahviing protested. "You don't want to end up married to a hagraven again, do you!?"
"Oh come on, that was one time!"

"You've got to tell me that story someday", Murtagh said with a grin.

In the end, they decided to postpone the party to when they actually reached Surda. The Dovahkiin and Murtagh had done a good job depopulating Beltane of their guards but that didn't mean that more weren't to come once word about their robbery and kidnapping got out.

Brom and his entourage all wanted to leave for Surda as soon as possible. Since Saphira was the only one willing to carry anyone and nobody wanted to let the Dovahkiin sneak back into town to steal more horses, that meant they made their way on foot. Or well, the humans did, the dragons could fly ahead, obviously.

That's when the arguing started.

"I will take the egg with me while you lumber around on the ground", Odahviing declared. "Hand it over, mortal." He turned his gaze to Murtagh, who shifted uncomfortably under it.

"Are you sure about that?" Brom asked hesitantly. "How would you transport it? No offense but you don't have any… hands."

Odahviing bristled, very much offended. Obviously dragon eggs were not meant to be carried around but since they had to move already, there really was no other choice.

"Well it is the least your kind can do to craft me a leather contraption of some sort to carry it with me, no?" He could carry it in his hind claws but that would admittedly be risky. Still much preferably to any of the mortals laying their dirty paws on the egg.

"Why bother with that? It's just fine down here with us, in a leather bag", the Dovahkiin said.

"Don't be ridiculous! You can't leave it in an enchanted bag, together with whatever else you have in there! What if it gets scratched up, huh? What then?"

Murtagh paled at those words and examined the egg he was still holding, looking for any scratches.

"We can wrap it up in soft leather and linen", the elf offered. "I have transported Saphira's egg for a long time, I know how to take care of it."

Odahviing bristled. "It is a dragon egg! It should be taken care of by a dragon, not a mortal!"

"It is a dragon egg belonging to the Order though. Eggs like that have always been taken care of by mortals", Brom reminded him.

"Ugh, I knew taking it with us would be trouble", the Dovahkiin muttered.

'Uhm, I wouldn't mind carrying the egg. I can hold it in my front claws just fine, I believe, if we wrap it up properly', Saphira offered. Only Eragon and Odahviing could hear her voice but her Rider relayed her words to the others.

"I suppose that would be acceptable", Odahviing grudgingly agreed.

"It would still be too dangerous! What if we meet an enemy and Saphira has to fight?" Brom argued.

"How about we compromise?" Eragon said. "Harald or I can take the egg, while flying on our dragon. Then it'll be best protected."

"Oh, I can take it!", the Dovahkiin volunteered.

Odahviing was immediately against it. "Oh no you won't! You have no idea how to handle an egg. This is dragon business."

"I'm half dragon!", the slayer protested.

"You're a half dragon hatchling, at best! Also, I wouldn't trust you with a dead dragon, much less an unborn one." It irked him but in the end, he nodded towards the Rider. "It would be acceptable for the two of them to carry it."

The slayer looked like he wanted to protest some more but in the end, he bowed his head and gave a deep sigh. "Fiiiine." He looked to Murtagh and the egg he held with a longing Odahviing knew well.

Eragon came over to him but Murtagh didn't move.

"Err, are you sure that's the best decision? I totally wouldn't mind carrying it a bit longer", he said.

"Mortal, hand over the egg. Saphira is the best one to take care of it", Odahviing decided.

Murtagh grumbled some more but in the end, handed over the egg reluctantly. a very disgruntled dragonborn was saddled with guiding Arvak along who was carrying their prisoner.

Once that discussion was over, the group finally got moving. However, during to the mortal's small stamina, they only made it for a couple of hours before they had to make camp again. Odahviing immediately went over to Saphira to check on the egg. The dragoness had curled up around it herself, guarding it jealously and letting nobody but her Rider and the other dragon near. Odahviing sniffed at the unborn little thing, lying in a bed of linen and leather between her fore legs. His tongue flickered out, tasting the shell. There was life in it still, despite its rumored age. Satisfied, he curled up next to the dragoness, positioning his wings to provide further protection from the wind. Saphira gave a deep purr from inside her chest and her tail nudged his.


The night was quiet but the next day, the Dovahkiin was getting on everyone's nerves. As usual he hadn't been able to sleep and the slow pace he was forced to take because of the others was driving him insane. In the end Odahviing agreed to take him flying and to go ahead and hunt some prey for their next meal.

Which meant that the Dovahkiin only went on his nerves.

"So… You and Saphira, huh?" the slayer made in that obnoxious tone of his.

Odahviing gave a bone deep sigh. "What about her?"

"You two looked awfully cozy last night", the man teased him.

"I was only concerned for the egg."

