(I know this is late, but I almost doubled my word count from what I had when I thought I was almost done, lol)
(Also, this is so long I posted it on AO3 here. Read it there if you want to.)
Guys... if you think that one Morzan redemption au is the only one I have... I’m bout to show you what’s what.
And guess what?????? ROLE SWAP AU! LET’S GO!!
This AU follows canon up until Murtagh’s birth. Like last time, for the sake of this AU I’ll specify that Morzan wasn’t the one who killed the first Saphira.
-
The news of Selena’s pregnancy brings Morzan no joy. He doesn’t believe in happy families. He puts no faith in family at all. To learn that he’s being forced into one he never wanted is... less than thrilling.
His mother resented him from the moment he was born and did all she could to get him out of her hair. He would say that she raised him alone, if not for the fact that she barely raised him at all. Her affection was miserable and her punishments harsh, but she taught him one invaluable lesson: the world is cruel.
All those kids he trained with, Brom and the rest, with parents who visited them and spoiled them, were all full of shit. They were faking it. They just pretended they weren’t fucked up like he was so they could feel better about themselves. So they could look down on him.
Morzan’s aware, in some suppressed part of his mind, that with this mentality, he’s shaping up to be just as terrible of a parent to his unborn child as his mother was to him. But whenever that thought worms its way back into his mind, he pulls open a new bottle of wine to drown it away again.
Selena’s not much better. She had taken to Morzan’s missions with a fervor, and she resents the child for forcing her to give them up. She itches to return to her work in service to the Empire and grows more and more irritable every day.
Arguments between Morzan and Selena grow more frequent and more dangerous. Their relationship, unhealthy on its best days, frays thinner than ever. The serving staff desperately attempt to stay out of their way; it seems like every other day one of them is on a warpath. By the time the baby is almost due, the tension has mounted to near unbearable.
Morzan stays as far away from the labor room as he can. He drinks through the whole birth. His hand shakes as he raises the goblet to his lips and he will never admit, not even to himself, how afraid he is. He’s not ready for this. He’ll never be ready for this.
By the time his child comes into the world, Morzan’s blacked out.
The next day, he puts off seeing the baby for as long as he can under the excuse of tending to his hangover. When he finally goes to the nursery in the late afternoon he finds Selena resting in bed and the baby in the arms of a nursemaid seated in the corner. He’s startled to see her, he thought that Selena would want to nurse her own child for at least the first day. Though, once he sees it, he can’t fathom why he thought she’d be interested.
He makes his way to the corner, ignoring a biting comment from Selena about his tardiness. The nursemaid offers him the baby, sleeping peacefully, but he stirs when Morzan lifts him into his arms.
He squirms and swings a chubby arm into Morzan’s face. He grabs the offending limb to push it aside, but the sight of his tiny, delicate hand in the grasp of his thick, calloused fingers freezes him in place. A heavy weight seems to settle on his shoulders. An unexpected sense of responsibility goes through him as he realizes how easily he could hurt this child, how fragile it is.
A playful squeal shakes him from his thoughts and for the first time Morzan meets the big gray eyes of his son. Something tugs in his heart that he’s not sure he ever knew was there. Without thinking, he lifts a hand to brush his finger over his little nose and smiles when his face scrunches up. He burbles and catches his finger with a clumsy hand and tugs. Morzan lets him hold on as he studies his baby with fascination for another minute.
Then he squeezes his eyes closed and starts to cry and Morzan abruptly feels extremely guilty. The nursemaid tells him he’s probably hungry and he lets her pry him out of his arms with surprising reluctance. He stares a moment longer then turns and walks out as fast as he can, feeling even less sure of himself than when he’d entered.
The next day, Selena announces that she will be leaving in a few days. As soon as she regains her strength to use her magic, she intends to leave on her next mission. Morzan barely stops himself from gaping at her. How can she possibly focus on that? He’s been so distracted he couldn’t even sleep last night!
Morzan had picked over his food and, for the first time in a long while, barely sipped at his wine. He readied for bed, mind fully occupied by those moments with his son. He stood hovering at his bedside for a long time before abruptly striding out of the room.
When he had picked the child up that time, he didn’t wake and continued to doze in Morzan’s arms. He held him for several minutes, examining his indistinct features and stroking his little hand with a thumb, until his pride would allow it for no longer. He handed him back to the nursemaid and realized he knew nothing about her. He had nothing to do with her selection and now he regretted it. With a cold glare, he threatened her extensively should she ever let harm befall him until he was satisfied with her terror. He left.
