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“Morzan, I’m sorry that it had to come to this. But you chose this path. I... I do have a suggestion. I don’t... after everything... I don't want you to die and I think there’s still a part inside of you that knows that what you did is wrong.”
Morzan squeezed his eyes shut were he rested his forehead against the cooling scales of his dragon’s snout. He didn’t want to die, but the hole that just had been torn into his mind, made him careless to his fate too. He could think of nothing else but that he was gone. Half of his soul. Lost. Forever. He thought that his partner being nameless would make it easier. He had been wrong. The pain was indescribable. Worse even than that of the large yagged wounds on his chest from his attempt to save his partner. Futile. Morzan had been useless to defend him. A failure. And only because he had hesitated for one second to kill Brom when he had had the chance.
Brom’s words were barely a murmur through the fog of pain. “I know how it feels. Let me lock away your memories; you can heal at your own pace and for any judgement made on you by the Varden and elves, I will be with you and speak for you.” Brom crouched next to him, sad blue eyes and magic glowing in his palm as he stretched out his hand. “Let me help you. Please.”
Something inside of Morzan stilled and sparked with a last light he still had; like a lighthouse standing in a storm. He couldn’t get captured. He knew too much. About the empire, the draumar and Galbatorix. His eyes widened and he clenched his fists against the scales. Galbatorix. He had promised- they had promised each other to stay together. Forever. No matter what happened. Galbatorix was family. He was his. Morzan couldn’t just abandon him, only because he wanted some quick and easy comfort. He’d rather suffer the agony of loss while being held by his love, than wallow in a dull fog of banished memories while being glared at by people he didn’t know.
Hearing Brom whisper in the ancient language, Morzan threw himself to the side.
The spell hit him just as he slipped into his fur.
He ran. Knowing nothing. Only that he needed to get away.
A panicked voice called after him. But who even was ‘Morzan’?
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He didn’t have a name. Which was odd, but he also couldn’t remember much of his life and he certainly wasn’t just a kitten. He was too big for that. Too big for a normal cat too, and those didn’t speak in their heads either.
Morzan wasn’t sure what had lured him towards the city wall when the giant black dragon landed. Curiosity certainly. Yet, as he snuck into a guard tower and leapt into a window, something pained tugged at his heart when he saw a smaller red dragon lay motionless on the ground.
The same happened when he spotted a man kneeling next to their snout, one hand resting on the scales. It struck something within him that lead into a foggy darkness where he was greeted with a painful stab of agonizing grief. He retreated to the present, terrified.
When the man curled up and pressed his forehead into the dusty ground and the black dragon hid him with a wing, the cat leapt down from the windowsill. He didn’t feel comfortable with staring at the man’s grief. The red dragon must have been a very good friend.
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Morzan always had trouble with the local werecats. Western werecats something had always whispered in his head and he didn’t know what to do with it. Alas, they didn’t approve of his eating habits. The city guard didn’t either, but they hadn’t figured out that it was him who killed those humans and ate them to the bone. Amateurs. They thought it were wolves. Wolves. Cuddly, scaredy hunters who were afraid of dogs. Ridiculous.
Apparently, the werecats hadn’t made an attempt to nudge the guards into the right direction.
Now, sitting across Carabel, Morzan was positively grouchy that it had been due to her efforts that he had regained his memories. And that she had witnessed his hour-long howling at remembering the loss of his partner. And that he hadn’t been there for Galbatorix for years. Followed by the insetting panic about his son. What if someone had hurt his little kitten while he was gone? Or perhaps Murtagh was better of without him. Morzan did hurt him. There had been so many things he could have done better.
He gritted his teeth, claws digging into the cushion he sat on. Carabel flattened her ears in faint disapproval, but Morzan ignored it. She was positively tiny, compared to himself and he found it beneath him to adher to whatever she thought she could demand. Which brought him to a point he had been chewing on, since he had regained his senses enough to communicate.
“Why help me? Why poke my mind to unearth my memories? What do you aim for?”
Carabel’s tail twitched. “I admit, killing you would have been enough to have you stop chewing through the populace. Alas, I can understand that everyone needs to sustain themselves.”
“How progressive. That sounded much different years back when you betrayed my kin to the Order, I imagine.”
“And sparing you is an offer of peace.”
“Bit late, with almost all of my kind now dead.”
“I know!” Carabel hissed, fur bristling, but quickly collected herself. “That isn’t our only reason though. We believe that you could have a... positive influence on the king, if you returned to him. He’s grown increasingly unpredictable and unstable since your disappearance and we can’t ignore that fact anymore.”
“And if I don’t plan on returning to him?”
It was as unbelievable of a sentence as it could be and Carabel’s flat expression made clear that she was very aware how it was bullshit.
