fic: in the night light (we still shine bright) // brom&morzan // inheritance, pre-series
title: in the night light (we still shine bright)
fandom: inheritance
rating: pg
pairing/characters: brom, morzan (morzan/galbatorix, unreq. brom/morzan)
warnings: brisingr spoilers, kind of incest? forsworn continuity, but i'm pretty sure no one cares.
disclaimer: inheritance & all characters belongs to chris paolini, and his thesaurus. the title comes from the hush sound song crawling towards the sun.
summary: "this is not what i wanted for you." brom and morzan, in the aftermath of the death of the first saphira.
Morzan sits in the house (Galbatorix's house; his now, too, he supposes), the house in the forest outside of Ilirea, and waits. His hands are still bloody, still with crimson embedded crimon in the beds of his fingernails, and he runs them through his hair. His breath catches in his throat.
[Galbatorix says, silk-soft in his head, what are you doing?
Alyzarin tells him to shut up.]
He is not waiting long. Brom bursts through the door, wild-eyed with blue-green ichor all over his hands and his clothes. "Morzan," he says, and his voice is cracking. "Why?" he asks, desperate, and the question hangs in the air dripping poison worse than any knife.
Morzan's heart breaks; the first crack of what he knows will be many. He chose this path; he swallows. "I'm sorry," he says, getting up, feet carrying him on this inexorable careful course. "I'm so, so, sorry, Brom. I didn't have a choice."
"I would have joined you," Brom says, almost disbelieving. "Shirii, Morzan, I-- I trusted you, I would have done anything for you. Anything."
"I know," Morzan says, all too aware of the inadequacy of these hollow words (like birds, light on the dawn). "Brom, I-- I couldn't let you do it. Wouldn't, I mean; he asked but I--"
"Why did you kill her?" Brom asks, strangely detached; shock, Morzan thinks. His fingers trace runes in the air at his sides, and then are clenched, white-knuckled. "Couldn't you just-- let us be?"
"Brom," Morzan says, taking another step; from here he can see the lines on Brom's face, see the tear-marks red around his eyes and the shadows in the backs of them. "The dragons. The wild ones-- they are going to take our dragons' names. I am not going to be able to speak to Alyzarin; she is going to be as an animal, Brom, she is not going to remember who she is, I am not going to remember who she is, is that what you would want for your Saphira?"
"Then why the fuck are you doing this?" Brom asks, choking on the words. "Morzan, it's not--"
"You're my brother," Morzan says, carefully, gently, (he knows it has to hurt) "but this must be done. Love only runs so deep."
Brom sucks in a breath. "What."
"I'm not going to say it again," Morzan says, "but I. I don't want to--this isn't what I wanted for you."
"It's why you wouldn't--" Brom starts, stops. "Morzan, I--"
Morzan grins, wryly, bitterly. "This has to be done, you know it does. This place, it's stagnating, it's breaking; you can only be immortal so long before you lose what it was that you were. Someone needed to shake things up, and--"
"And he's the one you trust to do it." There's this tremor in his voice; Morzan knows he would break, bend, if he pushed the right way. He doesn't; he can't.
"Brom," Morzan says, "Galbatorix is--he is darker than you are. He can-- he can orchestrate this, he won't break from it. He's accepted that he will be the one the future hates."
"You want him to?" Brom swallows, running his fingers through his hair. "Fuck, Morzan, I don't even care anymore. This is done. This--us-- it's over. I loved you once, and I don't anymore. And one day I'm going to cut your throat and watch you bleed like you watched my dragon." His voice is cool, sharp steel.
Morzan can't help but flinch. "Yeah," he says, "I'll go now. You can see yourself out," and there's a little frisson of worry from Alyzarin running up his spine as he steps past Brom, sliding around the other man with a little spark from Galbatorix's wards.
"I loved you," Brom whispers.
"I'll be seeing you, little brother," Morzan whispers, and he steps out the door.
fandom: inheritance
rating: pg
pairing/characters: brom, morzan (morzan/galbatorix, unreq. brom/morzan)
warnings: brisingr spoilers, kind of incest? forsworn continuity, but i'm pretty sure no one cares.
disclaimer: inheritance & all characters belongs to chris paolini, and his thesaurus. the title comes from the hush sound song crawling towards the sun.
summary: "this is not what i wanted for you." brom and morzan, in the aftermath of the death of the first saphira.
Morzan sits in the house (Galbatorix's house; his now, too, he supposes), the house in the forest outside of Ilirea, and waits. His hands are still bloody, still with crimson embedded crimon in the beds of his fingernails, and he runs them through his hair. His breath catches in his throat.
[Galbatorix says, silk-soft in his head, what are you doing?
Alyzarin tells him to shut up.]
He is not waiting long. Brom bursts through the door, wild-eyed with blue-green ichor all over his hands and his clothes. "Morzan," he says, and his voice is cracking. "Why?" he asks, desperate, and the question hangs in the air dripping poison worse than any knife.
Morzan's heart breaks; the first crack of what he knows will be many. He chose this path; he swallows. "I'm sorry," he says, getting up, feet carrying him on this inexorable careful course. "I'm so, so, sorry, Brom. I didn't have a choice."
"I would have joined you," Brom says, almost disbelieving. "Shirii, Morzan, I-- I trusted you, I would have done anything for you. Anything."
"I know," Morzan says, all too aware of the inadequacy of these hollow words (like birds, light on the dawn). "Brom, I-- I couldn't let you do it. Wouldn't, I mean; he asked but I--"
"Why did you kill her?" Brom asks, strangely detached; shock, Morzan thinks. His fingers trace runes in the air at his sides, and then are clenched, white-knuckled. "Couldn't you just-- let us be?"
"Brom," Morzan says, taking another step; from here he can see the lines on Brom's face, see the tear-marks red around his eyes and the shadows in the backs of them. "The dragons. The wild ones-- they are going to take our dragons' names. I am not going to be able to speak to Alyzarin; she is going to be as an animal, Brom, she is not going to remember who she is, I am not going to remember who she is, is that what you would want for your Saphira?"
"Then why the fuck are you doing this?" Brom asks, choking on the words. "Morzan, it's not--"
"You're my brother," Morzan says, carefully, gently, (he knows it has to hurt) "but this must be done. Love only runs so deep."
Brom sucks in a breath. "What."
"I'm not going to say it again," Morzan says, "but I. I don't want to--this isn't what I wanted for you."
"It's why you wouldn't--" Brom starts, stops. "Morzan, I--"
Morzan grins, wryly, bitterly. "This has to be done, you know it does. This place, it's stagnating, it's breaking; you can only be immortal so long before you lose what it was that you were. Someone needed to shake things up, and--"
"And he's the one you trust to do it." There's this tremor in his voice; Morzan knows he would break, bend, if he pushed the right way. He doesn't; he can't.
"Brom," Morzan says, "Galbatorix is--he is darker than you are. He can-- he can orchestrate this, he won't break from it. He's accepted that he will be the one the future hates."
"You want him to?" Brom swallows, running his fingers through his hair. "Fuck, Morzan, I don't even care anymore. This is done. This--us-- it's over. I loved you once, and I don't anymore. And one day I'm going to cut your throat and watch you bleed like you watched my dragon." His voice is cool, sharp steel.
Morzan can't help but flinch. "Yeah," he says, "I'll go now. You can see yourself out," and there's a little frisson of worry from Alyzarin running up his spine as he steps past Brom, sliding around the other man with a little spark from Galbatorix's wards.
"I loved you," Brom whispers.
"I'll be seeing you, little brother," Morzan whispers, and he steps out the door.