Disclaimer: I do not own The Inheritance Cycle. I only own the OC Michael Draven/Ancalagon.
With some things answered, but Ancalagon refusing on his and his companions' behalf to have their minds inspected and requesting to speak with the leader of the Varden (And also keeping the bald-headed bastard restrained by the shadows because he couldn't be bothered listening to his voice), Orik was leading them down the tunnel that led to the dwarven city of Tronjheim. Questions arose, along with the mistake that Murtagh was another Rider with Ancalagon as his dragon, something which was instantly cleared up. A part of Ancalagon relished in the reactions he gained when revealing that he was a wild dragon.
Along the way, Ancalagon privately spoke with Eragon, Saphira and Murtagh, warning them to be cautious while they were here and to prepare themselves for meeting the Varden's leader. Time will tell if the Varden are trustworthy allies, but not all of them will have their best intentions in mind. Some will seek to have them under their control by any means.
Something Ancalagon refused to allow. He was a wild dragon, nobody controlled him.
For what felt like an hour, they walked through the tunnel without pause, the only sound being the breathing of the dragons along with their claws scraping against the ground as they walked. At last a soft white glow became visible ahead of them. The glow increased in strength as they neared it.
Now they could see thick marble pillars laced with rubies and amethysts standing in rows along the walls. Scores of lanterns hung between the pillars, suffusing the air with liquid brilliance. Gold tracery gleamed from the pillars' bases like molten thread. Arching over the ceiling were carved raven heads, their beaks open in mid-screech. At the end of the hallway rested two colossal black doors, accented by shimmering silver lines that depicted a seven-pointed crown that spanned both sides.
Ancalagon came to a halt and let out a huff, getting everyone's attention. "What's the matter, dragon?" Orik asked, wondering why he stopped.
It seems the guards who carried Arya off couldn't keep their mouths shut. I sense a great number of people on the other side of the door. I felt it necessary to stop and perhaps give our Rider a chance to make a good first impression. Ancalagons aid, turning to look at a horror-struck Eragon, amusement flashing across Ancalagon's silver eyes.
Orik sighed, muttering several dwarven curses before speaking in the common tongue. "Nothing we can do about it now. What would you have us do, dragon?"
Eragon, ride upon Saphira for now. You'll go first, and I'll come next. Ancalagon instructed, then snorted when seeing the look on Eragon's save. I'm not asking you to give a speech, amusing as that would be, just smile and wave.
Watching Eragon for a moment, Ancalagon turned his attention to Saphira and his lip curled into a grin.
Show them the pride of our kind.
Saphira;s eyes gleamed with excitement. That I can do.
Once Eragon was safely on Saphira's back, Ancalagon moved aside so Saphira could go front, however he blinked when her tail gently caressed against his forelegs, trailed up his neck and brushed against his chin, leaving his mouth agape. Saphira didn't seem to notice, though she must've been purposefully doing that. Murtagh and several soldiers snickered as they saw the sight of a dumbstruck dragon, with Murtagh nudging Ancalagon's leg with his elbow.
"Women, eh?" He asked teasingly.
Women. Ancalagon grumbled, trying to put aside the rush that came through his body at Saphira's actions. It really didn't help with his growing feelings for her. He turned his attention to Murtagh. Stay close to my side, none will harm you as long as I draw breath.
Murtagh's expression changed and he nodded, knowing that he was in a place that will judge him for simply being Morzan's son. Ancalagon returned his attention to the gates.
Now then, let's get this over with.
Ancalagon walked forward, head held up and chest puffed with the pride of a dragon. The mass of people were cheering for Eragon and Saphira, but the moment the silver dragon came out of the darkness and onto the cobblestone path, silence fell like a thick, suppressive blanket. Everyone was staring with gaping mouths at the sudden appearance of a slightly larger dragon suddenly amongst them. The scattered children in the crowd hid or clinged to their parents and many men fidgeted, gripping the swords at their hips.