“We both know that you will. If not for him, then for your kitten.” She weighed her head a bit. “He’s gone missing for a while.”
This time, Morzan dug his claws into the pillow quite deliberately. “And you don’t tell me that immediately?!”
“Missing from Uru’bâen only. His location is not unknown.”
“Where is he?”
“Safe enough. You should return to Galbatorix.”
Morzan glared at her, Carabel returning it with a flick of her tail and two other werecats slipping into the room.
“If you try to force me-”
“No. You will leave this city and return to Uru’bâen. We won’t force you, but we will not tolerate you here anymore. Even if it comes with a cost of our lives. You have a chance to improve things, after what you’ve brought onto this land.”
“I have no interest in that.”
“But you have an interest in giving your kitten a safe place to live. And if he is your priority; I’m sure that Galbatorix has his own interests in bringing him back to the city.” She bared her fangs in an approximation of a grin. “It’s as if I need to convince you to go back to your chosen mate. But then I hear you purr whenever his name is mentioned.”
“This conversation is over.” Growling, Morzan rose and walked towards the door with his chin raised. “I will return to Uru’bâen. But only because it is my wish, not because you’re yowling for it.”
“You are impressively ungrateful, considering that without us you would still not even know your own name and would still have random noble girls comb the knots out of your fur.”
“My gratefulness consists of me not tearing all of you apart for what you did to my kind.” The door in front of him opened, likely on a mental nudge by Carabel at the guard standing outside. “I hope that we shall never meet again.”
Narrowing her eyes, Carabel’s voice sounded surprisingly friendly. A bit tired maybe. “Likewise. Save travels, hunter of hunters.”
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The way to Uru’bâen had been a headache and a half, with Morzan not being able to properly move in his human form yet and thus travelling hidden away in the back of a merchant’s cart. It was as if he had partially forgotten how his legs and arms worked and turning reminded him awfully of the first time he had been forced to turn. Perhaps it was also a fear of Galbatorix’ reaction, blocking his human appearance in his head. Morzan hoped that he would still want him back.
It seemed almost impossible and yet... what if he had found someone else?
The thought made his steps speed up, paws flying over the streets of the capital. He weaved through legs, making people stumble and curse, dodged the hooves of horses and wheels of carts, and ignored the smells and sounds around him. His attention was fully fixated on the citadel sitting against the overhang.
He didn’t bother with shifting out of his fur at its gates and announcing himself; everyone thought him dead. It was far more likely that the guards would think him a ghost – and a naked one at that - than anything else. Instead, he took a sharp turn on the plaza and headed for an old rat tunnel he remembered. Thankfully, it hadn’t been filled up, even if the rats seemed gone for a long time already and the collected dust and dirt had Morzan crawl almost on his belly, growling at how it got his fur dirty. Perhaps someone had taken care of the vermin around the citadel with spells. A shame in his opinion; they could be very helpful creatures when it came to finding sneaky paths.
Morzan squeezed himself through the exit of the small tunnel, arriving in one of the kitchen's storage rooms. Almost at the very bottom of the citadel. Of course. Couldn’t be easy and quick for once. He stretched and quickly cleaned his fur, then hurried on.
It was... nice to be back in these startlingly familiar surroundings. Morzan had thought that perhaps his previous memory loss would have made things foggy, but he found his way onto the rafters and through the airshafts with practiced ease. A bit too much ease perhaps, since when he stood in front of Galbatorix’ quarters, he suddenly felt rather unprepared.
Should he have practiced a small speech first? Planned out his explanation why he had broken his promise and had left the other alone for so long? Would Galbatorix believe the story of his memory loss? Although he could still also just show him his memories. He could have all of Morzan’s memories that he wanted, really.
Morzan took a deep breath, shuddering and purring as he took in Galbatorix’ scent on the air.
He was about to jump up on the doorhandle, when a servant walked around the corner with a tray in his hands. Morzan swiftly squeezed himself into a shadowy corner, then slipped through the door after the man as if he was his shadow. He quickly hid under a side-table, watching as the servant gave a small sigh and exchanged the contents of his tray with those on the small table that Galbatorix liked to use for his private breakfasts. It looked like nothing had been eaten. It wasn’t too unusual for Galbatorix, but together with the servant’s reaction it still made Morzan worry. It always had.
The werecat waited until the servant left, then slowly walked from the front room into Galbatorix’ bedroom and private office. Emphasis on the office part, as he always worked more than he slept.
Like now.
Morzan’s breath stuck in his throat and his legs trembled as his eyes fell on his love.
Galbatorix sat at his desk, writing, the sunlight dimmed by the constant shadow of the overhang falling through the windows directly onto him. He hadn’t changed at all, on first glance. Yet, knowing him as well as he did, Morzan easily spotted the shadows under his eyes and the gauntness of his cheeks, as well his chapped lips and slight tremble to his movements.
