#inheritance cycle x reader

[murtagh-thorn]

Murtagh Realizing You're Not Doing Well & Taking Care of You Headcanons

Murtagh is a very attentive, observant person and clocks that something is off with you immediately. Of course he worries, but also doesn’t want to pry or make you feel smothered, so just silently observes you for a while.

When it’s clear this is more than just a bad day, he starts keeping a more watchful eye on you, doing little things silently here and there to make your life easier. Any chores you were dreading are already done by the time you arrive, any items you need are suddenly waiting on your bed, little trinkets and your favorite foods are appearing here and there, etc.

He starts checking in with you to make sure you’re eating, drinking, and sleeping enough while gently reminding you that you’ve more than earned time to rest. If there are any tasks that are stressing you out, he offers to help or even take care of them for you with no hesitation.

Eventually, when things don’t improve and it’s clear you’re pushing yourself past your limits, he sits the two of you down and opens up about he felt after the battle in the throne room. How exhausted, angry, burned out, and completely drained both he and Thorn were and how it would’ve ended very badly for everyone involved if he didn’t take a break—all this to say, he doesn’t want to see you push yourself so hard that you lose yourself in the process and thinks a break might be a good idea, and why don’t you let him talk to Eragon about it on your behalf?

Eragon of course understands and tells you to take as much time as you need. You’re welcome to continue hanging around the academy without worrying about tasks or to take a trip elsewhere. If you feel you need to get away, Murtagh offers to show you all the cool places he found in his travels with Thorn.

If you opt to stay around the academy, Murtagh says his out of the way cottage is open to you whenever, and he even makes sure his spare bedroom is always prepared if you’re not together yet (or if your relationship is still new). If you are, of course you’re welcome in his room. He gets you all the things you need to relax, saying his book collection is all open to you, and takes care of everything—including cooking you meals that have all the nutrients you need to heal and loves making you tea.

If you need some time away and agree to accompany Murtagh and Thorn on a trip, he’s ecstatic to show you all his favorite places he found. He somehow even makes camping out in the open by the fire relaxing and secretly enjoys having you all to himself.

He seeks Eragon’s help out in learning meditation strategies, breathing techniques, and ways to cope and heal that he learned from the elves. As he’s teaching them to you, it inspires him to take better care of himself as well and it becomes a tradition for the two of you to do many of these things together.

He’s constantly bringing you little gifts, such as flowers he found in a field, your favorite snacks, or even hand-making you little wooden carvings. If he really wants to impress you, he acquires the elves’ help to learn how to make jewelry. The designs are always simple, but you can feel the love and care he put into them and never take them off.

Of course, night flights on Thorn with him are a must (or flying together on your own dragon, if you’re a Rider), usually followed by landing in an out of the way, remote location to just chat, stargaze (he loves astronomy and is pointing out all the constellations to you), snuggle, etc.

He becomes a bit more touchy feely during this time, regardless of where you are in your relationship. If you’re not together yet, they’re very shy, gentle touches to your arm, back, hand, etc. here and there. If it’s early, the touches are a little more frequent and he’s not as afraid to do things like smooth your hair, kiss your knuckles, or pull you into a hug. If you’ve been together for a while, he’s practically attached to you at all times, holding your hand, holding you against him, all the random kisses, lifting you off the ground when he hugs you, etc.

He’ll do whatever it takes to make you feel better, is constantly trying to make you laugh and smile, and always reminding you about how much better his life is with you in it.

[murtagh-thorn]

Not to shameless plug, but I’ve got a Murtagh master list here!

inheritance cycle nation will you pls give me your fic recommendations 🙏🙏

[luna-and-la-estrellas]

ALLERGIES - G.D.H

: ̗̀➛ pairing: grayson hawthorne x reader

: ̗̀➛ genre: fluff

: ̗̀➛ summary: your boyfriend had bought you flowers that contained pollen. being allergic to pollen, you obviously get sick, and feeling guilty, gray is there to take care of you

author's note: i have writer's block so welcome to part three of me trying to get out of it while fighting my inner demons. if you don't have allergies, i envy you (as someone who is allergic to everything but food)

GRAYSON felt terrible. he didn't know that those daisies he bought you contained something you were allergic to. now, due to his mistake, you lied on the bed with pink, watering eyes while sniffling.

the blond boy begun apologizing for what seemed like the twentieth time today, and you murmured, "it's not your fault, gray, it's those stupid flowers..." though, your words didn't quite calm the poor pacing boy.

"libby once sent me recipes to make herbal tea," he said, "i'll make you a cup of tea, maybe that'll help...?" grayson went to make tea, soon coming back up to serve it to you. by then, you sneezed into a tissue.

with care, grayson put the small cup on the bedside table and murmured, "you should really take your medicine." you didn't reply as you used eyedrops, blinking away and hoping that it will reduce the redness of your eyes. you thank him for the tea.

he watched you and felt a pang of guilt once again. not long after, you take tea and your medicine in one go before saying, "gray, do you know what will make me feel better?"

he arched a brow. you said, "if you get into this before and hug me i'm pretty sure i'd feel better." the boy huffed a light laugh before obliging.

you grinned softly in victory as he wrapped his arms around you and pecked your forehead. "how are you feeling, princess?"

"i'm feeling better, maybe you need to keep pecking my forehead and hugging me."

[calebsamor]

❪ ✦ ❫ 𝐑𝐎𝐘𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐘, grayson hawthorne.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: prince!grayson hawthorne × thief!fem! reader.

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐘: sadly, king tobias hawthorne died under mysterious circumstances. no one in the kingdom knows why, nor how, but what they do know: is that the king—instead of giving his grandchildren his inheritance—he gave a small peasant it. avery grambs. the news quickly spread out to the kingdom, and luckily, into a little thief's hands. y/n courts.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: royalty au, fluff, drinking/alcohol use, underage drinking, thievery, stealing, murder, blood and gore, romance, slow burn, opposites (yet similars(?)) attract, enemies to partners to lovers, they both fall so damn hard they can't even see when they started fallin, knife to throat, makining out, jameson hawthorne being jameson hawthorne, mention of death, em*ly laughlin, idk man i could go on in this series, probably actual proper grammar, use of capital letters, probably slow updates

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒: ongoing (chapters are being made in GOOGLE DOCS before posting)

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒: idk man probably a lot

𝐀/𝐍: alr CHAT im gettin my game mode on in here. the inheritance games but royalty au, headcanon by @silly-little-gooses. there will be some jameson x avery, nash x libby, nash x alisa (?), and xander x max in here too SO! also i made the reader like a small little character because im too lazy to make a whole ass character about it Imao

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐀𝐖𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐄. 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: @reminiscentreader @nqds @never-enough-novels @ilyiwdtpyiwmyhmtkys @evaswarner @sc11vb @sophiesonlinediary @starrynightsxo @f4iry-bell @his-littlefox @viivdle @aaron-warner @reyreadersblog @urbanflorals @imaseabear

𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐁𝐎𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐒: none yet!