"Eragon told me that you consider four-legged mute dragons crippled and that your kind would smash those eggs."

Odahviing rolled his eyes. "I said that most dragons would do this when finding an egg like that that isn't theirs, not me personally. Besides, there's no real proof that this definitely will be this hatchling's fate. We don't know who its parents are after all."

"It is very likely though", the Dovahkiin insisted.

"You will not smash this egg, slayer! Akatosh would not approve. It is precious to your companions, if nothing else!"

"Yes, yes, alright! I won't smash it. I thought about it at first but the Varden need it, I guess."

The slayer was quiet for a while. Odahviing almost thought he might be able to actually enjoy the sky for a bit, flapping his wings lazily, when he started talking again.

"When I first saw that egg… I had this weird… urge… to, like, hug it. As if I was be-spelled or something."

"Nesting urges", Odahviing commented offhandedly, nodding his head.

"Nesting urges!?" the Dovahkiin exclaimed. "What's that supposed to mean!?"

Odahviing rolled his eyes. He really did feel like a nest-mother, having to give her hatchling The Talk. "A dragoness will brood her clutch day and night until the eggs hatch. Her mate will provide her with food but she still has to leave occasionally to drink and such. In those instances, the mate will take over the warming so the clutch is never without protection. In the rare case that for whatever reason, the couple cannot take care of the clutch together, they will find a hiding place for the clutch for when it is unprotected. Finding a good hiding place is hard as the egg should not get too cold. Ideally it should be left near fire but obviously without anyone to guard it, that would be unsafe. The fire might spread or the smoke attract predators. Smoldering coals are a decent alternative though."

Odahviing caught a breeze under his wings and circled upwards. He paused, waiting for the slayer to interrupt him but he was unusually quiet. So he continued:

"A dragoness will feel the urge to mate usually only once or twice in her life. In a male, this urge is only awakened in the presence of a searching female, as they give off a certain scent. Females are also much rarer than males. Dragon couples stay together only for the duration of the brooding. Females will chose preferably the strongest dragons as mates so many males never mate at all while some few of the strongest males mate with several females. I myself have bred four."

"And you plan to make Saphira number five?" the Dovahkiin scoffed.

"As rare as females are, I do have my standards", he returned snappish. "Saphira is young and unbloodied. She doesn't even have a proper name. The nesting urge that we and you too share however, is a biological drive that has nothing to do with choosing a mate. As I explained, dragon clutches are rare and all the more precious for it. If a foreign dragon discovers an unprotected hidden clutch, they will have the urge to protect and brood it until the parents return. As hostile as we can be over territory, it is strictly forbidden to attack a nesting dragon. It is not just rude, it is taboo, it is not done. The urge only lasts until the eggs hatch though. Hatchlings are capable of taking care of themselves from that moment forward. Staying with their mother will increase their chances of survival of course but taking care of them is not considered mandatory to our kind. If a crippled dragon hatched, it would not be aided in its survival. A foreign dragon discovering one might kill it, though I believe few dragons would put much effort into doing so if it were their own offspring."

"So that's why I felt like I had to protect that egg… even though normally when I see a dragon, I just want to kill it", the slayer muttered.

"The nesting urge is strongest in the parents of course, and in foreign dragons stronger in females. It is weaker in you than in a natural male dragon I suspect, if you considered harming it." Odahviing still shuddered at the though of such an atrocity. "Of course it's also possible that Akatosh purposefully created you with a stronger nesting urge than the dovahkiin of old normally had, specifically because he wanted you to eventually find your place in his flock."

"Are you still going on about that!?", the Dovahkiin exclaimed. "I'm a man, a mortal! Not a dragon!"

Mortal… Odahviing chuckled, the deep rumble vibrating in his throat. It was almost cute how delusional the slayer was. As if Akatosh would cram so much power into such a tiny body, only to let it waste away in a mere human life time. The great red dragon considered educating the slayer about that particular notion, as he'd have to lose it eventually – but he decided differently. The Dovahkiin had not reacted well the last time he'd lifted the veil of his own lies for him and he didn't want him to mess up his mission because of another breakdown. Plus he technically didn't know, didn't have proof, that the Dovahkiin shared the agelessness of the dragons. He wasn't particularly good at telling humans apart and even if he were, he doubted he would be able to notice any signs of aging or lack thereof in just the little time they'd known each other. However it happened though, whether he'd been created ageless or would get immortality thrust upon him by Akatosh only by the time he finally accepted his role, Odahviing was sure that the Laat Dovahkiin was meant to last.

"You're at least half dragon, you said so yourself", was the only thing he said.

"I don't want to be though…", the slayer whined.