But when he finally settled into bed, he found no rest. It was as if he’d left his mind behind in the nursery and it couldn’t move anywhere else. He tossed back and forth restlessly, head filled with thoughts of the baby and heart filled with emotions he didn’t understand. To be frank, he didn’t want to. This single day had thrown everything he’d felt for the past eighty or so years into disarray. He hoped this was some sort of fluke, that tomorrow, he’d wake up feeling the same as he always did and things would return to normal.
They do not. Morzan continues his unusual behavior, surprising everyone, including himself, up until Selena’s departure. Morzan watches silently as Selena packs her belongings for this latest, bloody outing, arguments building on the horizon like storm clouds. For once, instead of breaching them, Selena just says, “I’ll be back in a fortnight. You’ll look after the baby?” “Of course!” Morzan barks, a moment before he realizes her tone was condescending and mocking.
Her eyes widen at his response then she snorts at him. Morzan scowls and spits, “I do what I want, woman,” although, he doesn’t quite know what he wants right now. Or maybe he does know and just doesn’t want to admit it because, after Selena leaves, Morzan’s feet carry him back to the nursery.
The staff are confused, even wary, at the sudden changes in the head of the household. They shy away, almost suspecting some sort of farce. All of them notice, including the old gardener in the one room cabin on the grounds.
Brom’s first several years disguised at Morzan’s manor were much the same. Eavesdrop on the staff, spy on the Black Hand’s outings, watch Morzan drink himself near to death every couple weeks. It was routine. All these things surrounding Murtagh... he wasn’t counting on this.
He sees the first time Morzan brings him outside, up on a balcony overlooking the gardens. He has little Murtagh hoisted in his arms and his eyes go wide as he brings him out into the great wide world. Brom’s too far to hear his words, but his look of fondness while he murmurs to his son is one Brom never thought to see on Morzan’s face. When Murtagh starts to cry after a while, Morzan gently brings him back inside and Brom realizes his jaw is hanging open.
He’s there about a month later when a commotion breaks out around the side of the castle. When he wanders around, he finds Morzan bellowing at a carriage driver and a few work hands that had arrived. They bow and scrape but Morzan doesn’t stop shouting until he’s chased them away. Only as Brom watches the retreating carriage does he realize that it was the regular delivery of wine, which Morzan would have rather killed than go without. At least, he would have before...
(This one concerns him. He’s built a good disguise, but he also counts on Morzan’s perpetual drunkenness to keep him from being recognized.)
He watches as Morzan and Selena storm onto the balcony of their room, arguing explosively one night. Morzan has Murtagh, crying, tucked against his chest and Selena keeps gesturing to him as she shouts. After a time, she lunges forward and grabs at Murtagh and Morzan jerks back. Murtagh starts wailing louder than ever. A painful moment passes where Selena glares and Morzan gapes, then he whirls back inside. Brom cranes his neck futilely to see inside, and wonders if the child was hurt.
He sees Morzan introduce him to his dragon for the first time in the enormous courtyard in the grounds. Murtagh squeals with glee and reaches his little arms out as far as he can. Morzan lifts him up and the great red beast lowers his head to meet him. Murtagh wraps his arms around the small span of his snout that he can muster until the dragon gently pulls back. Despite Murtagh’s obvious joy, Brom sees sorrow in Morzan’s eyes as he beholds his mindless partner.
He’s there when Morzan brings him out into the garden, holding his hands as he totters along. He laughs as he chases after butterflies and encourages him to befriend the garden cats. But Brom also sees his glances up at the balcony when Murtagh’s back is turned and sees his apprehension. He wonders what Selena’s relationship with her son is like.
He knows when Morzan’s resolve fails and he descends into the cellars because he finds him passed out, breath stinking of wine, on one of the benches outside to avoid bumping into Murtagh in that state. With his face relaxed, Morzan looks more human than Brom has ever cared to see. One especially cold night, Brom brings out a blanket and lays it over him without stopping to consider the gesture.
He watches when Morzan returns from one of Galbatorix's missions and heads straight for his son. Murtagh shouts and runs to him the moment he sees and Morzan sweeps him up in his arms. He showers him in kisses as he giggles and squirms and he tells him how much he missed him.
And he wakes up in the middle of the night one night when he hears a knock on his door.
His heart rate spikes when he opens the door to find Morzan, but before he can react, he's grabbed his chin and tilted his head back. Brom manages a "Can I help you?" but when Morzan continues to turn his head to examine his features, he knows the jig is up.