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐗: none yet.

[where-dreamers-go]

"Here And There" Eragon x Modern! Reader Part Two

(A/N: We’re back to Mount Arngor with sometimes clumsy Modern Reader who was appointed ambassador by Queen Nasuada. Neither Eragon or Reader know Nasuada’s full intentions of sending you there, but it’s definitely a lingering thought. Warnings: Minor language and angst. Word Count: 2,658 words)

Lit lanterns and a memorized path away from you room assisted you in heading for the main areas inside the fortress. Too bad none of those things were able to help you get out at an earlier time. Easy, easy, you told yourself as you reached the last step of a stairway. A relieved and proud smile reached your lips. See? Doable. But did Eragon see that? No. Taking a turn down a passageway, you keep your pace even and quick. You didn’t want to be the last one there. It’s better than arriving hours after everyone else, you reminded yourself. Not that you had done so. I can’t sleep-in much here anyway. Who’d want to? You adjusted the bag’s strap on your shoulder, lightweight for where you were heading on such a clear morning. Voices and sounds carried themselves from other areas of the fortress. Mount Arngor’s more social areas. A reminder of how large the community had become. Some larger than others. Some…altogether surprising.

Close to the ground, a dark shape stepped into your path. Caught off guard, you yelped before realizing what exactly you were seeing. A purple and blue dragon hatchling about the height of a German Shepard, glanced your way and tilted their head. Light danced across their youthful scales almost magically. You exhaled calmly. “You’re cute, you know that?” The hatchling did a small bounce in place. Effectively making your heart melt. “I’ll take that as a yes.” You chuckled and carefully walked around the hatchling. “Have fun today.” With a garble of a response, the dragon hatchling bounded off down the hall you already traveled. At least they give the elves a run for their…well, not money, but, you lightly scratched your ear in thought. A lot of running, I guess. One of the hatchlings did find the food storage the other day. Despite how cute and funny it was, there very well could be serious consequences if a large amount of food had been…destroyed. The community in Arngor still had a ways to go. Every ounce of supplies, tools, and food were important. Resources couldn’t be wasted. Which was why you were lending a hand. Well, a little more than that.

Passing through a wide courtyard and waving to the other ambassador in greeting, you hurried towards the steps that lead further down the mountain. Always so many steps. Your intention? To reach the fields beyond. You wanted to help tend to the crops. I can’t be writing letters for Queen Nasuada and notes for myself all day. Steadily down you went. One step at a time. An easy rhythm and pace as you breathed in the fresh air. Smiling whilst hearing birds chirp and sing in-between many trees. The sluicing of the water container in your bag. And no honking of horns or sirens. No traffic either. Just small dragons lurking—exploring — who-knows-where on the mountain. Just another normal day living on Elëa. Where winter were freezing and summers were hot on many continents. Not that Eragon knew specific details of the world. Not that anyone around you might know that. You weren’t going to bring it up in conversation. Thus far, you hadn’t messed up nor revealed any information you deemed classified. You were not about to start.

Everything’s going pretty darn well. Shades of green was all laid out in front of you. Trees, bushes, and grass in the lively environment. A distant figure with brown hair. Only a few steps away from green—until it wasn’t. The heel of your shoe skidded off of the step you were meant to take. All your weight and momentum followed the pull of gravity. A force you could not see. But you sure as heck tried to best it. One frustrated yelp, a curse, and a broken twig later, you found yourself staring up into the blue sky. “Why?” You questioned to the universe. Sighing, you didn’t bother wondering how your shoe was caught in another bush near you. You only tried tugging yourself out of it. Blur of movement caught your attention. Why? To your great embarrassment, Eragon had rushed over to you. Groaning, you covered your face with both hands just as the Dragon Rider knelt beside your form. “Are you alright?” Eragon asked. “I’m fine,” you nearly groaned again. “I swear I don’t trip over everything.” “This wasn’t a trip.” Eragon said. You felt a pressure around your foot before your shoe was freed from foliage. “It’s an embarrassment,” you murmured. Dropping your hands, you pushed yourself to sit up. How could you even meet his gaze? Once again you were seen accidentally hurting yourself, however mildly. Severely embarrassing. All in front of him. “It’s a rarity,” he claimed. “Huh?” You gaze snapped up to his as confusion settled over you. “It’s rare that anyone who should fall as you did…not be injured.” Eragon clarified before grabbing your hands and pulling you to your feet in one smooth motion. If you didn’t notice the heat on your neck before, you definitely felt it rush across your skin then. It refused to fade even as Eragon released your hands. The Dragon Rider offered you a small smile. “Thank you,” you said before brushing your hands over your clothes. “You’re welcome.” He offered your bag, held up by two fingers. You sighed. Eragon only smiled more as you grabbed your bag. “Are you still to join us?” “And probably trip into the soil? Sure.” You shrugged, not sure if you were entirely kidding. There was no telling what would happen every second of the day. “That might be the faster way to tend to the crops,” he quipped. You openly gawked at him. Smile still present, the Dragon Rider wandered in the direction of the tended land. Did he just…? Oh, that’s not fair. You narrowed your eyes lightheartedly. Him and his cute, fluffy hair. You paused mid-step and patted your head. Okay. Good. No leaves.

. . .

The afternoon sun shone brightly across the fields as they were being tended to. A light breeze tickled nearby trees. Pleasant temperatures for time spent outside. They look so similar, you thought after squinting up at the sun. Not for more than half a second, mind you. Not a cloud in the sky. Even with dirty hands and shoes, you were happy with your decision to help out. Some amongst you sang between plants while others swapped stories. A content community. “How’s the weather?” Eragon asked with a growing smirk. A playful Dragon Rider kneeling beside a healthy sprout. Brown eyes watching you. It took a second for you to recognize his double meaning. The inside joke. “Fine.” You tossed a leaf his way, partially successful as it almost reached him. “How are the earthworms?” You countered and tossed weed aside. “Fairing well,” Eragon answered with a simple nod, “I haven’t received any complaints.” “Oh.” “Why?” He exaggerated his tone. “Did you hear anything?” Turning your head, you snickered into your shoulder. Fully prepared for questions, formal talk, and even the occasional sass; you were no where near ready for Eragon joking with you. It warmed your heart never the less. For you knew he was content. “You’re a trip, you know that?” You wagged an index finger at him. “A trip?” Oh, right. You straightened to your full height, ready to explain. “Are you blaming me for your tumbles down stairs?” He challenged with a twinkle of mischief in his eyes and not moving away from the green plant. Ill-prepared for his playfulness indeed. Looking at Eragon, truly looking at him, made the entire situation seem dreamlike. The young man was working the soil and his brown eyes appeared golden in sunlight. All bright, content, and living as if the load on his shoulders wasn’t too heavy to bare. How could he hide so much of his worries and past behind a smile you could hardly remember reading of? What made him open up in this way? You swallowed. Why did Nasuada want to keep tabs on finer details of Eragon’s new home? Tilting your head slightly, you answered the Rider. “I wouldn’t blame the person who has actually saved me from falling forward. I might be clumsy at times, but I’m not foolish. And you’re —” His eyebrows rose expectantly. You cleared your throat and stepped over to pull out more weeds. “You’re also not foolish.” Your gaze set on your task. After a moment, you half thought he might have something to add, but the banter ended as fast as it started. Way to compliment him, you sassed yourself.