Odahviing sighed. "Pray tell, what exactly is it that is so horrible about the idea? Are you bothered by the hoard of gold you've amassed?"

"Well, no…"

"Then do you reproach yourself for your desire for power and control?" the dragon asked.

The slayer was quiet for a bit longer, before he admitted: "Not really. I know some people fear me because of it but… I don't really care about them."

"Do you sometimes think you ought to be more humble? Does it feel right for you to put away your pride and bow to the human Jarls and kings and whatnot?"

Odahviing didn't have to turn his head to know the slayer was grimacing.

"No, definitely not."

That didn't surprised him, as devoid of respect as he was to both daedra and aedra alike.

"And when you think of smashed dragon eggs, does it really bother you that your natural instinct is to protect the unborn, rather than to kill them?", he asked.

"I… no, that's not it, I just…" The Dovahkiin huffed, frustrated. "Dragons are my enemies, Odahviing, no offense. They're on the same level as draugr overlords!"

Odahviing took a sharp turn and the slayer yelped as he had to grab one of his back spines in order to not be thrown off.

"Actually, I do take offense", he said snidely, swallowing his anger. "I am not your enemy, Dovahkiin. I have made a vow of servitude to you and I have not broken said vow, despite all the insults, despite the humiliation, despite the multiple times you had me fight my own kin. I have fought for you, I have killed for you, I have taught you and I have forgiven you many, many times. I have stayed at your side faithfully and yet you still regard me as your enemy."

"Well… you're different", the slayer muttered quietly. "You're the exception."

"Yet I need not be. That is the whole point", Odahviing growled. "I need not be an exception. You need not be an enemy to my kind, Dovahkiin."

"Harald", the slayer returned petulantly. "That's my name! If you don't want me to be an enemy, stop calling me what basically translates to dragon slayer!"

"It is not a dragon name", Odahviing refused.

"It is my name! I don't have another", the Dovahkiin said, upset.

"I will call you Kaal, if you insist. It carries a similar meaning", Odahviing offered. He had thought a lot about that actually. The Dovahkiin had no mother to give him his first name-word and if Akatosh had ever offered, evidently the slayer didn't accept it. It was a great honor and a sign of affection to the hatchling to be given the first name-word. Odahviing had thought about a fitting word for days following their little falling out, after they arrived in this foreign land. It was, perhaps, even a little bit his way of apologizing for the cruel way he had shaken the hatchling's worldview.

But as expected, the Dovahkiin rejected the idea and threw his kindness back into his face.

"No", the man made stubbornly. "I don't want a dragon name. Just… forget about it."

Odahviing had no response. He didn't like that tight feeling in his chest, that little beast that tried to claw its way out of his chest. He refused to be hurt by words that held no power.

After some time, the slayer quietly asked him to return back to the ground. Once there he made up some excuse about wanting to teach his companion a lesson in magic to take him away from the group. Odahviing knew that what he was really after was the comfort he found in the mortal's arms, trying to strengthen his own humanity by following his mortal urges. Odahviing knew that if he wanted to make any progress with the Dovahkiin at all, he should probably find a way to separate those two. Yet he could not find in him the strength to do so. Their conversation had upset him and after he was done delivering the slayer to his group, he promptly took off again, flying far and fast, intend to put some distance between him and the slayer. He wanted to be alone with his thoughts. The Dovahkiin would call him if needed, he knew.

When night came, Odahviing settled on a mountain top, overlooking the pass the group would need to take to enter Surda according to their maps, and curled in on himself. He spend that night in meditation and in prayer to Akatosh, father-of-his-heart. For the first time in ages, he felt helpless and hopeless and he did not know if he could truly complete his mission of guiding the Laat Dovahkiin. He had nearly given up when the first rays of sunshine came up over the horizon and with them came a whisper in the wind.

Do not give up, my child. Your king will grow up when the egg hatches, for he will have to accept your guidance when there is another who will need him to guide them.


XxX

MPOV

Murtagh had the feeling that something was bothering Harald. After he'd returned from his 'hunting trip' with Odahviing, which they returned from without any game mind you, he'd unceremoniously all but dragged Murtagh into the woods where he snogged the life out of him. Not that he was complaining. It had ended up being extremely pleasurable for him as Harald spend about an hour all but worshipping his body. But the abrupt way in which it all started lead him to think his lover was merely trying to distract himself.

"Do you want to tell me what brought on this mood of yours?" he asked later, when they lay next to each other on a bed of moss, sweaty, tired but satisfied. Harald had his head on Murtagh's chest and he was languidly drawing his fingers through the others dark hair.

"Just something stupid that bastard lizard said", Harald muttered. "I just wanna forget about it."

"Alright, I won't pry then", Murtagh replied.