Ancalagon ran his gaze over the crowd without emotion, then snorted before walking forward with Murtagh beside him. as Ancalagon was about to come to Saphira's side and walk side-by-side with her, he came to a stop when he felt a gentle pull on his tail, followed by a sharp intake by the crowd. Turning his head, Ancalagon's eyes widened when he saw a curious child, about four or five years old, had wandered over from his mother and was now clinging to Ancalagon's tail while giggling innocently.
Ancalagon could see the crowd watching with baited breath, the child's mother looking petrified in fear that he'd burn her child for touching him. Ancalagon almost snorted at that but held back the urge. Instead, he gently coiled his tail around the child and lifted him up, unable to help but let a fanged smile come onto his face as the boy giggled, too innocent to be aware of being held by one of the world's most dangerous predators. Carefully, he brought the boy over to his mother and allowed her to take him, but not without giving the boy a gentle tap on the head with his tail.
The crowd then clapped, applauded and cheered as Ancalagon walked on to join his watching friends.
What? He asked upon seeing their expressions.
"Big softy when it comes to kids, aren't you?" Eragon asked teasingly, getting a snort of smoke in the face as a response from the silver male before they walked on.
As they did, Saphira took glances at Ancalagon, then back to where he picked up the human child. Her mind turned, bringing up a fantasy image of him doing something similar... but to a dragon hatchling with scales like her own, and silver eyes like his.
The books described the city amazingly but no words could describe the real deal. The city itself looked like a terraced mountain of white marble, the countless lights making the city glow like a torch. The two massive gold griffins flanking the impressive timber gate gleamed with the lights and loomed over everyone. The walls leading to the gate had pillars of red jasper that gave an eerie light from the lamps in the small round window dotting the marble walls, and between those pillars were sculptures of strange creatures in such fine detail, you'd expect them to come alive.
Finally, they arrived at what was most likely Ajihad's office and were ushered inside. Three men stood in the center of the chamber, on the hammer inlaid in the floor. Two had skins of ebony, and while both stood with a regal air, only one seemed to flow with command. The third man was the other twin to the bald-headed bastard who was still bound by shadows but being carried by soldiers. Both twins had clearly been communicating as they were sending Ancalagon hateful glares, which just got a snort from the silver dragon.
Ajihad stepped forward as the group came to a stop, his voice was strong, confident: "Welcome to Tronjheim, Eragon and Saphira. Welcome to you as well, Ancalagon. I am Ajihad. The man to my left is Jörmundur, my second in command." He paused when his eyes found Mutagh standing in the shadow of Ancalagon's left wing, but continued on. "I must apologise for the... less than warm reception you recieved upon arrival. But with these times, such precuatious must be taken." Ajihad glanced at the still shadow-bound twin, and then looked at Eragon, an expectant expression on his face. "I am sure he is sorry as well, so I ask for you to release him from your spell."
As he spoke, the shadow-bound twin was brought forth and held up in front of them. Eragon looked between the Varden's leader and the struggling man, confused.
"I'm afraid I can't. I wasn't the one who did this." he said.
Ancalagon stepped forward. It was I who bound the vermin. He did not know his place, and foolishly chose to threaten a dragon. As long as he and his brother remain silent, I will release him. He said.
Ajihad had a brief look of surprise but maintained his neutral expression. He gave the Twins a look, and then a nod to Ancalagon who then released the bald-headed bastard he had bound by the shadows, allowing him to go stand with his brother, both of them shooting glares at the silver dragon who just dismissed them.
"Now then." Ajihad got everyone's attention once more. "You have placed me in a difficult position by refusing to have your minds examined. I understand, Eragon, that you didn't refuse and your silver friend did on behalf of all of you. But this means there will be those who will not trust you. Eragon will be accepted because he is a Rider, and that extends to you Saphira. But none will trust Ancalagon and your other friend."
Murtagh glowered at the floor. "No one would trust me anyway.."