Morzan's voice is surprisingly calm when he says, "Hell, it really is you. How long have you been living here, right under my nose?" There’s a pause, and Brom nearly bites out a caustic response when Morzan says, “Gods, I was terrible to you. I should have treated you better. I should have never left you to join that rabid traitor. I’m sorry.” He releases him gently.
Of all the things Brom expected, an apology was the very last one. He takes a step back in shock, and Morzan takes it as an invitation to come in. “So you’re spying for the Varden, I imagine?” Brom regains his wits and snaps, “Do you expect me to tell me anything?!” “No, I suppose not...”
The silence lasts until, suddenly, Morzan is talking. He’s discussing Galbatorix’s most recent plans, the Varden outposts they’re aware of, the mission Selena is planning next, and more. Brom just stares as he divulges this veritable treasure trove of information; he would be salivating if he didn’t feel so suspicious.
When Morzan finally trails off, Brom asks, “Why would you tell me any of that?”
“Because I was wrong. And damn me, it took nearly a century to realize it, but I was wrong the whole time. Everything Galbatorix has done has made things bad and worse and nothing makes up for it. Not the power I gained, not the grudges I settled... None of it was worth it. You were right all along but I never bothered to stop and see it. Maybe I can make it up to you, even just slightly.”
“And Murtagh?” Morzan sighs sadly. “I know that if anyone can make a better world for him, it’s you. God knows I’ve just fucked everything up. But I’ll do what I can now.” “You’ve changed enough?” “For the first time in... ever, I’ve realized the value that life has. How special it is. Yes, my Name’s changed; he’s changed it.”
Then Morzan swears in the ancient language that all the information he gave was true and Brom’s opinion of him, which had been in limbo for months, snaps into something like respect. So they settle into an agreement where Morzan will report to him and Brom will send his information on to the Varden.
It’s a precarious and dangerous game when surrounded by such dangerous and intelligent people as Selena and Galbatorix, but Morzan manages to hide his shift in allegiance. Luckily, it’s not terribly difficult to sneak out of the manor, considering how often Selena is away on her missions. So, some nights, Morzan goes out into the ground to discuss matters with Brom in the little, one room cabin.
At first, their relationship is completely professional, they go over the matters that they need to, then go on their way. But it doesn’t stay that way. For one thing, it has been a very long time since Brom could converse with someone who knew who he was, and he can’t help but give into the temptation to tell Morzan about his experiences, to complain, banter, and laugh.
(After one cheeky complaint about living with Morzan’s miserable pay grade, Morzan actually does give him a raise. In fact, he gives all his staff a raise. He claims that it would be too suspicious to give it to Brom alone, but Brom sees it for the kind gesture it is.)
Morzan, for one, relishes in finally having someone he can brag about his son to. He’ll talk about Murtagh for as long as Brom will tolerate it, which is actually quite long because he finds it sweet (though he won’t admit it). Even after witnessing everything that he has, it’s these late night conversations that really reveal to him the true scope of change Murtagh has inspired in him. It’s a strange feeling to observe the man he could have been all those years.
At first, Brom is bitter, thinking it unfair that Morzan has only changed now, after so long, after so much damage had already been done. But he can’t ignore how hard he tries- he sees it every time- how much Morzan wants to make it worth it now that it’s happened. It’s in the back of both of their minds, that it might be too late now to make a difference. Morzan does everything he can to prove that wrong.
In the end, Brom chooses to focus on who he is now. He can’t change what happened in the past anymore than Morzan can, but he can aid him now. He can report his news to the Varden, he can deflect probing questions from the rest of the staff, and he can hold his hand when he chokes up as he talks about his dragon.
He helps Morzan help himself, and just maybe, it might ease some of the burden long resting on his heart as well.
The atmosphere between then starts to pick up strain each night they meet, until one night, when they remain after having discussed the tactical and the not so tactical. The uncomfortable silence lasts until Brom finally snaps, “Well are you going to kiss me or not?” Morzan frowns, “Do you want me to?” and that settles it. The old Morzan would have never asked, just taken what he wanted, so the fact that he asks now... Brom kisses him himself.
After a time, Brom mutters, “Damn you... Damn you for pulling me back into this, after so long...” Morzan pulls back. “You’re the one who kissed me.” “I know.” And he kisses him again.
Returning to his and Selena’s bed gets harder after that. The nights that she’s there are few enough, but she’s a cold, hard woman. His betrayal only adds to his stress and his paranoia keeps him from sleeping soundly with her at his side. He’s afraid he’ll wake up one morning with his throat slashed.
