Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

CW: Medieval Gender Terminology & Views, Dysphoria

~~~~~Eragon~~~~~

I: Cracking of Eggs

~~~~~Eragon~~~~~

October 10th, Year 7999

Carvahall

“Don’t make too much of a nuisance of yourself now,” Garrow told his nephew.

“Me? Never, Uncle Garrow,” Eragon teasingly reassured his Uncle. Garrow rolled his eyes and grumbled good-naturedly before going off to do his business. Eragon would have until about sunset to do as he liked within reason, so he decided to check on the traders and see if any offered something of interest.

Well. His interest. For once Garrow agreed with the old storyteller Brom that everything was of interest to someone. Perhaps those people could be eccentrics, but some would say the same of Eragon for still being fascinated by tales of Dragon Riders despite being fifteen.

A mere four years and he would be a man. Talk about a disturbing thought, though he couldn't place why. He certainly didn't mind eventually being an adult, but ‘man’ grated on him. Maybe it was because his voice had only just begun to crack and his body only had the finest hairs still. Maturity was coming slowly, it seemed.

Meanwhile, Roran had hair on his chest, a scruffy beard, and muscles galore in comparison to his more slender cousin. He also had a sweetheart in the prettiest girl from Carvahall - Katrina. Some men truly had all the luck, it seemed.

As Eragon browsed the traders, a frown crossed his lips. Harmon was missing. His usual shop was still manned - but by a woman who seemed similar in appearance. Perhaps a sister or cousin? His curiosity besting him, Eragon approached.

“Hello, um… Are you related to Harmon?” He asked. “Sorry to ask, but you look a lot like him.”

The woman chuckled. Her voice sounded husky. “Hello to you as well, Eragon. I'm Harmon. Or I used to be. I go by Vera now,” she… he(?) explained.

“I… I don't follow,” Eragon admitted, lost. A man presenting as a woman? What an odd concept. “Is it… Magic?”

Vera shook her (his?) head. “No, though that would be lovely wouldn't it?” She (may as well stick with she, otherwise his head might spin) joked. “I had the body of a man when born, but over time I grew to know my mind wasn't quite in agreement. I’ve the mind of a woman, and now I ingest herbs to get the body on the right track.”

“You… You can really do that?” Eragon asked in disbelief. That sounded extraordinary!

Vera nodded, seeming pleased oddly enough. “Certainly. Can even ask others to use the right name - can't be a woman with a man’s name, eh? - and call you she and her. Probably could have a woman become a man, too, if they liked. It's all rather odd, I'll grant you, but I'm a fair deal happier,” she confessed, eyes alight in a way that definitely seemed different to before.

“And… Does it bother anyone?” Eragon asked curiously before his face burned. “Oh, uh. Not saying it bothers me, just… It's a big change, so…”

“Calm down, Eragon. I've hardly a problem answering,” Vera told him gently. “To answer your question… yes, but nobody worth my time. The Caravan treats me with respect and kindness. If others find me odd, that is their problem, not mine. I am not hurting others, I am merely different.”

“Different…” Eragon murmured, tilting his head a bit. “And how… Did you know?” He asked.

“That I'm a woman?” Vera clarified, to which Eragon nodded. “Frankly, I realized I hated being called ‘him’, ‘man’, ‘sir’, and so on. It isn't who I am. It isn't what I am. It hurt to be called those things. I also realized my body felt… wrong, I suppose. The shape, size…” She grimaced. “Parts.”

Eragon shuddered. “That… That sounds horrific. I'm so sorry, Vera,” he murmured.

Vera smiled, and he could see her eyes get a bit wet. “Thank you, Eragon. I appreciate your sympathy,” she told him. “Honestly, it surprised me that none others in Carvahall - who recognize me anyway - have minded.”

“Even Sloan?” Eragon asked skeptically.

“I said of those who recognized me, dear boy,” Vera said with a laugh.

Eragon paused. He felt it. A pang in his chest.

“Eragon? Are you alright? You look an awful fright,” Vera said, looking worried as she stepped around her stall to gently cup his cheek.

“What… What does the pain feel like?” He asked a bit shakily. “When they said ‘sir’ or ‘man’ or—”

“‘Boy’?” Vera asked gently.