Despite that though, it only took Harald about half a minute, till he turned his head to look at him and asked in a small voice:

"Hey Murtagh… Do you think I'm like a dragon?"

Murtagh blinked at him, confused. Why did he sound so hesitant asking something like that?

"Uhm… I don't know? I mean, I don't know all that much about what dragons are like", he said, not wanting to say the wrong thing but not knowing what that would entail.

"Oh", Harald made and went back to staring listlessly into the forest.

Murtagh kept petting his head. He had the need to elaborate and explained: "You're… You're gorgeous and powerful, sometimes intimidating but also funny and enthusiastic. You can be mischievous and a bit of a braggart but I also get like you have a strong urge to help people in need. That's how I see you but I don't know if those are dragon traits or not. They seem pretty human to me but humans can be very different from each other. I think dragons can be too. Odahviing and Saphira sure seem different to me."

"I… I guess they are. Saphira is sorta quiet. Though that might just be because she's mute."

"That's probably a part of it", Murtagh agreed, smiling. "But Eragon also describes her as being very caring. Did you see how she worried about that egg last night?"

"Yeah", Harald made and sat up abruptly. "I did." He just sat there for a moment, turned away from him, then suddenly started to reach for his armor and redress himself.

"You alright?" Murtagh asked.

"Yeah. I'm just… thinking", he muttered. "Let's head back to the others."

They went back to the camp together. Fortunately they ran across a hare on the way back so they could at least pretend to actually have gone hunting and the group had something for lunch. During the break Harald insisted that the dragon egg should be put near the fire to keep it warm and him and Murtagh both carefully inspected it for any scratches.

The party talked a bit about their plans once they reached Surda. Brom was convinced that they'd be approached by the Varden soon. Saphira and Odahviing had surely been spotted around the area and news would spread fast.

"The Varden are going to try and convince you to give them your full support and fight for them", Brom told Eragon. "But it is too soon for that. Saphira is not yet fully grown. You should focus on your training more."

"I agree", Arya said. "It would be best if we could convince them to give us safe passage to the forests of the elves. They will be able to help you best."

"But I'm already training with Harald and I really think I've gotten stronger", Eragon protested. "Shouldn't I stay where he's at?"

"Oh, I'm definitely going to fight", Harald said. "If the humans want a dragon rider to rally behind, I'll give them that. You can go training with the elves or whatever but if you stick with me, you'll grow much faster."

"You won't have much time to train Eragon or Saphira if you're busy fighting a war", Brom protested.

"The best way to grow your skills is by fighting stronger and ever stronger opponents. And if we do run across someone that's too much, I'll be there to take care of it", Harald insisted. "Training can be useful… but only for certain skills, skills that you seldom have a chance to use. It's a waste of time and money for actual fighting and most crafting skills. I'd say it's only really useful for support skills like… like evasion, how to properly move in your armor, or healing magic. But if you have the right equipment, that's almost unnecessary as well."

"You did mention something about making me a proper armor set once you got the materials", Murtagh remembered. "How about we focus on that first? You make both Eragon and me some 'proper equipment' as you call it, so we'll have a baseline protection when we go into battle with you. Until that equipment is ready, we'll focus more on training and then we can start battling more seriously."

Harald nodded, looking satisfied. "You're starting to get the hang of this. That's exactly how I approached my hunt for the dragon masks. Preparation is key! Those goddamn lich can be a real pain in the ass."

Brom still was not satisfied but Murtagh turned a deaf ear to his continued protests and instead turned to watch the crackling fire, leaving the others to their squabbling. Thus he was the only one who noticed that first crack that did not come from the air escaping the dry wood.

It came from the egg.

Murtagh's eyes widened and he motioned for everyone to be quiet. All attention turned to him, then towards the red egg that he was staring at.

Saphira, who'd been laying down behind Eragon, stood and came closer, sniffing the egg.

"What is it?" Eragon wanted to know.

As if to answer the question, there was another quiet, cracking sound. A new white line had appeared on the shell, tiny and thin as a hair. Carefully Murtagh reached for the piece of leather the egg was resting on and pulled it away from the fire. As he did so a tiny piece of eggshell chipped off the top of the egg and the whole thing began to tremble, then fell onto the side.

"It's hatching", Arya exclaimed breathlessly.

Everyone stared at the egg in wonder and excitement. A tiny hole had formed in the top. The egg started to shake harder and something like a little white horn started to try and push itself out of the hole. Murtagh held his breath.

"Come on, you can do it", he muttered, silently cheering the little hatchling on.