. . .

Hours after the sun had set in the West and the people of Mount Arngor were relaxing for the night, you sat in your usual seat away from the fire. Close enough for conversation or peace. A group of urgals sat together enjoying the rest after a long day. No sight of any elves or dragons. Some dwarves off in a corner were deep in conversation with the other ambassador sent by Queen Nasuada. Rolling your shoulders, you stretched out your aching muscles. All that pulling and bending down, you thought, and I forgot how many stairs between the fields and my room. I better sleep like a rock tonight. You rubbed your knuckle into the side of your thigh. “This must be why leg day is a thing,” you muttered. “I’m surprised.” Jolting in your seat, you peered to your side to see the leader of Mount Arngor. “Surprised?” “You’re not writing.” Eragon pulled up a chair beside you. “Oh.” “I presumed you wrote everyday.” “I do.” You sat up straighter. “Maybe not so often each day.” He adjusted himself in the seat and let out a short chuckle. “I don’t see how you or anyone can write so often without tiring. My wrist grows sore with speaking of writing.” “Try shaking your hands…like if they’re wet. Rubbing circles into your hand or wrist kind of helps.” His eyebrows pinched together. “Do you know healing as well?” “Don’t quote me on anything. Some of it’s from experience and other stuff I don’t remember if I learned it or read something somewhere.” “Did you have much access to knowledge where you’re from?” His brown eyes bore into you with growing curiosity. Question time. Lounging back a bit, you answered, “More than I knew what to do with and more than I could ever completely read.” Confusion and awe flashed across his features. He likely expected a simple answer. Hands flexing on his lap, he did not add a response. You smiled. “There are some amazing libraries, books from floor to ceiling, that… I really wish I could have at least seen in person.” Your gaze fell to the floor, images of beautifully intricately designed libraries flashing through your mind like a smooth slideshow. The calm and comfortably warm atmosphere slowly brought you into a haze of memories. Borrowing books with a list of names inside the cover, navigating aisles to find a newly released title, saving images similar to how you imagined fantastical lands, and scrolling for hours and hours. How often did you seek out printed language?

“What was your home like?” Memories and the touch of nostalgia fizzled away. Crap. Your eyes refocused and you took a glance at Eragon. His focus on you made the panic start. Having the Dragon Rider’s focus was much more intense than his fleeting attention. Yet you were prepared. Somewhat. Time to yourself allowed you to imagine many possible encounters, especially with Eragon Shadeslayer. “Before the Queen assigned me to this role?” You asked, trying to give yourself more time to think and consider your next words carefully. “Yes,” he nodded. “Where you spent your childhood.” Indoors and outdoors, you mentally sassed. “Busy people,” you shrugged, “working adults, homework.” Your lip curled back at the thought of the last word. “Living from one day to the next and hope it’s better or easier.” “Were there any…magicians where you lived?” You nearly snorted. “No.” Nodding slowly, Eragon related to you a detail about his home. “There wasn’t a magician in Carvahall either. My home.” He clarified and shifted in his seat. “Not as the bigger cities.” You nodded even while very well knowing of his past. Knowing what information the young man withheld of an old bearded man he once knew. Brown eyes looked to you again. “Was there no on who could use magic where you’re from? You had spoke of this place being different for you. Is this the first time you’ve seen magic? Can you tell me of any of it?” “Depends on how you classify magic.” Bewilderment covered his fair face. “Classify?” Shifting in the chair, you faced him fully. “Back home there are magic tricks, which is usually a slight of hand. Then there’s the feeling that something could be described as magical, but most likely is nowhere near what say a dragon or Dragon Rider could do.” Eragon nodded along, “Just a word.” “Exactly, like wondrous. And there’s events or actions that maybe no one has an explanation for,” you shrugged again. He sat back. “You handle being an ambassador here as if you had years of training. As if everyone and all of Arngor was knowledge given to you.” “Knowledge, the truth, of this place isn’t common knowledge for anyone in Alagaësia. I think it’s better that way.” You swallowed uneasily.

You knew well what the Dragon Rider could be thinking. He had complimented you not long ago on your role while he mistook your questions as doubt in your abilities. His current words still reflected a sort of admiration of your adjustability to new situations. However, you knew in your gut his subconscious was wary of something. But he wouldn’t genuinely be so friendly if he suspected me of any deceit. Your fingers intertwined tightly on your lap. “I feel like you want to ask me something,” you whispered. “I have a great deal of questions.” “I know.” You kept your voice low. “But I can’t answer everything.” “Even if you wanted to tell me?” The Rider’s voice lowered as your own, keeping the conversation as private as possible without the use of a spell. Gaze flicking to your own lap, you heard Eragon hum an affirmative. At least he won’t push. “She only gave me an overview of what I should expect here. I don’t know what specific details she has of this place,” you added even softer. “I still don’t see why two ambassadors are necessary.” Eragon’s gaze hardened in thought. “But I’m grateful to be here. Everyone has been nothing but kind and welcoming.” “Your words are appreciated.” Said Eragon as he came back to himself. “As is your kindness.” Any response was caught in your throat as you peered into his brown eyes. Swallowing proved mildly difficult.

A whole person with a past, personality, and dreams for the future were behind that gaze. Not just words in a story. Eragon was real. The whole of Elëa with Alagaësia was very real. You were sitting in it with less than an arm’s length away from a Dragon Rider. One you held dear to your heart. But you feared him learning the extent of what you knew. What you felt. Yet keeping a distance from Eragon was not what he appeared to have in mind. Jokes and questions increasing by the day. A warmth filled your chest and you tore your gaze from him.