Increasing arguments don’t help either. They both fight frequently over how to raise Murtagh. Selena cares little for his tender age or childhood. She scorns his love of playing outside and his budding interest in the dusty, old piano. Whenever she catches Morzan playing with him or doing a project with him or telling him fantastical tales, she rages that he should be starting classes: learning about history, politics, and strategy.
Morzan tries to shield little Murtagh from all this as much as he can, but he can only do so much. Inevitably, Murtagh will seek out Selena on his own without Morzan there to defend him. He longs after the love and approval of his mother. The results of these exchanges are always fruitless and sad. Sometimes even dangerous.
When Murtagh is learning his letters, he gets distracted making a classic child’s illustration of his family. Wobbly stick figures made with an unsteady hand, wide smiles, scribbled hair, and splatters of ink from overly enthusiastic dips into the inkwell. He presents it proudly to Morzan who smiles at the rendition of the two of them holding hands. Murtagh even took care to draw Morzan’s blue eye as an open circle and his black eye filled in. But his heart sinks when he sees Selena’s smile, and then lower when he sees the vague, dragon shape clearly meant to be his partner.
He would have loved him, he thinks.
But Morzan still kisses him and tells him how proud he is and suggests he put the picture up in his room. Selena wouldn’t like it in theirs. It leaves his mind until Murtagh pulls out the parchment again at dinner. Before Morzan can stop him, he’s presented the drawing to his mother and waits with a painfully hopeful expression. The air goes cold as Selena examines it for a long minute. Then, detached as stone, she folds it, stands, and ignites it over one of the candles.
She looks over at Murtagh’s pained gasp and glares. “You should be focusing on your studies, not this trivial foolishness. Your absentmindedness is a disappointment.” Her voice is like ice. Murtagh sniffles. “Don’t you dare start crying. You need to stop acting like a child.” She manhandles him back into his chair. “Now you will stay there, silent, until you finish your meal. If you start bawling, I swear, I will spank you sore.”
This immediately alarms Morzan. He’d never know her to hit him. But the way that Murtagh flinches at the words assures him that he intimately understands that threat. Inevitably, there were times when Selena was at the estate when Morzan wasn’t and it seems that Morzan’s fears about them were justified. Yet, he keeps his mouth shut at the moment for Murtagh’s sake; another argument right now would likely be at his expense.
The moment Murtagh finishes his meal, however, Morzan rises to escort him back to his room. Once there, he starts sobbing into Morzan’s arms, barely able to articulate his grief over the burned drawing. After a while, Murtagh looks up and whimpers, “Why doesn’t she love me?” and Morzan’s heart just stops. Because how can he answer that? How can he tell him that his mother is cruel, cold, simply doesn’t care about him? How can he break his heart like that?
After a long hesitation, Morzan just tells him that there is more than enough love in his own heart for him, and whenever Murtagh needs it, he’ll be there. It feels woefully inadequate, but Morzan doesn’t know what else to do. He squeezes himself into Murtagh’s child sized bed to comfort him as he sleeps that night without bringing him to his own bed with Selena. He manages to coax Murtagh into making a new drawing the next day by making one with him. This cheers Murtagh significantly, but the incident remains in their memories.
Similar incidents continue to occur until the situation comes to a head violently one night.
Morzan has just returned from a mission from Galbatorix that he did his best to undermine without being too obvious. It was exceedingly difficult, however, and when Morzan finally returns, he wants nothing more than a hot meal and a long sleep. Unfortunately, the king had more plans that needed immediate discussing with Selena, meaning he would get no rest any time soon. The two of them storm into the library, then seal it shut, arguing ferociously. Selena, naturally, has come up with the most ruthless and brutally efficient way to carry out Galbatorix’s will, while Morzan tries to steer the plans in a direction less harmful to the Varden.
They spend several minutes in hot debate when a clatter behind them has them whirling around and drawing their weapons. Morzan sees Murtagh trip over the corner of a bookshelf he had been creeping around, a children’s book peeking through its place clutched in his arms. But before Morzan’s muscles even have the chance to relax, he hears Selena shout, “Kverst!” and he can only watch in horror as the blow takes him full across the back, cleaving him from hip to shoulder.
With Murtagh’s scream still ringing in his ears, he roars, “What have you done?! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!”
“He was eavesdropping! If this information gets out, it could damage the Empire! He needs to be-” Morzan doesn’t wait to hear the rest. He scoops up his son and flees the room. Once he considers them far enough, he sets Murtagh on the ground and starts to heal him. He barely makes any progress before he has to stop, hands shaking as they go cold.