Ancalagon watched as Ajihad's expression darken but his sigh surprised him. He seemed to age as he rubbed his face with a hand. "Though it's been twenty-three years since I heard that voice, you sound just like your father Murtagh. Thankfully, your voice and looks are the only thing you share with him if the various spies we have are to be believed."
Ancalagon was shocked, as this wasn't how it went in the book. The words are similar, but not the tone. Here he seemed much more reasonable… and calmer.
Eragon and Saphira shared a glance then he spoke up.
"Alright, why does everyone keep mentioning his father? Why would anyone hate Murtagh? It seems everyone knew who he was except for us. Even Ancalagon knew."
Ancalagon looked at Murtagh, privately speaking with him, and the young man looked resigned before he uttered the words. "My father... is Morzan."
Eragon gasped in shock while Saphira hissed, but Ancalagon gave her a look that told her to calm down
A son doesn't choose his father. he said to them, his stance seeming casual but those who were experienced warriors could see that he was ready to act should someone try to harm Murtagh.
"He's right." Murtagh said with a bitter, dark chuckle. "If that was possible, Morzan wouldn't be my father at all. The man was a monster. Cruel, selfish, greedy. He had no heart, even my mother was simply another tool for him and I was a weakness!" He ripped at his clothes with a desperate air, tearing off his tunic and shirt to bare his torso. "Look!" he pleaded, and turned his back to them. Eragon's eyes widened, Saphira jerked her head back as if struck, and Ancalagon let out a low growl.
There, against Murtagh's tanned and muscled skin, was a knotted white scar that stretched from his right shoulder to his left hip—a testament to some terrible agony.
"See that?" demanded Murtagh bitterly. "I was only three when I got it. During one of his many drunken rages, Morzan threw his sword at me as I ran by. My back was laid open by the very sword you now carry—the only thing I expected to receive as inheritance, until Brom stole it from my father's corpse. I was lucky, I suppose—there was a healer nearby who kept me from dying. You must understand, I don't love the Empire or the king. I have no allegiance to them, nor do I mean you harm."
"Then your father," Eragon said in a faltering voice, "was killed by..."
"Yes, Brom," said Murtagh. He pulled his tunic back on with a detached air.
Silence filled the room as Eragon and Saphira mentally comprehended the fact they had been travelling with Morzan's son. Ajihad then broke the silence by addressing Ancalagon.
"I am curious to your thoughts on him, Ancalagon. He is the son of a man known for killing your kind." He said.
The sins of the father should not be visited upon the children. Morzan's sins should be his own to pay for, and he is dead and gone for good, perhaps paying for his crimes in whatever realm of damnation you humans believe in. Murtagh is his own man. I judge and see him for who HE is, not who his father is.
Ajihad nodded. "Well said, a man should be judged by his actions, not those of others." Ancalagon could see both Eragon and Saphira thinking over those words, no doubt remembering their time with Murtagh. He had laid his head down next to Murtagh's chair when Eragon spoke up.
"Well, to Saphira and me, you're still our friend and if anyone wants to pick a fight with you then they'll have to face us as well."
Murtagh's reaction was worth it.
From there, things went almost the same as they did in the book, sans Murtagh being taken away. Orik was to be Eragon's guide and representative of Hrothgar, Eragon and Saphira were allowed to stay in the dragonhold, though Saphira insisted that Ancalagon join them as well.
After a hearty feast in Eragon and Saphira's honor, Murtagh was led to his own chambers. no one but Ajihad, Jörmundur, Orik, and Hrothgar would know who he was. Eragon, Saphira and Ancalagon went to the dragonhold and found a large, suitable cave for them.
Seeing that the cushioned bed was big enough for the both of them, Saphira looked at Ancalagon and nudged him. Come. She said and walked over, making herself comfortable as Ancalagon came over and joined her, draping his wing over her back like he knew she wanted, and he felt her snuggle against his warm bulk before their eyes closed and they drifted off to sleep.
Finally, a moment to relax and not worry about events to come... for now.
And that's it for this chapter, people.