“It’s late,” you murmured and stood from the chair. “Good night.” “Good night.” Eragon responded quietly, watching you go. The sound of his voice repeated in your mind as you made your way up to your room. So many darn steps. So many darn cute smiles given to you. You clutched at your chest. What am I doing?

~~~

(If you love my writings and want to support me, I have a Ko-Fi where you can buy me a coffee. I would be eternally grateful. Best wishes and happy reading.)

~~ DreamerDragon Tags: Inheritance Cycle Tags: @shewhobreathesfire @

Let me know if you would like to be tagged in insert readers, either through replies, ask, or message.

[ivorydragoness44]

Murtagh Morzansson x gn!Reader: Wholesome

Word Count: 528 Warnings/Notes: mentions of baking bread and eating it, can be viewed as an established relationship, and Murtagh absolutely losing his table manners because he loves the food so much.

Summary: Murtagh shows up and unexpectedly, to him, gets to enjoy a small snack with a friend.

~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~

The smell of hot, freshly baked bread wafted through the air. It was particularly delicious that morning. The time since you had last baked even one loaf had been far too long.

Taking a deep breath in, you stuttered out a sigh as the ground quaked beneath your feet. A dragon had landed nearby, no doubt. And as you glanced out the open window, you saw ruby scales pass by. Thorn. In a matter of moments, a rhythmic knock sounded on the front door. “Thorn,” you barely held back a laugh, “please tell Murtagh that he can come inside. The door is unlocked.” It was not often, at all, that you would call out to a dragon through a window.

Putting a few kitchen items away while you waited, the dragon rider entered the house. “Oh,” Murtagh blinked, struck by the unseen wall of scent permeating throughout your home. “You’ve been busy, I see,” he smiled, walking closer. His eyes inspected every surface covered with fresh loaves and buns. “I have,” you nodded kindly. “Have you come with your appetite, or did you lose it on the flight over?” The corner of his mouth pulled up. “I think I left it here for safekeeping.” “You would.” Laughing, you shared a happy grin with him before waving him over to the table.

The pair of you sat at the small table, Murtagh swiftly pulling out a chair for you before you had the chance to reach for it yourself. “Honestly, Murtagh,” you said with a teasing smile, “everyone here combined could not measure up to your manners; so courtly.” “I think you may be exaggerating a little,” he said, smoothing out his tunic as he sat down. There came a pause about him however, when his eyes caught sight of two empty plates. Convenient. “You were…expecting someone?” “You, of course.” Gingerly, you set a plate in front of each of you, and placed a warm round bun on the dish-ware. “As if I would spontaneously treat anyone else.” Murtagh’s gaze met the plate. A faint rosy tint dusting his cheeks. “For that, I am most grateful.”

While you tended to your own little morsel, adding a small slice of butter, you heard a deep sigh off to your side. You peeked over to see that Murtagh’s eyes were momentarily closed. He chewed on the piece of bread heartily. It was as if he had not eaten anything half as good in ages. You giggled at the sight. “Murtagh?” The young man glanced up with eyes open wider than usual. There was a softness, a childlike wonder. “Is everything all right?” “Oh, yes,” he said with a mouth full of food. “This is delightful.” A laugh continued to bubble out of you at the sight of him. “Thank you. I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.” “No,” he shook his head promptly, “thank you.” “Would you like to stay for dinner? I know it’s hours away, but”— “I’d love to,” he blurted out, all sense of manners and reason completely vanishing.

If that was his reaction to a simple bread, you could only imagine an entire dinner passing his lips.

~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~

Thank you for reading!

[writinginatree]

Soft Murtagh fluff for @murtagh-thorn. I hope everything goes well tomorrow/(today?)!!🫂🩷

The night is still and quiet, disturbed by nothing but the soft snores of the red dragon behind you. Tired from the day's long flight, he fell asleep what must have been two hours ago, while Murtagh and you sat by the fire and talked — of your fears and dreams, the uncertainty of the future and what the coming days might bring. Murtagh had steered your thoughts away from the darker paths they were wont to take, eventually distracting you with his favorite book of poetry. Reciting poem after poem to you, he'd even gotten you to read a few out loud yourself, until finally both of you grew too weary to keep your eyes open wide enough to read.

Now the both of you are settling down too, cuddling close in the ample space between Thorn's belly and his legs. Murtagh's arm is thrown over your waist, his heartbeat a steady lullaby in your ear.

You feel him press a kiss to the top of your head. "Sleep, my dear. Everything will be alright. The future may be uncertain and frightening at times, but I will be with you."

"Always?"

"Always," he promises. "Wherever you go, whatever you do, I'll be there by your side. No matter what."

You feel around for his hand in the dark, lacing your fingers with his when you find it. "Thank you, Murtagh."

He returns the grateful squeeze you give his hand, the arm around your waist holding you just a little tighter, like he wants to emphasize he'll never let you go. "Of course."

[shewhobreathesfire]

Hello! I've started rereading the Eragon books because of the new book that came out, and I love him so much

So here are some Eragon x reader ideas you could do if you want:

Eragon and Dragon Rider reader meeting and being overjoyed at seeing another dragon/rider for the first time

Reader is undergoing the same transformation as Eragon at the Blood-Oath Celebration, she gets overwhelmed, and he comforts her

The two of them read each other's minds for the first time

Eragon falls out of love with Arya and in love with reader in a manner similar to Laurie, Jo and Amy from Little Women

(You don't have to do any of these, though, I just thought it'd be nice)

Oh man, I haven't written anything in ages, I really should! I have 3 fanfics currently waiting on me since like... 2021?

I'll have a think on these, thank you sm!

[dreamlandcreations]

I'm so happy you're reading the Murtagh book!! I swear every time I open one of the Inheritance series books I get transported back to when I was 11, it's such a good feeling 😊

If you are planning on writing something about him I would most definitely die of happiness. No pressure of course, there's just so little out there for him and he and Thorn deserve the world.

I was so happy to see gifs and mentions of him pop up on my dash I had to run over and say something. Hope you're having a good day!! ❤️❤️❤️

Hi! 🤗

I'm really slow with this one tbh 🙈 I get angry every time my poor baby is hurt(ing himself) and I have to stop for a while 🙈

SAME! I started to think what were my faves back then, and now my bookshelves are a mess bc I started to look but I got sidetracked and decided to reorganize 🙈🙈🙈

I have at least one fic in me... I think... or rather one base idea but I've got mini ideas as I get further into the book and the mini ideas are starting to get contradicting so maybe there's gonna be more here when I finish it ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Also Thorn is such a kitten he deserves his own little blurb 🥺🥰

Anyway, I'm making GIFs now bc there are not enough of them on here! 😤

Thank you for dropping in, hope you have a good day too 🥰

[murtagh-thorn]

Murtagh Taking Care of You When Sick

For @ivorydragoness44! Sorry this took so long, but I hope you enjoy!

Please be aware that I haven't read Murtagh's book yet (hopefully will start it soon), so no spoilers please!

You and your dragon knew staying out in the storm was a bad idea, but you both had a job to do and people to save, so you were gonna get it done dammit. But what started as a sprinkle ended with a bolt of lightning striking an already precarious-looking tree right next to you. The edge knocked you hard enough to cause damage, but luckily nothing that wouldn’t heal over time.

Your dragon had rushed you back to Eragon’s academy where he and Murtagh were anxiously waiting. Murtagh’s face paled once he saw your state and he immediately rushed forward to help, insisting on carrying you to the healers’ wing of campus.

Although he doesn’t take over the situation, he hovers close by as you recover, ever ready to answer questions for you during coughing fits, get you tea, rearrange your pillows, etc.

At first, he’s terrified of being in the way or annoying you, so hangs back so much that sometimes you don’t even realize he’s there until you need something and he suddenly materializes. Of course, if you sent him away he would go, but would be sad, worried, and thinking of you the entire time, pacing back and forth in his quarters so much that Thorn starts to tease him about wearing a hole in the floor.

Once you assure him his presence is welcome and a relief, he’s more than happy to stay. While you’re still in the healers’ wing, Thorn keeps your dragon company and Murtagh makes sure to bring you the good meals from the mess hall versus the quick, on-hand “slop” they have there.

If you’re shaken up by your experience, he reminds you that you’re safe now and he’ll make sure no harm will come to you.

Of course while he thinks you’re asleep, you feel him hold and stroke your hand many times, as well as brush some hair away from your eyes. If you’re lucky, you might even catch him pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles or forehead.

A few times while you’re awake, his hand gently strokes your face—which he of course blows off as “just checking for a fever” with the reddest face you’ve ever seen before he mutters something about getting you more tea and disappearing.

Once you’ve been discharged to your own quarters, Murtagh of course is still ready to be at your beck and call, insisting it’s even more important that someone is around to help you now that the healers aren’t constantly available to you.

He’s still making you tea, bringing you food (and in some cases, even making soup or stew for you if the mess isn’t offering what you’re craving), stoking your fire as needed, and even helping with things like cleaning and laundry.

Now that he’s helping Eragon run his academy, he does have to leave for hours at a time to complete his tasks. But he always checks on you on the way back to his own quarters.

He’s very, very insistent that you eat and drink enough and is constantly checking in with your dragon to confirm that you are. Otherwise, it’s a homemade meal delivered straight to your doorstep.

If you’re the type that prefers company while you eat, he’ll gladly bring his meals to your quarters with you. Otherwise, you find little notes on your delivered meals saying to get well soon or some joke that always makes you laugh.

Once you’re well enough to be out and about again, he tries to hide how elated he is. But even if you’re oblivious, his dragon and those who know him well are not. He’s glued to your side as much as he can be for the next few days to make sure you’re actually better and if you even slightly cough or sniffle, he’s asking if you need anything.

He may or may not develop a little evening tea time ritual with you whenever you two have a free moment now because he enjoyed making it for you so much.

[ivorydragoness44]

Be shameless. Share your work! ✨

I'll just toss my Murtagh fanfic masterlist and Imagines masterlist in here too.

inheritance cycle nation will you pls give me your fic recommendations 🙏🙏

[where-dreamers-go]

If requests are open and you don't mind, could I have Murtagh, Roran, Arya and/or Eragon's reaction to a chubby!SO being oblivious to their advances?

Hi there! Here on this blog, I always have whether or not requests are open right in the bio. :)