Hesitantly, Morzan stepped forward, quietly meowing to get his attention. Galbatorix stilled, inhaled deeply, then kept on writing.
A little miffed, Morzan meowed again, louder. This time, Galbatorix set down his quill, fists clenching on the tabletop.
“I thought I was through this. Why do you haunt me again?”
Confused, Morzan stalked closer, tilting his head to get a better view on the other’s face which was half-hidden by his black hair now. He meowed again, a bit frustrated by the lack of proper acknowledgment.
“Stop. You’re not real. Leave me be.” He buried his face his hands.
Oh. Morzan really should have expected this. Galbatorix’ mind had always hurt easily like this. And loss wasn’t exactly an easy topic for him. Alas, they both were here now. Alive.
Intending to break through his love’s denial, Morzan meowed again. Loud. It was almost a yowl really. He would also have leapt onto the other's lap, but he had to dodge the inkpot that Galbatorix hurled into his direction.
Their eyes met just as the glass splintered in a corner, ink splattering and staining the floor.
Stumbling upright and tipping over his chair in the process, Galbatorix clenched his fists to his chest, gasping for air.
“You’re... You’re not here! You’re dead. I can’t...” He pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes, then blinked at Morzan as if he hoped that it might make him disappear. “I’m not that far gone. Leave me be! I can’t be-”
He froze as Morzan touched his mind. And so unlike him, he opened up to him with barely any hesitation, hopelessness, wrath and grief swirling for the werecat to see. Until he reached back and brushed against Morzan’s deeply familiar thougts.
“It’s me. I’m here. Really. I can explain, don’t be angry with me. I was-”
He didn’t get further, as Galbatorix scrambled towards him, dropped to his knees and gathered him in his arms. His fingers dug into his fur, like his mind into his, arms squeezing around him and burying his nose into Morzan’s neck. The werecat made no move to fend of neither the tight hold, nor the mind shamelessly digging through his. The closeness felt like it was pulling Morzan back together, making him breathe easier again for the first time in years.
“This can’t be real...” Galbatorix’ voice broke.
Suddenly, shifting out of his fur didn’t feel almost painful anymore and a second later, Morzan hugged the other back.
“It is. I’m here.” His own face felt wet.
Unbothered by his nakedness, Galbatorix dug his nails into his skin. Not enough to harm, but enough to pinch, as if the pain was proving the truth through their minds’ connection.
“You really are. Never-”
He choked on his breath, tears taking over his eloquence, unstiffled sobs wracking him and sending small stabs into Morzan’s heart.
“I’m here.”
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Galbatorix had handed him a pair of pants – too short in the legs, but comfortable – and they had simply sat on the bed to talk further. Just because it was the closest – and so soft; dropping backwards, Morzan couldn’t remember when he had last lain on something this soft. And while he had pondered that out loud, Galbatorix had simply laid against the pillows against the headboard, smiling. Morzan had huddled against him without a second thought.
His smile had gained a new barely-there crease of sadness, which wouldn’t leave even if Morzan was back now. His black eyes were as sharp and beautiful the taller remembered them. Like a starless night. Secrets hidden. Morzan took a mental note to lure Galbatorix outside more often soon; the other’s copper skin had that ashen tint that he always got when he buried himself too deep in his research and writing. Still it didn’t diminsh how stunning he was. And his voice! No memory of it would have done it justice. It made Morzan want to rest against his love and let his words pool around him like warm water, unmoving except for when Morzan rippled it with his own agreeing hums and laughs.
One other thing did keep Morzan’s mind busy though, keeping him from fully letting himself drift on the joy of their reunion.
“Where’s Murtagh?”
Galbatorix let out a long sigh but didn’t stop drawing circles on Morzan’s naked back with his fingers. He had sucked in a sharp breath when he had seen the scars on his chest, but Morzan had fended the topic off for later with a shake of his head.
“He's currently being brought back from what I’d call an early adult temper tantrum.”
Morzan tensed, lifting his head from Galbatorix’ chest. “What happened?”
“Ask me what things didn’t happen while you were gone?” The king pulled a face at his own words. “No. That’s not worded right. Spirits. I’m not accusing you for Brom being an egoistic meddling prick.” Sitting half-upright as he was, he grabbed Morzan’s arms before he could pull away. “I know Murtagh is important to you. When he came here, I gave him one of the best of my swordfighters to have an eye on him and teach him, together with his cooking girlfriend. And then that soldier went and put fleas into his head anout running away. Of course Murtagh wasn’t happy when that idiot Tornac got himself killed. Neither was I; it wasn’t the plan. But that didn’t mean that he had to go off and play nanny to that new rider.”