The horn was pulled back and for a moment the egg lay still. Then more of the shell was chipped off around the hole as a couple of tiny claws took the horns place. The long crack going around the egg became larger and then, suddenly, then entire egg was ripped cleanly in half. A small bundle of dark red wings and too-long a neck sprawled onto the leather as the hatchling practically fell out of its egg head-over-heels. Murtagh chuckled as he noticed the two almost entirely undamaged halves of the egg shell. He was sure that little show-off had cracked it like that on purpose. It was a rather impressive feat, even if he had tumbled out of the shell rather gracelessly as a result.

The little hatchling untangled his wings from his tail and Murtagh finally got a good look at it. The little beastie was magnificent. The wings were a deep blood red on the upside but a much lighter orange color on the underside. The scales on its back where a spotted red and brown with light little nubs that might one day develop into spikes. The scales covering his head were a deep wine red with a little white dots all around its face, almost like freckles. As it blinked, it revealed vibrant red eyes that Murtagh was immediately transfixed by.

"Nobody move", he heard Brom whisper from the other side of the fire. From the corner of his eye, Murtagh saw Harald twitch but he stayed as still as everyone else.

Eragon had stepped back, standing next to Saphira.

There were four people sitting around this fire now, any of which might be chosen as a dragon rider: Murtagh, Harald, Brom and Arya. Harald already had a dragon but he'd never been bonded with him the way members of the Order were. He might get chosen because the dragon sensed his power or he might be discarded as the scent of a foreign dragon still clung to him. Brom obviously held a great deal of care for dragons within him. He was protective of Saphira and Eragon and Murtagh couldn't decide if he was cautious or cowardly. Dragons were as different as people where so if this hatchling was less one for battle and more cautious in nature too, he might end up choosing the old man. Then of course there was Arya, an elven princess, the oldest and maybe wisest member of their party. Historically, a lot more elves had been dragon riders than humans so it was entirely possible, even likely, that the dragon would chose her.

Against them, what was Murtagh? Son of a traitor and mediocre swordsman. But… that wasn't true anymore, was it? He was a decent mage in training now and his skills with a blade had improved a lot. He was a Shadeslayer now and companion to arguably the most powerful being in this world. It was obvious to him that Harald would be the first choice for any dragon who wanted to have a rider but if, for whatever reason, it couldn't be him, then…

Murtagh had only started to dare to hope when the little hatchling turned its head in this and that direction, sniffing at all of the assembled candidates – and then came waddling over in his direction. Murtagh stopped breathing altogether when the little dragon approached him on its stocky legs and then all but flopped over and right into his lap. Its wings flapped once or twice, trying to catch its balance before they came to a halt, spread over both his tights. The hatchling gave a little growl, then gazed up at him from down in his lap with its red eyes, as if daring him to mock him.

It was unbearably cute. Murtagh tried, he really did, but he couldn't stop a smile from forming. He reached out for the little hatchling, intend to help him up from its awkward position. He knew what was going to happen, he'd dreamed of and feared this day ever since he'd first learned of his father's role in the Empire. When his hand touched the red scales, an icy pain went through his entire arm but he grit his teeth and did not flinch back. The gedwëy ignasia burned itself into his palm as he supported the dragon with his hand. He used the other too once the pain abated and ended up properly cradling the young one in his arm. He felt it then, the presence of a foreign mind touching his. It was so free and open to him. He felt a deep satisfaction from it, together with curiosity, pride and an unspoken demand for attention. Murtagh reciprocated the touch, sharing his previous thoughts about how impressive the hatching was with the shell so cleanly cracked in two. The hatchling preened at that, all smug and proud and Murtagh caught the first coherent thought from his dragon.

'For you.'

And in that moment something small and broken and tired and scared uncurled itself deep within Murtagh's chest and he hugged the dragon close. With his mind he let it glimpse a small part of the emotions raging now within him. He was unable to put into words how he felt in that moment. He knew what being a dragon rider was, he knew his role and how his future had just irrevocably changed. Murtagh had always feared to one day become like his father but to have a dragon - to have a dragon had never been part of that fear. To have such a powerful creature that needed and wanted only him bond with him like that, it had always been a dream of his. The moment that dream had come true though, there was also fear, fear of Galbatorix taking it all away from him, of forcing his will onto them like he'd done to Shruikan. He could never allow that to happen. Never ever ever.

'I'll protect you, little one. I'll protect you and make sure you can grow up fast and strong', he vowed towards the hatchling. 'Thank you for choosing me.'

The dragon made a little confused sound, not fully grasping the depths of his words.

'You're welcome?'

Murtagh chuckled. Just the mere touch of that young mind against his was enough to eventually calm his raging heart. He sat up a bit straighter and could now for the first time take in the reactions of his companions.