~~~

Murtagh had returned to your home. Finally. By dragon magic and fire — he missed you. To be comfortable in an environment enough to discard his boots upon entry was still new for the Dragon Rider. Yet he would never complain. Definitely not. He had another reason never to complain.

There, curled up in bed with a book was no one other than his love, you. Nose deep in the book even as Murtagh walked closer.

“You’re early,” you smiled, eyes peering up at him.

“I have my reasons.” He pressed his lips to your cheek, softer than his own. He kissed your shoulder then, hidden by a night shirt.

“Tired?”

“Not yet.”

You turned a page and asked, “Did you want to read with me?”

“Perhaps later?” Murtagh kissed your shoulder again while letting his fingers roam the curves of your hip and thigh. “We could do something else?”

“We could paint.” You suggested, looking over to him.

A frown creased his features.

“What? I liked your last painting. You could be an artist too, Murtagh.”

Sighing, Murtagh flopped onto the bed.

“What’s the matter?” You set the book aside to comb your fingers through his dark locks.

“Nothing…”

. . .

Eragon wiped the sweat from his brow. A common occurrence while tending the crops. More so that he had finished what needed doing. It had been a long morning.

Satisfied, the Dragon Rider stretched his arms over his head. He would do well with a short rest. Some time to himself if he could.

Brown eyes caught sight of his partner sitting under the shade of a tree. His companion and love who he would do practically anything for.

Eragon could rest later.

Walking up to his beloved, he was greeted by your soft smile. A wonderful sight.

“All finished?” You asked, handing over a container of water.

“Finished working in the soil? Yes.” Eragon swallowed a generous amount of water. “Thank you. I needed a drink.”

“You might also need to wash up.”

He hummed briefly in acknowledgement and promptly sat down beside you. Brown eyes roamed over your content expression and down your curves in affection. Still hot from work, Eragon felt a growing excitement in his belly. A thought lingering in passion.

“Are you busy?” Eragon inquired, index finger tracing around your wrist. “You could use water as well.”

“I’m enjoying the breeze.” You stated and closed your eyes.

Leaning in, Eragon lightly pressed his lips to the contour of your ear. “You could enjoy the water,” he whispered.

“I wasn’t digging out weeds and playing with earthworms.”

He nipped your ear.

“Hey.”

“I need to bathe and I think,” Eragon placed his other hand on your thigh, “you should keep me company.”

“You’ve taken baths by yourself before.” You opened your eyes and turned to give him a quizzical look. “Do you need me to test the temperature again?”

Moving his hands to his lap, the Dragon Rider sighed, defeated.

“No.” He pulled at an innocent blade of grass.

“Then go bathe.” You patted his knee.

“Fine.” Eragon pouted.

. . .

I feel like Roran might actually say something or be much more forward. I don’t know how, but he might.

Arya… I don’t really know how she’d react, maybe just really look at her partner. Studying them or something.

~~~

(If you love my writings and want to support me, I have a Ko-Fi where you can buy me a coffee. I would be eternally grateful.

Best wishes and happy reading.)