He had expended enormous amounts of energy on his mission and he had no chance to gain it back. His dragon had already gone to the hold to sleep, his energy also drained, so he couldn’t rely on his power. He would die before he could save Murtagh, Morzan realizes chillingly. So, with the last of his strength, he carries Murtagh outside, as far as he can before he collapses in the courtyard. And then he screams.
Morzan screams, cries, wails for help, his agonized keening splitting the night air. Desperately, despairingly, deafeningly, he begs and pleads. In less than a minute Brom is sprinting up, chest heaving, and stops dead at what he sees. Morzan, trembling over the broken body of his son, cheeks drenched in tears and hands drenched in blood. “Please, please, save him, save him-!”
Brom knows this could mean his end; this could expose him for who he truly is, but when Morzan shuffles back, revealing Murtagh crumpled on the ground, all his concerns evaporate. He kneels at his side and starts to heal him, his gedwey ignasia glowing faintly beneath the dye on his hand. He works with single minded focus, casting magic unfalteringly until he can do no more. When his hands start shaking like Morzan’s had, he pulls back, examining the wound.
The horrific thing is far from fully healed, but Murtagh’s chest rises and falls steadily and his life is out of danger. Morzan drops his head onto Brom’s shoulder and whispers, “Thank you... thank you...” sounding profoundly exhausted. “Of course,” Brom answers because it’s true. Despite his initial trepidation, he would never leave Murtagh and Morzan to suffer like that.
Soon though, Morzan lifts Murtagh and staggers back inside with him, leaving Brom alone in the courtyard. The couldn’t risk staying together like that. Brom is left to slowly pick himself off the blood stained cobblestones then make his way back to his cabin. Rest doesn’t come easily after all that.
For the next couple of weeks, Morzan doesn’t come out to see him. Instead, he stays with Murtagh, trying to aid and comfort him as he heals. It’s in these weeks that Brom is contacted about Jeod finding a passage into Uru’baen. Brom knows this requires his immediate attention, but it feels wrong to simply leave Morzan without a word. He lingers on packing as long as he can justify. Then, to his great pleasure, Morzan shows up at his door the last night he intends to stay.
Morzan begins by explaining the full situation with Selena and how Murtagh was injured. Apparently, he has finally managed to chase her away from the estate for the time being, though he doesn’t expect it to last long. Brom breathes a heavy sigh of relief when he tells him that Murtagh will recover, but his voice goes quiet as he says that the scar will stay with him for the rest of his life and that they don’t yet know how it might come to pain him. Brom pauses to examine his features and sees how exhausted and defeated he look. He meets his gaze and some of it eases.
“You saved him. You saved his life. I can never repay you for that.” “Maybe you can.” Brom goes on to explain that something arose that he needs to attend to, and that he has to leave. He leaves the details vague, not out of distrust, but out of fear for what Galbatorix could learn if he realizes Morzan’s betrayal. Morzan accepts his secrecy with an even nod. Then Brom asks, “What do you know about where the dragon eggs are kept?”
Morzan frowns. That’s a tricky topic. Even after being released from his oaths from his True Name changing, the location of the eggs is surrounded by so many wards to prevent its disclosure. After some trial and error, Morzan is able to make a crude map for Brom to see. It’s not perfect, especially considering how labyrinthine the citadel of Uru’baen is, but it serves.
Brom knows that Morzan has probably surmised much of their plans from the question alone, but he hopes it’s not enough for Galbatorix to stop them should he find out through Morzan. Besides, he had to take the risk. Better to ask now than to fumble through Uru’baen in search later. Morzan gives him a weak smile and says, “Stay safe. Don’t be reckless.” Brom smiles back. “You too. And keep him safe as well.” “Always”
They linger together a long time that night. A single goodbye kiss is not enough when they’re both aware they may never see each other again. So they kiss gently for a long time and doze lightly in each other’s arms. They rise a few hours before dawn, when Brom departs and Morzan returns to Murtagh.
When Galbatorix summons Morzan a month later, raging over the theft of one of the eggs, Morzan can barely keep a grin off his face, knowing Brom's plan must have succeeded. When the king sends him after it, though, that takes the edge off his happiness. He can't reclaim it, Brom has to get it to the Varden, but if he fails, Galbatorix would examine his mind to find out why. That would most certainly spell his torture and death. But there’s nothing he can do for now but obey, and if he dies in the end, so be it. He’s found something worth dying for.