Eragon winced and gave the tiniest of nods.

“Like a tightness in my chest. Discomfort, sometimes a bit like a punch to the belly or as though my heart were squeezed if I'm particularly sensitive and aware,” she explained, gently leading Eragon to the spare chair by her stall and sitting back on her own seat.

“...I felt it,” Eragon whispered softly. “But… Maybe it was just a fluke. I've been feeling funny lately,” he offered. That blue stone had been messing with his sleep a bit, after all. Hopefully, when it was time to meet Merlock, he'd get some answers to that dilemma.

“Perhaps…” Vera tentatively agreed, but she looked at Eragon appraisingly for a moment. “If I may… Perhaps we could test it? I could refer to you as a girl just the once.”

“What would that do?” Eragon asked, bemused even as his heart raced in his chest and he felt oddly excited. It had made him sort of… happy to hear that.

“Well, I felt a way I can only describe as euphoric when I was first referred to as a woman,” Vera explained. “If you feel indifference or displeasure, then that pang in your chest was nothing. If you feel excited, happy, or ‘euphoric’...”

“Ah.”

“Quite,” Vera agreed. “But if you're not up to it, I can understand. Being like myself can be… Scary, sometimes. I won't deny I am much happier, but I won't lie and say it is all sunshine and flowers.”

Eragon hesitated a bit. He had two options. He could ignore the pang, move on, and be a boy like everyone expected. That way the only issues he'd have are rude berks like Sloan or his own mistakes.

…But if that pang was no fluke, he'd also likely feel empty and lost, he could tell. He would feel like he'd missed a chance. Failed himself.

And besides. It was just a couple words. What was the harm?

“Let's do it,” he told Vera. “I'd rather know than worry.”

“Smart,” Vera mused. “Let's see… Is your name fine? Or shall I use a woman’s name?”

That caught Eragon a bit off-guard. “Um… I suppose mine is fine,” he decided. “It's the only name I've ever had.”

“Fair enough,” Vera said. “Well… Eragon is a girl from Carvahall, niece to Garrow. She's a friendly one who hunts well and thinks deeply.”

A couple tears slid down Eragon’s face as he felt an immense swelling in his chest. A pleasant feeling he had felt only rarely.

“Shit,” he muttered, furiously wiping at his eyes.

“Is it no good?” Vera asked nervously.

“Um… It… It f-felt nice,” he admitted softly. “I… I didn't really expect that. I…” He sniffled a bit. “I liked it. Being called a girl.”

“Then… I suppose you're a girl,” Vera murmured softly. “Congratulations?”

Eragon sniffled again even as another swell of warmth filled him. “Am… Am I even allowed to do that? I haven't done anything yet. We only just did that little test, I—”

“Eragon,” Vera interrupted gently. “Do you want to be a girl?”

Another tear fell. “Yes,” he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion.

“Then you are. Clothes, hair, name, how others call you? That can come with time. The core is how you feel and think of yourself,” Vera explained, tapping his chest and then temple. “If you feel and think you want to be a girl, then you are. End of discussion.”

Eragon sniffled a bit and managed a small smile. “Okay… Okay. I… I'm a girl,” she whispered softly.

Vera’s eyes shined and she ruffled Eragon’s hair. “Atta girl. And… Every girl needs a little jewelry,” she mused before plucking a delicate silver pendant fitted with a small polished sapphire from her table. “A gift. From one girl to another,” she said firmly, placing it in Eragon’s hands and closing his hands over it. “Not cheap, but you can make it up to me by staying true to yourself, okay.”

Eragon nodded a bit, a wet giggle passing through her.

“What is it?” Vera asked, bemused.

“Before I saw you… Well, I'd been thinking I wouldn't like to be a ‘man’ when I became an adult. Then I saw you, and here we are,” she admitted. “And… Being a woman sounds a fair deal better.”