~~~~~

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Inheritance Cycle Tags: @shewhobreathesfire @emburbaguette

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[ivorydragoness44]

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Murtagh Morzansson x gn!Reader: Wholesome

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[murtagh-thorn]

For everyone who’s been interacting with the annoying amount of murtagh thoughts/content I’ve been posting lately 😅 (I’m a normal, functioning adult irl, I swear lol)

hello beloveds ☺️

[luminnara]

Protector | Feyd-Rautha x reader

ANON REQUEST: your marriage to Feyd-Rautha is an arranged one, and your only task is to provide an heir. When you finally become pregnant, your new husband suddenly grows obsessed with you—but does he care about you, or is he simply protective of his progeny?

Warnings: pregnancy, labor, and related talk; canon typical violence

MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

Your marriage was one born out of duty, not love. You couldn’t even call it a marriage of convenience; there was nothing convenient about leaving your homeworld and traveling across an entire galaxy to marry someone you had never even met before. Yes, the Houses had agreed beforehand that you were to marry Feyd-Rautha, the Na-Baron of House Harkonnen, and immediately after the deal had been struck you had seen his face and read his writing, but you hadn’t met him until your wedding day.

You had chastised yourself for thinking it could be like the fairytales of Ancient Earth. You, a princess, your betrothed a handsome prince…in the stories of your childhood, he would have whisked you away, off to a great, shining palace full of magical wonders, and you would have lived happily ever after. Instead, your prince had proved to be disinterested in you, busying himself with his arena and his concubines, ignoring you most of the day. The Harkonnen fortress did not shine, nor did it hold any great wonders, and Giedi Prime felt far from magical, with its harsh black sun and polluted landscape.

After your vows, you had naively thought your wedding night would be full of romance. Perhaps you had been holding onto hope as a means to protect yourself, clinging to optimism to distract yourself from your harsh, sad reality. You had been all too eager to shed your dress and veil in Feyd-Rautha’s living quarters, though had not expected them to be ruined by his blade, and you had not expected him to greedily conquer you as if it were yet another battle in the arena. He had slept next to you that night, but had made it painfully obvious that he had no interest in holding you or even touching you, keeping far to his side of the bed while you remained far to yours. In the morning, you had awoken alone, and had realized that it was the beginning of a long and lonely road on your new planet.

Everyone expected an heir. That was the entire point of this marriage, a legitimate heir for the Harkonnen line. Anyone else could have done it—you were of fine breeding, yes, but any of the other Houses could have offered up a daughter to suffer at Feyd-Rautha’s side. Why it had to be you surely came down to the only things powerful men seemed to care about—money and spice. An allegiance with House Harkonnen protected your family, and your small share of spice harvesters on Arrakis added yet another drop into their vast bucket and one less smuggling operation to worry about. Your parents were happy. Baron Vladimir Harkonnen was happy.

And you were miserable.

Two months after your wedding, your monthly cycle continued as normal, and you were forced to shamefully inform the na-Baron. After an annoyed sound and a grimace, he bent you over the nearest table and took you for a second time, leaving you to clean yourself up and cry at your husband’s callousness. You didn’t know why he couldn’t bring himself to care. You supposed he already had everything he could possibly want; wealth, concubines, a throne to inherit…you brought nothing of real value to him, save for the ability to produce an heir.

Time passed, and it became clear that Feyd-Rautha would have to touch you more than once a month if he was to have any hope of fathering a child. You cursed yourself for your apparent inability to conceive—fertility had been one of your parents’ selling points when negotiating with the Baron, and now, you couldn’t even do the one thing that was expected of you. It brought you to tears every night, the stress of being reduced to this and yet still being unable to perform your task. It was maddening, though you knew you were hardly the first woman to find yourself in such a situation. You did worry, however, that you may have been the weakest.

One evening, as Feyd performed his husbandly duties, he noticed a tear slipping down your cheek and paused. You felt a rough hand cup the side of your face and opened your eyes to find your husband staring at you with dark eyes, his head tilted to suggest he was curious.

“Tears?” He asked in his raspy voice that was still so alien to you.

“My apologies, na-Baron,” you looked away from him.

“You are crying.”

You stifled an annoyed sigh. “Yes.”

“Why?”

“Do not worry yourself with me, husband.” You said.

“Tell me.”

This was perhaps the longest conversation you had had since marrying him, and part of you didn’t want it to end. You looked at him once more, finding him still watching you with that unwavering, predatory gaze, and another tear rolled down your cheek and onto his hand.

“I am sorry I have not given you a child.” You whispered.

“Then let me put one into you.”

His tone sent a chill down your spine, frightening and exciting you all at once. That night, Feyd-Rautha did not let you sleep, shocking you with his determination. It was simply because the sooner you conceived, the sooner he could return to his own concerns, you reasoned.

Sure enough, your period did not arrive when expected, nor did the next. A medical test confirmed what you already knew—you were pregnant, with Feyd-Rautha’s child. A Harkonnen child, who would grow up to be just as ruthless and savage as its father, you thought.

Upon receiving the positive result, you immediately set off to tell the na-Baron. He should not be made to wait; you wanted him to know that the entire point of your union was finally achieved, and that you could both go back to ignoring each other as usual. As you walked, you had the worrying thought that he may not even keep you alive after the delivery.

“Na-Baron,” you addressed him upon finding him in his armory.

He looked up from the blade he was sharpening. “Wife.”

“I bring news,” you said, folding your hands in front of yourself.

“Then tell me, before I grow bored of waiting.” He returned to the hunting knife, looking away from you once more.

“I am with child.”

You watched as Feyd-Rautha paused, tilting his head to look at you. “My child?”

“Yes. Who else could it possibly belong to?” You asked, exasperated. “The physicians confirmed it just now. I wanted you to be the first to know.”

He nodded slowly, looking back at the knife in his hand as he thought. “I see.”

Whatever hopes you had once had for him to suddenly flip his entire personality at the news were quickly dashed by his lack of emotion. You left him there, a hand over your mouth as you tried not to cry, returning to your bed to be alone once more.

-0-

In those earlier days of pregnancy, you were often ill, sprinting from bed to the wash basin nearly every day to be sick. Usually, you were alone; Feyd-Rautha rose early, spending his mornings training and sometimes killing his instructors. Whenever that happened, he would come back, wearing blood and a grin on his face as if he had just won some great contest.

Today, however, he was enjoying a rare occasion of sleeping in. He had begun spending his nights in the center of the bed, crowding you as you attempted to stay away from him. One morning you had even woken up to find his arm throne over you, his body closer than ever. Now, he was sleeping, and you would have been content to let him remain there were you not busy launching yourself over him as you ran to the adjoining wash room.