Soon after he heads out, however, he’s made aware that Brom doesn’t have the egg at all. Apparently, the plan was only semi successful; the thief did manage to swipe an egg, but then he fled the Varden as well as the Empire. Brom is on the hunt just like he is. Learning this, Morzan commits himself to the search. The egg would do no good in the hands of a renegade. If he could capture it himself, he could turn it over to Brom and ensure its safety with the Varden.
The hunt seems to stretch endlessly. Month after exhausting month go by without capturing the dragon egg. Inevitably, over such a long span of time, Brom and Morzan cross paths occasionally. Jeod is more than suspicious about Morzan, but Brom manages to convince him of his good intentions. If nothing else, the tender look in Brom’s eyes when he talks about Morzan makes Jeod too empathetic to demand that they don’t meet. The encounters are fleeting but meaningful.
Seven long, desperate months pass until Brom, Jeod, and Morzan are able to corner the thief in Gil’ead. The resulting clash is chaotic and vicious. The thief, feral as a cornered wolf, fights with nothing in reserve and Empire soldiers attempt to interfere, unaware of Morzan’s true intentions. All this turns the battle into a roiling mass of confusion with deadly consequences.
A reckless and poorly thought out spell of Brom’s goes awry and hits Morzan’s dragon instead of the intended target. He dies instantly.
Morzan staggers to a halt, as if wounded, but before any of his enemies can take advantage of the situation, he goes savage. For a moment, Brom fears for his life, thinking that Morzan went mad like he did when Saphira died, but it quickly becomes clear that he kept his mind in his grief and rage. Fueled by that, Morzan manages to kill the thief and destroy the soldiers Brom had not already taken care of.
A profound silence falls then.
Brom slowly approaches where Morzan collapsed at the side of his dragon. He says his name softly and Morzan turns, head lowered, and sets the egg he had claimed from the thief on the ground in front of him. “I’m sorry,” Brom whispers, and when Morzan lifts his head, he sees tears streaming down his cheeks.
“He was already dead,” he chokes out. “He died when his Name, his mind, was destroyed, all those years ago.” His chest heaves. “He was already dead. I just- never had the courage to put him out of his misery myself.” He whispers, “It’s not your fault...” A long pause follows, then Morzan says, “Go. Take the egg. Leave me to mourn.”
Brom knows he’s right. He must bring the egg to the Varden immediately. After a brief deliberation, he leans forward to place one, short kiss on Morzan’s lips. He tastes the salt of his tears. “I’m sorry,” he says one more time. It’s the hardest thing Brom has done, to abandon that battlefield with the echoes of Morzan’s grief fading in the distance.
After long, uncounted hours, Morzan’s cloud of pain clears enough for him to consider his path now. Returning to the king would gain him nothing but pain. There is no returning to his life a turncloak spy anymore, not after what he’s done. If he is wise, he would flee the Empire and live alone, outside of civilized rule. But when Morzan rises, he looks West, not East.
It has been seven months since he’s seen Murtagh, the longest he’d ever been without his son. He knows that if he runs, Murtagh will be seized and raised by Galbatorix. The thought nauseates him. He remembers the first time he laid eyes on him and how delicate his hand looked within his own. He remembers how easily he could hurt him. Or perhaps... how well he could protect him. He leaves the body of his dragon with one final goodbye, then takes a horse from Gil’ead and races back to his castle.
Morzan isn’t sure whether he managed to return before the news of his betrayal, but Murtagh has not yet been taken to Uru’baen when he returns. He’s not sure he has ever heard better news. Except, perhaps, hearing that Selena is not there, in Uru’baen herself. Apparently, during his absence, the Black Hand took up doing missions directly from the king. This concerns him, but he has a different priority right now.
Murtagh follows his father gratefully a soon as he gets back. Dutifully restraining his questions, he settles in the saddle of a fresh horse in the stables, and they’re both off within the hour. The journey is arduous on account of Murtagh’s age, injury, and the limited stamina of the horse. Morzan pushes as hard as he dares. For what it’s worth, covering their tracks is much easier when traveling by horse as opposed to dragon, but that thought aches, so Morzan casts it aside.
Murtagh is subdued during their journey; he picks up on his father’s pain and anxiety. Although they have not seen their pursuers, they are most certainly out there. Without any Forsworn left to pursue them, the Ra’zac seem their most likely enemies. For better or for worse, Galbatorix already knew the location of the Varden, information Morzan was privy to, so he knows the way to Farthen Dur.