“It does, doesn't it?” Vera mused, gently ruffling Eragon’s hair again. “Now then… a great deal south in Teirm, I met an herbalist that gave me a recipe for fixing my body. Herbs to brew. Just so happens…” She rummaged in a box, pulled out a roll of parchment, and handed it to Eragon. “I made more than one copy. Easy stuff to find in the Spine, at least to stop your body from making you a man. Not too sure on going the right path, but that'd be your wheelhouse anyway, hmm?”

Eragon clutched the parchment and pendant to her chest like the lifeline they felt like. “I… Thank you,” she managed. “This is… Honestly like a dream.”

“Nay. It's reality,” Vera replied. “Which means you shouldn't thank me too soon. You've to tell Garrow and Roran at the least, not to mention everyone else when you're finally ready to be a girl publicly.”

“Oh,” Eragon said much more softly, her excitement now running side by side with anxiety. “That's…” She shuddered a bit. “I… Don't know how they'd react. I mean… I’d never heard of people like you - er, us - until just today. So…”

“Won't know until you ask,” Vera pointed out. “But a good idea would be to tell them about me. How ‘Harmon’ is now ‘Vera’. Gauge their reactions. If they don't seem fussed…” She shrugged. “Tell them.”

Eragon nodded, managing to smile. Then she saw a couple villagers approach the stall. “Uh… Thank you, Vera!” She called just before rising to leave. The trader winked and waved her away good-naturedly.

For her part, Eragon rather nervously yet excitedly went to search for her uncle and cousin. She really hoped they would be accepting. She loved them, after all… And it would be awkward if she started taking these herbs and her body changed the way she wanted it to without them knowing who - well, what - she was.

It seemed her life rather liked complicating itself on her.

“Um… Roran? Uncle Garrow? Can-can I talk to you both about something?” Eragon asked tentatively after they'd finished dinner. She'd decided to wait until bellies were full since they'd already be at the table.

“Uh… Sure?” Roran shrugged, seeming unfussed. “Is it about that stone? Sorry you couldn't sell it.”

Eragon shrugged a bit. “That's not why I'm, uh… Asking, actually,” she admitted.

Garrow arched an eyebrow. “You didn't do something dangerous, did you?” He asked with a grim tone.

“No, promise,” Eragon replied hurriedly. She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. “I… Well. Do you both remember Harmon?” She asked. Both men nodded cautiously. “Uh… She's Vera, now. She's a woman.”

Roran snorted and even Garrow seemed amused. “Pull the other one, cousin. Good joke,” Roran teased.

“Did you see Harmon?” Eragon countered.

Both men paused and frowned. “You're serious?” Garrow asked. Eragon nodded. “Well… No, I did not,” he admitted.

“He's a woman now. I saw her - her new name is Vera. Her mind and body were apparently at odds. Mind of a woman, body of a man,” she explained, fighting to wrest her anxiety under control. Neither Roran nor Garrow had displayed anything beyond confusion so far.

“And… How does that work?” Roran asked. “I mean… I don't understand.”

“I didn't either until I asked questions,” Eragon answered.

“Huh… Well, you and your questions always seem to find interesting things,” Garrow mused. “What did… She? Say.”

Heartened by Garrow’s use of ‘she’ and not ‘he’, Eragon explained. “It apparently hurt her to be called ‘sir’ and ‘him’, and when she tried ‘miss’ and ‘her’, it made her happy. She dresses like a woman, wears her hair long, and even behaves like a woman now. There's even herbs to make the body less manly and more womanly,” Eragon said, blushing slightly at the word ‘womanly’.

“Huh… Well, that's new,” Garrow mused before shrugging. “Anybody giving her trouble?”

“Well… Not among the traders. And, uh. Those who are? Jerks like Sloan. She said they don't matter to her,” Eragon explained.

“Ah. Yes, Sloan can be… Difficult,” Roran muttered with a shake to his head. “But still, if - Vera? If Vera isn't hurting anyone, I don't see the trouble. Curious thing, though,” he mused, looking thoughtful.

“Why mention it?” Garrow asked. “I don't mind learning, I suppose, but it hardly seems something farmers need worry much about.”

“I… You're not… wrong, exactly,” Eragon admitted before she squirmed nervously in her seat. “But… We… Kind of do,” she began, “Because… I feel the same.”

“What?” Roran asked in disbelief while Garrow gave her a long look.