Arya looked disappointed but hid it well. Brom was stony-faced and unreadable. Eragon was smiling warmly at him. Saphira's attention was focused entirely on the hatchling. She was fascinated. Harald… Murtagh was afraid to look at Harald but did so anyway. It was hard to tell what Harald was feeling. There seemed to be a lot. There was yearning and sadness but also relief and warmth and that odd transfixed expression he had whenever he was head over heels for something – like a new alchemy ingredient discovered, a new quest accepted or a pet Ra'zac gained.

"He's a handsome little guy, isn't he?" Harald said at last, smiling a little.

"The most magnificent of all", Murtagh agreed and meant every word.

The hatchling preened some more and turned around in his arm so he could properly view the others. It reminded Murtagh of a king shifting his position on his throne.

"Saphira wants to know if you have a name in mind", Eragon said quietly.

A name? Blast it! Murtagh hadn't even thought of that. He hadn't expected the dragon to hatch for him. He could still barely believe that he had, not when Harald was sitting right there!

"I…" he stammered, at a loss for words.

'A name! I wanna have a name. A good one!', the hatchling demanded. It stretched its neck until it touched its chin with Murtagh's and the young man was overcome with how goddamn fucking cute his dragon was. He made sure not to let that thought slip out though.

"I need more time to think of a good name. It can't be just anything", he decided. Murtagh felt the hatchling's impatience. It wanted a name now but it also wanted a really good one and if forced to choose, it grudgingly accepted to wait until Murtagh came up with something good.


Three days passed.

The group made their way through the pass in the mountains. They spotted Odahviing flying overhead once or twice but the red dragon mostly kept his distance. He came by once when they made camp for the night, sniffed at the red hatchling and darkly told Murtagh not to leave it alone with Harald. Then he was off again. Slowly but surely, Murtagh got the impression him and Harald had a row of sorts.

The young dragon was very demanding of Murtagh's attention. He was constantly nudging his mind, asking questions. He liked to climb on top of Saphira, to sprawl all over her back and enjoy the sun. He liked to play with fire, to crawl ever closer to the flame and see when it would burn him. He liked to climb all over Murtagh too, to curl around his shoulders like a shawl and nibble at his hair and proudly call himself a 'human rider'. And he liked to eat. A lot.

It was mostly Harald who volunteered to go hunting. In the beginning Murtagh was glad for the support but as the days passed, he couldn't help but feel like his lover was avoiding him. Tomorrow they would reach the border of Surda and they'd have even less time. So when they made camp in the evening, Murtagh left his dragon in Saphira's capable claws and insisted on joining Harald on his hunting trip. He didn't know how to broach the subject of his odd behavior. Luckily though he had a perfectly valid reason of wanting to talk to the dragonborn.

"The little one keeps bugging me about a name", he started off. "I asked him what kind of name he'd like but he has no idea! I explained how Eragon named Saphira and he didn't seem to like that. Then I told him how in your world, dragon names have three syllables in the dragon tongue, these words of power as you called them and he liked that a lot more. So I was thinking of giving him a name like that – but of course I don't speak dragon."

"Dovahzul", Harald corrected him automatically.

"Yes, that. Maybe you can help me find a name?" Murtagh asked.

Harald gave a bone deep sign.

"I guess I could do that. But finding a first name-word for a dragon is no easy task. Not every word in human language is a single word in dovahzul. Not even every human word with one syllable. And besides, I don't speak dovahzul fluently, so some words I can't translate. What were you thinking off?"

"Well, my first thought was 'Thorn', like, being a thorn in our enemies side", Murtagh suggested.

"I don't know how to translate that", Harald blocked him. "I don't even know if there is a word like that – dragons tend to think in grander terms. Thorns on plants and such are so tiny they wouldn't even notice them."

"Oh. Well, I suppose it's not grand enough for a dragon name then. What about something referring to freedom?"

"There's stin, meaning freedom or freely."

"Stin… that doesn't sound too nice as a name", Murtagh muttered. "What about flying, or something to do with open skies?"

"There are several words for that… There's bo, which can also mean flow and Ru, which is more like fleeing. There's ven for the wind and viing for wings. Those are all really common for dragon name-words."

"Odahviing… so he's got wings in his name, huh?" Murtagh mused. He didn't really like the idea of giving his dragon a common name, even if it was a common dragon name. Especially not if one of the only three dragons in existence already had that in his name.

Harald nodded. "It literally translates to 'winged snow hunter'. Going after the dragon tradition, the first word would've been given to him and the other two chosen by himself. Odahviing is a legendary dragon, so the one to name him would've been Akatosh, I guess. I'm not sure what the order is, if he was first named viing, od which means snow or ah which means hunter. In dovahzul, words sometimes get entirely different meanings when put together so the order might get all jumbled up as they gain more name-words later on."

"What are other common dragon name-words?" Murtagh wanted to know.