Morzan tries to assuage Murtagh’s fears when he noticed them, but it’s hard to do under the weight of his own stress. He hadn’t had the chance to recover from the loss of his partner either. The pain and paranoia keep building up inside him. One night, Murtagh approaches him cautiously and asks slowly, “Where is your dragon? Shouldn’t he be coming with us?” Morzan simply starts crying.
Morzan feels enormously guilty, revealing his vulnerability when Murtagh already feels so afraid, but suddenly Murtagh crawls into his lap and hugs him, murmuring, “It’s okay...” He continues to spill out little encouragements and Morzan easily recognizes that Murtagh’s just repeating what he himself has told him when he was upset, but it eases the pain in his heart. To know that his son, who he cares for immensely, cares about him in return, touches him. He knows, then, that even though it will take time, he will recover from all that has happened. He needs to, for Murtagh’s sake, for his dragon’s... and also for his own.
Returning Murtagh’s embrace, he declares how much he loves him, over and over, until they’re both giggling from the silliness of it. Giggles turn to shrieks as Morzan ambushes him with tickles as his tears dry on his cheeks. Morzan sleeps better that night than he had since Gil’ead.
The journey continues to take its toll, however. They see the Ra’zac for the first time the next day, mounted on the Lethrblaka far in the distant sky. They don’t seem to know their location, but their mere proximity causes their desperation to spike. Murtagh buries his head in his coat and Morzan hunches over him protectively. Their stops grow less and less frequent as Farthen Dur grows nearer.
One night in the valley leading to the mountain, this proves not enough. Luckily, from having to work with them for ages, Morzan knows more of the Ra’zac’s capabilities than most. He knows they’re undetectable by magic, so he sets up other precautions. And so, when Murtagh screams in the darkness, a single shout of “Brisingr!” has a huge, unlit bonfire flare to life instantaneously.
The Ra’zac shriek and cower in the sudden light. One drops Murtagh from where it tried to lift him from the ground and Morzan shoves him back, further from harm. With Zar’roc, Morzan, manages to wound that Ra’zac quite badly before it can recover from its shock. The other, however, launches an attack as soon as it regains its wits. The following contest is fast and savage. Only lightly armored, Morzan takes several blows before he can injure it enough to drive it away with its partner.
The only fortunate thing about the conflict is that the Ra’zac had to abandon the Lethrblaka to sneak up on them and would likely have to backtrack to them before they could follow them again. Pausing for nothing, including healing his own wounds, Morzan grabs Murtagh, mounts their horse, and takes off. He feels Murtagh shivering with fear in his arms, but they can stop for nothing now.
The final push is agony. The untreated wounds keep Morzan in constant pain. Their horse froths at the mouth and staggers with increasing frequency. Murtagh grows restless in his terror, squirming, trembling, and crying. All the while the Ra’zac creep closer and closer in the sky closing in on them, pinning them in this dead-end valley. Caving under panic and despair, when Morzan finally begins to think that he’s doomed them both to death with this desperate venture, Brom rides out of the undergrowth to meet them.
Morzan could weep. He’s never been so happy to see someone in his life. Brom’s talking rapidly, saying something about how he got a report that the Ra’zac had been sent on a hunt and were seen closing in on the valley and he had hoped it could be them, but Morzan barely listens. He’s beckoning them, saying something about a faster way to Tronjheim, as Morzan dismounts with Murtagh. He steps forward and Brom cuts off as he presses Murtagh into his arms. He takes him reflexively, but his jaw drops when Morzan steps back. “What...?”
“Please, take him. The Varden is the only place he can be safe now, you know that. Please, keep him safe. For me.” “But you-” “I can’t go with him! It would only put him in more danger! The Varden will never accept me, you know that. You know what they would do with me. He doesn’t need that. And there are many who would use him to get to me; I won’t put him at that risk! There’s nothing left for me... He has to go with you.”
Murtagh doesn’t understand everything he said, but his expression contorts in distress under the dawning realization that he intends to leave him. Murtagh starts to writhe in Brom arms, trying to escape, reaching out and calling for Morzan. Brom keeps him in place, and asks, “What will you do?” Morzan mutters, “Find some place to die, I suppose,” and when Brom sees the defeat in his eyes, his heart breaks.
Morzan takes two more steps back and Murtagh starts fight harder. Tears spill down his cheeks and he thrashes within Brom’s grasp as he starts to beg. “Please-! Please father, you can’t- please- DON’T LEAVE ME!” Brom can’t fathom how, but Morzan keeps their gazes locked despite Murtagh’s heart wrenching screams. "Promise me you'll do this. Promise me you'll protect him." "Of course, but you..." But Morzan has already looked down.