You missed the way your husband sat up, eyes wide and frenzied as he pulled a dagger from beneath the pillows. When he found the room to be empty and free of danger, he grew confused…until he heard your retching in the next room, and slipped out of bed.

“Wife?” He asked from the doorway.

“What?” You groaned, leaning your cheek on the cool basin.

“…are you alright?”

You sighed. “No, na-Baron, I am not. I mean…I am, I just…”

“You are sick,” he pointed out.

It took every bit of willpower you possessed to swallow down the part of you that desperately wanted to throttle him. “Yes. I am. It’s the pregnancy, the pills from the doctors haven’t been working—“

“This has happened before?” He interrupted.

“Most days, yes,” you felt another wave of nausea coming over you and hunched your shoulders, preparing for the worst.

You never expected to feel a cool hand brushing your hair away from your forehead, nor the feeling of your husband’s chest against your back as he held you.

“Harkonnen women don’t have this problem,” he commented as he held your hair.

It was the least helpful statement he possibly could have made as you vomited once more, and yet it was also quite possibly the best.

“If Harkonnen women have no hair, then what do you pull?” You asked wryly, too ill and too exhausted to hold yourself back.

Feyd-Rautha stared you, unblinking, before a smirk found its way onto his lips. “If you are feeling brave, perhaps I will show you one day.”

You let out a laugh as the nausea ebbed, leaning back against him. “Perhaps one day I will finally stop seeing my lunch so many times, and then you can regale me.”

-0-

Your sickness faded as your pregnancy progressed, thankfully, but Feyd-Rautha’s company did not. By the time you were beginning to truly show, he was refusing to leave you alone, demanding your presence wherever he went. As a result, you sat in on many a sparring session, and he made up his mind to abandon the arena until after the baby was born. His sudden change in attitude was shocking; he had never paid so much attention to anything before, and now, his hands were constantly on you.

“I must keep you safe,” he had said when you first asked about it, and had acted as if it were the most obvious thing in the universe.

You assumed he was protective due to the baby, the precious new heir to the Harkonnen throne. As its vessel, you were afforded some luxuries, but you fully expected that to change after the birth. For now, though, you were content to receive any and all attention your husband saw fit to pay you.

“That went well,” you said one day after the doctor examined you.

“He should not have touched you like that.” Feyd-Rautha growled.

“What do you mean? He’s a doctor,” you laughed, somewhat nervously.

“I did not like it.” His voice was tense.

“I could tell.” You grumbled, dropping your happy façade. He had nearly chased the doctor out of the room, hunting knife in hand. “Examinations are unavoidable, I’m afraid.”

“No more.”

“But—“

“No more strangers touching you.”

"Doctors help," you protested. "Don't you want your child to be healthy?"

At that, Feyd paused in thought. "...You may have a Harkonnen midwife."

"Because a Harkonnen doctor is too much?" You asked dryly.

He glared at you briefly before looking away towards the door. "Come."

You audibly groaned, one hand on your lower back. "Na-Baron, I am tired. I wish to retire to bed."

He looked back at you, and you caught an expression of distress on his face. "I need to train."

"You train every day."

"Yes." he said it as if it were obvious, but something in his tone suggested more; he made it sound urgent, as if it were something he had to do daily, and missing a single session would be disastrous. "Come."

You heaved a sigh and followed him.

-0-

In the months that followed, your unborn child grew, as did your body. You found yourself becoming large and bloated, your gait slowing as your flexibility waned. New maternity gowns were brought to you, an interesting mix of styles--the flowing, heavy garments of your homeworld meeting the simple, stark aesthetics of Giedi Prime. You found them strange, but at that point, you really didn't care; you would have walked around naked if no one would have stopped you. You spent your days feeling uncomfortable and awkward, with swollen feet and a sore lumbar region. Harkonnen servants brought whatever you needed, and your husband ensured--no, demanded--that all of your food be tasted by someone else while you watched so that there could be no chance of poison passing between your lips.

You wondered if this was simply some aspect of Harkonnen culture that the other Houses weren't aware of or never cared to talk about. Perhaps on a planet as harsh and toxic as Giedi Prime, infertility and infant mortality were more commonplace than the rest of the known universe. Perhaps this possessiveness was common among Harkonnen men, if conception was more difficult for their people.

Whether your theory was correct or not, Feyd-Rautha had certainly become even more attached to you. Not a morning went by when he wasn’t there next to you in bed, and as of late, he had begun waking you up by reminding you exactly how you had ended up like this in the first place. Before your pregnancy, he had acted as though bedding you were a boorish duty he had no choice but to perform; now that you were heavy with child, however, he was more than interested in you physically, constantly touching you with those rough, murderous hands.

You enjoyed the attention, and you enjoyed the way he squeezed and massaged you with surprising gentleness. He didn’t want to break you, you supposed, not right now; after the child arrived, perhaps, but not now. That was a grim thought, and one you had often—what was to come of your after the birth? Would Feyd-Rautha want more children, in case this one died some horrible, brutal, Harkonnen death? Or would you be disposed of, no longer needed after his legacy was secured?

You tried not to dwell on it.

One morning, you roused on your own, without Feyd’s interference. Wondering if he was even still there, you reached out to the side, feeling for him—and you nearly jumped when you felt bare flesh beneath your hand. When you rolled onto your back with considerable effort and turned your head to the side, you saw that your husband was there, still sleeping, and that what you had felt was his exposed chest.

You took the moment to look at him, really look at him. He seemed so peaceful like this, when he wasn’t fighting and killing. You had seen him take lives so quickly that his victims hadn’t even known they had died, and you had wondered how someone could be so dismissive of those around them. The first time you had watched your husband slit a throat, you had nearly vomited, and he had found your revulsion amusing; the most recent, however, you had simply sighed and looked away. You were desensitized, it seemed, just like he was, and now, you slept just as easily after watching him commit horrendous acts of violence as he did now.

Feyd-Rautha was handsome as far as Harkonnens went. His skin was smooth like marble, free of the scars and bruises one might expect to see on a warrior. His face, usually so harsh during the waking hours, was relaxed now, and you realized he was beautiful. You couldn’t keep yourself from brushing your fingers over his lips and feeling how surprisingly soft they were, though in a way, this felt wrong. Feyd-Rautha didn’t strike you as the kind of person who would allow this sort of touch, but when would you have this opportunity again? He always rose first in the morning and slept last at night. You never caught him with his guard down, and you kept your hands to yourself during the day. This was the only time you could marvel at him like this.