Morzan shoved aside that apparently the blue egg must have been picked up by Brom after the fight and then hatched at some point. His son was more important. It was difficult to hold back a snarl, and he likely still showed his fangs when he leaned over Galbatorix.
“Why didn’t you take care of him? Murtagh is my son.”
“I know! But do you really think that I have the time to-” He huffed, then shook his head. “No. We once said we wouldn’t lie to another, didn’t we.”
Staring down at his hands, he was clearly struggling with the truth burning in his mind. Morzan knew that his love rarely had such qualms to voice his thoughts. Only if it pertained something that he regarded as one of his failures. In such situations it was best not to push too much. Though Morzan’s patience on this topic was rather limited. He leaned forward, not touching the other.
“Then don’t lie.”
Galbatorix looked towards the windows for a moment, eyebrows scrunching together slightly. When he looked back at Morzan, he seemed even more tired than before. As if he had just woken from one of his many nightmares.
“How could I raise him? There’s too much of you in him. It hurt. Every time I so much as had to look at him, it was always a reminder of whom I had lost. Whom I failed to protect. And to hear him speak of you like a monster-”
“We didn’t part on good terms the last time I saw him.”
“He was being an ungrateful brat who doesn’t even know what hunger, cold or heat feel like and he was slandering your memory! Perhaps I should have taken him under my wing and tossed him onto the streets to teach him some manners!”
Morzan let his teeth snap closed a breath away from his throat. The other didn’t so much as flinch; a show of trust that made heat flare in Morzan’s stomach, but right now he was also a bit miffed that he couldn’t put some fear into the older.
“Do not threaten my son just because facing your feelings scared you too much!”
Galbatorix made to push him away with a snarl, but Morzan caught his hands, pressing down on him with his weight. With both their rider strenght, Galbatorix had always been able to go toe to toe with Morzan when it came to brute force. Now though, his arms buckled in seconds. The taller was about to make a snappy comment on how Galbatorix should eat more, but stilled when he noticed that it wasn’t a sudden bout of weakness that had made the other give in. At least not like that.
The older had covered his face with his arms, breaths coming in sharp hiccups.
“Torix?”
“I don’t want to fight with you. It’s just... after you where gone... I couldn’t find a reason to do anything. I only wanted everyone to suffer and die. I wanted everyone to hurt! I wanted myself to...”
Allowing himself to feel smug about elicting such strong feelings from Galbatorix for one second – he would do the same in his position-, Morzan then swallowed and shuffled down again to squeeze himself against the other as tightly as possible. He made no attempt to tug Galbatorix’ arms away from his face; he needed that sense of hiding for now.
“I didn’t want to put pressure on you. But you understand why I’m upset?”
The older hesitated, likely overthinking Morzan’s question more than necessary. Then he nodded, dropping his arms to let his hands rest limply on the matress, strands of his hair sticking to his cheeks with tears.
“Yes.”
“That’s all I ask of you. Everything else, we’ll decide later, once he’s back. You could try for a new attempt.”
“Morzan. Murtagh is an adult now.”
Smile slipping off his face, Morzan grimaced in understanding. All the time he had missed... Time in which he could have made it up to Murtagh for the incident with Zar’roc. Time in which he could have seen him grow up from an awkward kitten into a fierce hunter. And yet, he couldn’t even hate Brom for taking that time from him; if he had made another decision, Morzan would likely have died in Gil’ead. As his partner had.
A hand softly carding through his hair pulled him from his spiral. He shifted his head to look up at Galbatorix, who gave him a still a bit sad but warm smile.
“Chin up, my heart. That we both have the chance to be together again, should outshine everything else.”
Heart filling with warmth, Morzan shifted up a bit, to kiss his love. “Hm. Yes. It really should do that.” He studied Galbatorix’ face, brushing his fingers over his cheek and down his jaw over his always so neatly cut beard. “I love you.”
“And I love you.” The older blinked quickly. “I still expect you to disappear like a ghost of the sands at any moment.”
“I won’t. I’ll never leave you again, Torix. We’ll go everywhere together from now on. And if it’s to the end of the world.”
“I like that.”
“Good.”
Resting chest to chest, Morzan pushed his nose into Galbatorix’ neck, inhaling his wonderful sand, lightning, magic, scent. After all those years, it still made him go pliant and burning on the inside on the same time. When he started purring, Galbatorix chuckled, wrapped his arms around his shoulders and began peppering every bit he could reach of him with kisses.
Morzan could get a proper picture of everything that happened and was happening and possible future plans, later. Now, for just a few hours, they could simply rest, only speak when they wanted to and relish in each other’s company and love. They were home.