“I… When I was talking to Vera, she called me ‘boy’ and… It hurt. I… I think it always did and I just didn't get it. I mean, I've always preferred wanting to be an ‘adult’ than a ‘man’ when I grow. And… And when we tested it out by having her call me ‘she’ and a girl… It made me happy. Really happy. She even gave me the recipe for how to fix my body,” she explained, rambling thanks to her risen anxiety. “I… I want this. I really, really want this. And… And I don't want you two t-to… To hate me,” she said softly, swiftly wiping her eyes dry of the tears that began to fall.

“I… See…” Garrow mused, his brow deeply furrowed. “I… Can't say I understand, Eragon. Not fully. But… You're a good la— kid. A good… A good kid,” he continued slowly. “You work hard, and I'd always thought you seemed… Lost. Like something had you stuck. Do you think this is it?”

“I do,” Eragon whispered softly. “I really, really do.”

“Then that's that,” Garrow said firmly. “However I'll still want your help on the farm, just as Marian did before… Well, you know.”

“You'll probably need to handle the uh… Being a girl bits… On your own,” Roran told her. “Those herbs and stuff, I can help with if it's before first frost, maybe. So long as they're not deep in the Spine. But… Sorry there cousin, neither of us knows anything about being a girl.”

Eragon managed to smile, feeling a massive wave of relief. She got up and immediately hugged Garrow tight as she could.

“Thank you,” she said fiercely, letting go before long. “I mean it. Thank you. And… Besides just using ‘she’ and ‘her’ and stuff, and a girl’s name when I know which one I'd want, I'll handle what I can on my own.”

Garrow seemed more than a bit ruffled, but he just nodded and brushed himself off. “Yes, well… That might not be best… Ahh, if Marian were here she'd know how to teach you, but…” He scratched at his beard, brow deeply furrowed.

Roran snapped his fingers. “Katrina! I bet she has some old dresses that don't fit her, and she could even teach you how to be a girl,” he offered, grinning. “Besides, I doubt she'd be bothered. Sweetest girl there is, her.”

Roran was next to get an immensely tight hug from Eragon, though he hugged her back. “Thank you. Thank you so, so, so much, Roran,” she said, beaming when they separated.

Roran chuckled, ruffling her hair. “Hey, I'd been wanting to see how she can get along with you and Dad anyway. This seems like a perfect opportunity,” he replied. “We can go talk to her the day after tomorrow, break the news and see what we can do.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Eragon replied giddily, though then she realized something and winced. “Sorry I'd be intruding on your time with Katrina.”

Roran patted her shoulder. “It's fine. I'll be leaving for Therinsford soon enough, and I'd rather Katrina have the company than not. There are few other girls her age in Carvahall.”

“Apparently there is one more, now,” Garrow mused before he frowned then. “But there're also boys around Eragon’s age. Hm.”

“And I doubt Sloan’s the only one who’d give her grief,” Roran pointed out.

Confused, Eragon looked between her cousin and uncle. She could tell they had come to some kind of agreement, but hadn't the slightest idea what it was. Though the validation of her identity certainly felt nice.

After a moment Roran and Garrow nodded, with the latter looking thoughtful. “Well… Seeing as this is an important thing - I think we can spare a bit of extra coin when you two head to town. Might as well have Katrina help Eragon get something of hi— her own,” he said, catching himself with a stern look that seemed aimed at himself.

“I bet we can sell some of your old clothes too, cousin. There's a couple lads that probably wouldn't mind buying them off us. Maybe not right away, though,” Roran added, seeming thoughtful.

At this point, Eragon was completely overwhelmed. She gave Roran another of her tightest hugs, and then gave Garrow the same, blubbering her thanks all the while.

Despite his usual reservations on showing affection, Garrow patted her head as she let go. “Aye, you're a girl alright. Don't believe I've ever seen Roran get emotional or… Affectionate… quite like that,” he said with a vaguely amused expression.

“Not even when I was a toddler?” Roran asked, surprised.

“Eh, with your mother perhaps. But men aren't very affectionate with one another,” Garrow replied breezily. Then he sighed and stood up. “Well, I believe today’s been exciting enough. I'll be off to bed. You two had better turn in soon as well.”

