Work Text:
Eragon shifted nervously in his seat, staring down at the parchment papers he had written his transformation spells on. He had persuaded Oromis to review his work to make sure the magic would work as intended.
Orimis had made only minor changes- replacing a few words and correcting minor grammar mistakes.
Little one, Saphira's mind-voice spoke, draping over his worries like a heavy blanket.
Yes Saphie? he said in his mind, knowing she would still hear him, their mind-links like a comforting pressure.
You think too much and you make my scales itch with your worry. Oromis-Master said you did fine work. You have the energy within you. Why not go ahead with the spell-weaving?
I know I just… his mind-voice trailed off, worry coiling in his belly. *What if people stare?*
He felt amusement enter him through Sapphira.
They already stare since the blood-oath-dragon-magic made you more elfish. And besides, you are a rider, they will always stare at you. Why not make yourself comfortable if the attention is already fixed upon you?
Eragon sighed. The azure-scaled dragon was right, as most often she was. He gathered the papers into his hands, despite having already memorized them ten times over; He wanted reassurance.
Going down to the soft human-dragon-nest-room he shared atop the tree with Saphira he saw her curled up, waiting for him.
Spreading out the items that could be needed- the papers, Zar'roc with it's embedded ruby full of excess energy that could be of use in the process, and another magically charged gemstone Oromis-elder had given him just in case more energy was required- a deep breath filled Eragon’s lungs.
He exhaled shakily as he made the final preparations, making sure all the entrances were shut and sealed magically. He did not want anyone to walk in mid process and distract him.
With an air of finality, Eragon stripped off his tunic and shirt, slowly unwrapping his chest. It struck him as he realized it would be the final time his hands would follow those motions.
His chest hung heavy, throbbing painfully after being bound day after day. Eragon knew it wasn't safe, especially given the physical strains he was often put through.
Eragon took another deep breath, an ache burrowing and settling heavy in his chest.
He began by conjuring a melody to a lullaby he had heard often in Carvahall. There were no words just yet, only vocalizations to cement the familiar rhythm into his being.
As Eragon settled into the cadence, he breached the magical protrusion in his mind. Immersing himself in the thrumming power within it, he allowed the power to flood his mind as he started vocalizing the words he had painstakingly gone over. The words beginning to flow to the melody, Eragon felt Saphira’s mind join his, ready to intervene if the procedure went awry.
The young man sang of transformation, of crumbling like dead skin, of growth and healing, of severance, and of production. Eragon’s words served to produce the proper chemicals his body naturally lacked, just as he had learned from Oromis and the writing of the elves. He focused his energy, making sure his changing body would be able to reliably and healthily produce the necessary hormones.
The melody continued, flowing from Eragon’s mouth, mind, and body. His chest grew lighter as he sang of parting and his face itched as he sang of growth. The man’s stomach tingled as his figure grew and shifted, fat and structure burning away to reveal something truly masculine. He left his sex mostly untouched; he had no real issue with it. He only allowed a small spurt of growth, just enough to bring a sense of joy and weight between his legs.
Lastly Eragon sang of binding to make the changes last, imbuing power into every syllable. He let specific wards against stripping his changes away wrap themselves around him, protecting. With one last verse, he was finished. He breathed in deeply and heavily, though not from exertion. The sudden lack of weight constricting around his chest and lungs was new and surprising.
It was freeing.
He let out a joyous burst of happiness, the joy radiating through his mental length with Saphira, causing her let out a triumphant bugle. Eragon could practically do a cartwheel, he felt so light he might take flight on the aid of Saphira’s wings. His hands grasped at his chest, feeling the lack of bulging flesh that had angered and hurt him since he had first reached puberty. The flat skin with its light dusting of hair brought another joyous smile to his face. Eragon reached a hand up to his face to feel the hair that he had grown.
He knew Oromis wouldn't let him keep it very long, though he had permitted the well-groomed stubble Eragon had asked to have.
He let out another shout of joy, racing forward to hug Saphira’s large blue form close.
Little one!! You are as you wished, you look as you look in your mind's eye! It is a most flattering look upon you.
Eragon smiled up at her, almost shaking with joy.
“We should go to Oromis to show him my work,” he giggled out loud.
*It was nice of Oromis-Elder and Glaedr-Elder to correct your spells and to offer their wisdome and knowledge, Saphira spoke in his mind.
It truly was, and I don't know how I’ll ever repay them. They had offered to have other spellcasters assist me, but I don't think it would have brought the same bliss and pride as it does now, sharing it with you, Eragon responded gleefully.
He gathered up just his shirt, forgoing the tunic. It no longer hung properly on his body. He strapped Zar'roc to his hip, gathering up the gem Oromis had given him. He proudly noted it still thrummed with energy, proving his own strength.
He hopped onto Saphira's back, marveling at the lack of movement from his now flat chest.
"Could you pick up my wrappings? I have a question I wish to ask of Oromis and Glaedr." He whispered quietly aloud.
Saphira picked them up with as little contact as possible, almost as if in disgust. Knocking the window cover aside, she jumped out with Eragon holding on tight and took flight towards the teacher’s hut. Orimis was outside with two sets of tea, as well as two bowls of soup, bread, and various cheese and fruits.
Saphira and Eragon landed, jumping down and running to Oromis.
"Orimis-Elder!! Glaedr-Elder!! Look!" exclaimed Eragon. And in a very bold move as he stood in front of the elf, he stripped off his shirt, revealing the flat slightly hairy skin adorning his chest now. The elf turned away out of habit at first, and then looked back, examining as a smile ghosted across his lips.
"You did very well, Eragon. But please… keep yourself decent," The elf said, voice low, but obviously proud.
Eragon, slightly embarrassed at his outburst, pulled his shirt back over his head. He then sat down next to elf. Blushing slightly, he cleared his throat and greeted Oromis and Glaedr properly.
After greetings were exchanged he was quiet for a moment.
Gathering his courage he spoke softly, "I brought the things I was using as covers. Do you think that you, Glaedr-Elder, could burn them, along with Saphie?” He paused, almost shaking. “I don't wish to force you… it would just mean a great deal personally if you might."
Eragon felt amusement emanate from Glaedr as Saphira dropped the wrappings and widened her stance, reaching deep inside for the belly-fire. He watched with relief and glee as Glaedr shifted into a similar stance.
Eragon looked on with almost tearful delight as the raging flames reduced the garments to nothing but a fine ash.
Burning with a sudden desire, he waited until the fires subsided. Upon the extinguishing of the last lingering flames, Eragon kicked the pile of insubstantial ashes, spreading them so thoroughly they could not be put back together, even by the evil king.
A breath that felt as though he had been holding it for all his life eased out of his lungs. He bowed to both of his teachers.
"Thank you elders," he uttered as relief and joy washed over him yet again.
"Now that that is over with..." Oromis continued with Eragon’s teachings for the day, and didn't seem to notice or care when Eragon's thoughts drifted and a hand came up to his chest.
He was happy.