He strokes Murtagh's hair and kisses his forehead with a sad smile. Murtagh snatches his hand fiercely. "Be good, okay? Always remember that I love you." Then he pulls out of his grip despite Murtagh’s best efforts and another scream of “DON’T LEAVE ME!” Morzan turns away. He starts to readjust the saddle on his failing horse, but before he can mount, Brom snaps out of his daze and lunges at him. When he turns Brom fixes a twisted grip in the front of his shirt. Before Morzan can say anything, he asks, “Do you trust me?”
“Yes.” “Then trust me to protect both of you.” He thumps Morzan’s chest slightly with his fist and his eyes blaze. Morzan feels his throat close. “I promise,” Brom declares. Then his expression softens some, into something so painfully fond. “Besides... Your son does not deserve to grow up without his father who loves him so much.” Morzan only realizes the trap after he looks. When he meets Murtagh’s eyes, puffy and red with tears, his resolve fails. He clasps Brom hand over his chest. His lip trembles. “I’m trusting you.”
They reach Tronjheim through a side tunnel. There, Morzan finally has his injuries seen to, and Murtagh gets a well deserved nap.
Then comes the fallout. As Morzan predicted, Ajihad, the recently appointed leader of the Varden, wants him executed. For one thing, very, very few people knew that Morzan had betrayed the Empire to help the Varden, out of fear the information could be learned by a spy. So, the people of the Varden only know him from the crimes he committed in service to the Empire. They would all demand his head. The dwarf king causes another problem. Hrothgar has never loved the dragons or their Riders; he would never allow one of the Forsworn amnesty under Farthen Dur.
Ajihad argues all this and more to Brom over the following days. Morzan had been detained upon his entry to the city and Brom is left to argue his case. He points all the risks he had taken in the past years to inform on the Empire to the Varden, and how he had undermined his own tasks from Galbatorix to weaken the Empire. As the days drag on, he tries changing tactics, suggesting that, after everything he’s done for the Varden, including founding the damn group, that they owe him a debt. Has he not earned some trust and respect here?! Let him have this!
Nothing sways Ajihad. Brom can tell that he actually agrees with many of his arguments, yet he simply doesn’t find them enough. And so, on the last day Ajihad is willing to discuss this before arranging Morzan’s execution, Brom pulls out his trump card. He brings Murtagh.
Now, Brom has always known Murtagh to be a kind and gentle soul, so it shocks him when he starts with a tirade. Murtagh stands up in his chair and berates Ajihad for being mean and stupid. He tells him that he hates him and says a couple of words that Morzan would not have liked. Ajihad takes everything stoic as stone until Murtagh eventually runs out of steam and falls back into his chair.
Then he starts telling stories about his father, everything Morzan would do for him back at the manor, how he would play with him, tell him stories, teach him new things, how he would protect him from Selena, how he helped him when he was hurt, and everything else. As Murtagh shares all the reasons he loves Morzan (interspersed with some insults to Ajihad), Brom is reminded of how he felt watching the two of them after Murtagh was born. How he felt seeing Morzan’s change and the little boy that caused it.
It might not have worked if not for Nasuada. Murtagh reminds Ajihad of her. His daughter is a year younger, but they’re both fierce, loyal, and loving. As he thinks of her, he can’t bring himself to destroy the last family Murtagh has left, even if it is the most strategic thing to do. After a long suffering sigh, Ajihad declares that if he ever has reason to regret this, he’ll pin the entire thing on Brom’s head. “Deal,” Brom agrees immediately.
Ten minutes later, Morzan’s cell opens and he looks up to see Brom standing in the doorway with Murtagh riding on his shoulders. They both wear identical, wide, self satisfied grins. “Hey, guess what?” Brom says.
-
-
For my own sake, I’ll stop there. I’m not sure what I’d do with the rest of the au anyway.
It occurs to me that this could lead directly into a Eragon and Murtagh role swap as well, with Selena having conceived Eragon either with Morzan right before he took off after the egg or with some other man in Uru’baen. Eragon would be raised in the Empire and Murtagh in the Varden and when their dragons hatch, Eragon is the one enslaved, but that’s a whole nother beast. It could also follow more closely to canon with Murtagh eventually being kidnapped and taken to Galbatoix. I like the added angst levels of being forced to fight the people he grew up with, but I don’t know. This is already by far the longest post I’ve written.