Harald sighed. "The first name-word, as I understand it, usually incorporates a wish for what the hatchling is going to become. So common words are things like victor, ruler, hunter, predator and the like. Sometimes it's a reference to a specific skill – like flying, or shouting, frost or fire."

Murtagh snorted, thinking about his proud little hatchling. "I bet he would love that."

"Odahviing wanted to name me kaal", Harald then suddenly said, in that quiet tone of his that told Murtagh he was trying very hard to make it sound nonchalant – and failing miserably.

"It translates to champion or victor. He said he chose it because it has a similar meaning as 'Harald' but that's bullshit. 'Harald' comes from 'harbinger' and there is a word in dovahzul for that – it's qolaas. Literally lightning-life. Like I said, two words together can mean something else entirely. It's two syllables so it's not fit to be a name-word of course but of all the alternate words with similar meaning– he chose kaal. It could've been hun for hero or even jun for ruler. But he chose champion. Because I'm supposed to be the champion of Akatosh. A god that threw me into the world without so much as a single word, had me battle dragons in his name and then cursed me for being too good at it."

"You don't have to accept that as your name-word, if you don't like it", Murtagh said.

"Don't I?" Harald laughed humorlessly. "That's the whole point of the first name-word. You don't get to chose it yourself. It symbolizes what others see in you. I know a dragon named Dur-neh-viir. He's a powerful necromancer who made a deal with a daedra, got screwed over and tricked into becoming their slave. Now he serves the Ideal Masters and they mocked him by changing his first name-word. I don't know what he was called before that, he won't talk about it. I'm pretty sure as a necromancer he chose the last two words himself – neh-viir, never dying. Dragons pride themselves in being un-aging, as near immortal as a creature can get on the mortal plane. But his first name-word was chosen by his new masters when they chained him and he is bound to it now. Dur, curse. Because now instead of an immortal master of magic, he's an immortal, undead monster."

Murtagh shuddered at gruesome tale. He imagined a mix of shade and dragon; it sounded really horrible.

"But Odahviing is not a daedra with hold over your soul and you're not a hatchling. You can pick your own dragon name if you want one and you can continue to go by Harald if you don't", Murtagh argued.

Harald sighed. "I guess you're right. I'm sorry, I'm making this about myself again. You were looking for a name-word for your dragon."

"I don't want anything common", Murtagh decided. "Nothing to do with the color red or something everybody uses. I don't want it to be too much to do with expectations either, just… something that describes him, something good that I'll maybe encourage him in?"

"He's three days old, how much character can he have this early?" Harald asked skeptically.

"Quite a lot actually", Murtagh replied and chuckled a bit. "He's prideful and smug and a bit possessive. He's curious and lazy and always hungry."

Harald thought for a moment. "Well there's kah for pride, but I'm not sure you should encourage that, or really any of the other traits. What about something to do with your bond? What do you feel when you think about the future you two have together?"

Murtagh bit his lip and his gaze darkened a bit. "I… I want to protect him. I promised him I would. I'll never allow him to fall into Galbatorix' hand. I don't want to become like my father, I want to be like the Riders of old. I want to fight to free and to save people, not to shackle them. I feel like he's my chance to really step out of my father's shadow. I want to be known alongside his name rather than Morzan's."

Harald nodded. "How about vaat then, 'promise' for the promise you made to protect him and to help him use his power for good? Or shaan, inspiration, for the vision you have of the two of you?"

"Shaan", Murtagh repeated quietly, trying it out. "I think I like that. It has a nice ring to it."

"If you go for the Tamrielic dragon tradition, he's gonna chose a second word for himself anyway so it doesn't matter all that much as long as it's nothing too embarrassing", Harald reassured him.

"It seemed to matter a lot to you", Murtagh reminded him.

"Ugh, I'm not… I don't mind the word itself, that much, it's just… I'm against having a dragon name in the first place. And yet it feels like everything is pushing me to be more dragon-like. And when I stop and really think about it, I start liking that and I like that even less!"

"That doesn't make any sense", Murtagh stated. "Do you want to be Kaal or not?"
Harald kicked against a loose stone on their way and made a frustrated sound.