As your fingers ghosted across his cheek, he twitched, and you froze. Then, to your horror, an eye cracked open, and you knew that he had been awake all along.

When you moved to pull away, he caught your wrist, then covered your hand in his. He held your gaze for several long, strange moments, and you realized that he hadn’t simply been awake—he had been allowing you to touch his face, to explore him in a way you had never been brave enough to before. It felt like a gift, in a way. In his way.

“I apologize,” you breathed, unable to look away from him.

“Why?” He asked, voice deep and rough with sleep.

“I should not have touched you without permission.”

“I am your husband,” he said. “And you are carrying my child. You do not need permission to touch me.”

Somehow, you knew his words carried a deeper meaning. You knew you were one of, if not the only, one on all of Giedi Prime whom he had said those words to. And for the first time since marrying him, you felt that Feyd-Rautha was truly your husband.

-0-

He was with you when the labor began.

You had been lounging in your shared chambers, enduring the final week of your pregnancy. It felt bittersweet, in a way; you had no way of knowing then if you would ever be experiencing this again, and a part of you desperately wanted to hold onto it while the rest was fed up with feeling massive and uncomfortable every day.

Feyd-Rautha had been agitated all morning. It was as if he had known something was about to happen, and he had spent his time barely containing himself as he paced and sharpened knives, attempting to keep to himself and leave you alone and doing a piss poor job of it. You had been ready to chase him out of the room—or at least attempt to—when you felt your waters go and the panic set in.

That had been three hours ago.

Now, you were in your bed, and a shockingly-diligent Harkonnen na-Baron had yet to leave your side. He had briefly stepped into the corridor to bellow at the nearest passerby and your midwife had arrived very quickly as a result, but after that, he had sat down next to you and refused to go anywhere else.

“Is it agony?” He asked as you stood.

You shot him a glare. “I would not wish this sensation on even you.”

He was taken aback by your tone, impressed, even, by the venom in it.

“A short walk about the room may help,” the midwife suggested. “I will assist—“

“No.” Feyd-Rautha was up and at your side in an instant, taking your elbow. “I will.”

You didn’t care who did what, you just wanted it to be over and done with. The labor was progressing quickly, the midwife assured after another check once you were back in bed, and soon, you were wailing and grunting, your face was sweaty, and the na-Baron was staring in awe. You were focused on the task set before you, one hand on Feyd’s arm as you pushed with all your might, and so you could not see the way your husband was looking at you.

When your son was born and crying at the top of his tiny lungs, Feyd-Rautha cut the umbilical cord with a hunting knife and then he stared. It seemed that the entire time, he was incapable of looking away, his eyes glued to either you or the new Harkonnen heir. You supposed he had been too enthralled to order the midwife out of the room, and the woman was smart enough not to push her luck—she did the necessary examinations as quickly as she could, then handed the baby off to you, busying herself with cleaning what looked like a murder scene and gathering the afterbirth when it came. Then, satisfied with her work and the health of the child, she left, and you were alone with your husband and son.

You cradled the infant, tucking him against your breast and pulling the edge of your robe over him in an attempt to keep him warm. He was born pale, like his father, but with a soft layer of hair that made you wonder how much he might grow to look like you. The midwife had said it before she slipped out, and you had to agree—he was beautiful, and you smiled down at him.

A thud startled you and you turned to see that Feyd-Rautha had fallen to his knees at your bedside, looking at you with a reverence you had never seen in anyone before.

“Feyd?” You asked.

He looked between you and your son, and you saw then that something had changed within him over those many months. Gone was the dismissive, uncaring husband you had wed; this Feyd-Rautha had grown to become a protector, one who would fight until his muscles tore from his bones, who would bleed himself dry for you.

“You are stronger than I knew,” he murmured, brushing a thumb over your cheek much the way you had with him all those nights ago.

You felt a lump in your throat. “Come here. Join us.”

He did.

Feyd-Rautha sat with you there, in your bed, the very bed your first child was born in. He watched as your son woke from his peaceful, short nap, and he was privy to the private, intimate moment of his first feeding. He held the baby, staring at him in wonder and what may have been a touch of fear, supporting the both of you as he helped you to the bathing room when you were well enough to stand.

“A son,” he said, watching the baby sleep that night.

“Yes.” You mumbled, exhausted and nearly asleep as well. “Are you pleased, husband?”

“I would have been just as pleased with a daughter.”

That surprised you, and you glanced over your shoulder to see him propped up on an elbow, watching your son as he slept in his simple Harkonnen manger. “Really?”

“Yes,” he said, never once taking his eyes off the child. “I can teach a daughter to fight just as well.” Finally, he looked down at you. “Are you well?”

“As well as can be expected.” You sighed.

“Are you happy?”

“Yes, I am,” you answered him, sleep already dragging you down.

You barely felt his lips as he pressed a kiss to your temple, and you barely heard his voice as he said,

“I am as well.”

-0-

You had expected Feyd-Rautha to grow cold in the weeks following your son’s birth, but he never had. He was attentive, caring for you in a way that suggested he felt some primal urge to drag back great beasts for dinner every night but modern living prohibited that.

Now, you watched as he stood before one of the massive windows within the Harkonnen palace. It was evening on Giedi Prime, but the black sun casted no shadows over the landscape. Feyd-Rautha held your son, whispering to him, and as you watched, you wished the moment could stretch on forever.

“Husband,” you said, approaching him.

“Wife,” he greeted you, turning.

“On your evening walk together, I see.”

He chuckled. “I am showing him everything he will one day rule over.”

“I am surprised you haven’t taken him into battle with you yet,” you said sarcastically.

“I will strap him to my chest so that he might taste the blood of House Atreides,” he said with a grin.

“The youngest Harkonnen warrior the world has ever seen.” You smiled, leaning in to check on what appeared to be a perfectly happy, albeit possibile bloodthirsty, baby.

“What are you doing walking alone?” Feyd-Rautha asked.

“Looking for you.”

“And now that you have found me, what do you intend to do?”

You leaned into your husband, resting your head on his shoulder. “Drop the baby off with the wet nurse, seduce you, take you to bed and then have my way with you.”

“You have my attention.”

“I thought you might be interested in trying for a girl this time…”

In a blink, he had spun you around and was dragging you down the corridor, and once the baby was safely tucked in with a nursemaid watching over him, you did indeed have your way with your husband. And again. And again. And you realized, as you retired to bed that night, that you were truly glad to have been arranged to marry Feyd-Rautha, heir to the Harkonnen throne and father of your children.

[shewhobreathesfire]

oh my god I did it I uploaded the second chapter after 4 years LMAO

The second chapter of "Sympathy of a Rider" is up!