"The thing is", he admitted eventually, never looked at him as if divulging a dirty secret, "I've kind of already picked my own second name-word. When I first heard about that tradition, how your first word is given to you and the second is picked for something that defined you and the third is found via deep meditation or something – I wondered what I'd pick as my second word if I were a dragon. And I knew, right away. I was young back then, I only knew a handful of words but I knew right away what I would pick. I'd pick vu. It means 'dawn'. Back then I still thought I had merely lost my memory, that this new role of mine as dragonborn was a new beginning. A new dawn for me. And then I kept taking on all of these other roles, taking over guilds and becoming a war hero and all of that and every time I thought how fitting that word still was for me. I kept bringing a new dawn to every group I connected to. I picked that word before I was fully aware what it really meant to be the last dragonborn. I thought I was just the first of many, that soon others would appear to combat all the new dragons. But vu-kaal? Together like that, it's like the freedom I felt inherit in my second word gets shackled down by the first. It reduces my role in all of my many adventures to just being that one dawn that I brought all of Nirn when I slayed the world eater. Kaal on its own can just mean victor, and I could live with that. But vu-kaal would always quite obviously refer to me being the champion of Akatosh, destined to bring about the new dawn. I fulfilled that role at the age of three. It's what I was created for and now… Was that it? Is that all that's ever going to define me? Did I have my peak of power at age three and it's all the way downwards from now on? Is anybody going to remember that I also saved Solstheim from Miraak and Winterhold from whatever the fuck the Eye of Magnus was doing and all that other stuff? In a hundred years, will it even matter that I became the greatest assassin of Skyrim or any of the other things I did that had absolutely nothing to do with Akatosh? Vukaal - is that all I am?"

"Obviously not", Murtagh replied. He felt a bit mystified by the turn his friend's thoughts had taken. I saved the world once, is that all I'm ever going to be good for? Wasn't that enough?

"You still have your third name-word to discover, don't you? And like you said, one syllable can change the meaning of an entire word", he tried to cheer him up. "Why don't you meditate on that and if you figure out your third word and you still don't like your dragon name, you can just remain Harald."

"You mean… I should wait and see what kind of dragon I'd be before I decide whether or not to reject my dragon nature? Because dragons can be different just like humans can be?" Harald wondered.

"Uhm… I thought we were just talking names", Murtagh made.

Harald didn't seem to have heard him. "But what if I find my dragon name and that pushes me farther down the road of being more dragon and then I can't find my way back to being human?"

Murtagh sighed. "I still don't fully understand why you're so terrified of your own nature. Dragons are cool. They're beautiful. They're cute – don't ever tell Shaan I said that but they are! And it's not like you're growing scales or a tail. What are you so afraid of?"

Harald looked affronted. "I'm not afraid! It's just… The Way of the Voice versus the Way of the Blades… I have to be careful, lest I end up like Alduin or Miraak or hell, even Vyrthur. When most of the world-ending catastrophes you're being send out to prevent are caused by people defying Akatosh and you yourself find you have more contempt for said god than for all your daedric patrons put together, it kinds makes you think!"

Murtagh sighed. "Look, I'm the last person to go to for advice on how to make peace with a father that was never there for you. But ever since I left the capital and joined you and especially now, with Shaan, it feels like I left my past behind me. I still think about it. Shaan is a constant reminder of where I come from and at the same time he's not because he's young and pure and doesn't yet have an opinion on anything because he's experiencing everything for the first time. You said you're worried nobody will remember you but for your connection to Akatosh but that's simply not true. Don't you have a daughter yourself? What was her name – Sofia?"

"Sofie", Harald corrected him with a slight smile.

"Exactly. She will remember you as her father. Your friends back in Nirn will remember you for the adventures you went on together. Eragon will remember you as a teacher. I will remember you as the man I… Well, I'll definitely remember you and none of those things have anything to do with Akatosh."

Murtagh had almost slipped up there for a moment but he caught himself. It was too early to admit his feelings for the other man to himself, much less to Harald in person. Especially now that Shaan's existence had turned his whole prospective on life upside down. Fuck, weren't human dragon riders supposed to start aging as slowly as elves to match their life span? He hadn't even started to think what that would mean for his relationship with Harald, whose life span had already been cut short by twenty years just from having been created as an adult.

Some of the tension seemed to fall off Harald. He stopped to kiss Murtagh – just a slight brush of lips, nothing passionate at all but it was the first kiss they'd shared since the dragon had hatched. Murtagh himself was surprised by the relief that flooded him and weakened his knees. He hated it when Harald closed himself off like that.

"Thank you, senche. You always know just what to say to build me up again."

"Yes well, you're welcome. And don't even think about sprouting any anti-dragon nonsense around my impressionable little hatchling, you hear? Just because the maker has a shitty character doesn't mean the creation can't be magnificent. Art is sometimes weird like that."

Harald laughed at that and slung an arm around Murtagh's shoulders. "I'll have to remember that one. I didn't expect you'd become such a dragon fan. Then again, maybe I should've guessed, what with how eager you were to ride a dragon right from the first day we met." He winked at him suggestively.

"Ugh, you're horrible", Murtagh made and kissed him. Properly, this time around.

Their hunting trip took two hours longer than usual.