“Yes, father.”

“Yes, Uncle Garrow.”

The man huffed a bit before he lumbered off. It wasn't long before Roran did the same, telling Eragon to get her sleep, since there was plenty to get done in the morning.

For Eragon herself, she doubted she'd ever gone to her room quite so pleased.

Getting to sleep had already been rough after having to change and forcing herself not to think how un-womanly her body was - she could head to the Spine soon enough. She'd already checked the recipe and hadn't taken too long to figure out what she'd need, of which the Spine was overflowing. It would be easy and quick to get stuff done. She would be fine.

But then she'd been woken up by tapping. With a frustrated huff, Eragon tossed her covers off herself and sat up groggily. “Roran, ‘m trying to sleep,” she mumbled. But when she cracked her eyes open at the continued tapping… Nothing. No Roran.

“What…?” She muttered, cautiously getting up. She tiptoed her way to the door only to hear a sort of muffled squeak… From behind.

Her hunter’s instincts kicked in and she whirled around, bent low and arms going in position as if she were to loose an arrow. Though, her bow and quiver were hung up in the room. So in reality her arms were just held at silly-looking angles.

But there was nothing. No rat, mouse, or even bird at the window. Slowly she rose until more tapping and a squeak emanated from…

The stone?

Thoroughly baffled, she approached slowly and saw the stone was actually beginning to rock back and forth. Alarmed, she picked it up - flinching when she felt something inside tap against her hand - before setting it down on the floor in the moonlight. Brow deeply furrowed, she sat and watched it like a hawk.

An egg. It had to be an egg. Perhaps of some kind of reptile. She'd never even considered it could be an egg, especially with how none of Merlock’s tools could so much as scratch it. But here it was, the shiny blue fragmented by a spiderweb of white as it rocked and shook due to the writhing of whatever beastie it contained.

A chip fell off the egg, then another. More squeaking as some sort of nose just as blue as the egg poked at the hole, nostrils flaring. Transfixed, Eragon watched as the egg fragmented more and more, tiny chips flaking away with each press.

Until finally a very large chunk chipped off, allowing her to see an odd, almost serpentine head coated in blue scales poke its way through. When the beastie opened its eyes, she saw they were blue with slitted pupils. It tilted its head upon seeing her and began to crawl out of the egg. Swiftly enough Eragon’s breath was knocked out of her lungs as she saw what the beastie was.

A serpentine body covered in scales, four legs firm enough to support its weight, and a long tail. Eragon could almost have mistaken its body as being sort of feline - well, scaled rather than furred - if it weren't for the leathery wings sprouting from just behind its forelegs’ shoulders.

“A dragon,” Eragon whispered, eyes wide. She'd only ever heard stories from Brom, the old storyteller. As best she knew, dragons were basically extinct save the horrific Shruikan, Emperor Galbatorix’s own dragon. But here one was, right in front of her. A newborn.

Well, that explained why Merlock hadn't a clue what the baby’s egg was. She doubted he'd ever seen a dragon egg in his life. Garrow and Roran being equally bemused was similarly unsurprising.

She reached out tentatively and had to suppress a yelp when she felt a burning shock on her hand when the dragon nuzzled against it. The dragon blinked at her and snorted, but Eragon was wide-eyed as she saw a silvery patch on her palm. The very one that had seemed paler and sort of off recently.

Ever since she picked up the egg. Yeah, she was an idiot. The worrisome part is that something told her she wasn't going to get much luck if she tried to go back. Blast.

She shivered when she felt… something… press against her mind. She felt… Hunger? But… No, that couldn't be…

She looked at the dragon as the pieces fell into place. “You're… Hungry?” She asked.

The dragon snorted as if to say ‘took you long enough’.

“Uh… Alright. I think… Wait here?” She asked. The dragon stared at her and Eragon hoped she'd be able to be quiet enough that nobody would hear her. She sighed and shook her head before cautiously standing up.

Her door opened with a soft creak that made her wince, but when she glanced back the dragon hadn't moved and just flicked its tail.

From what she knew, most lizards, snakes, and other reptiles mostly ate fruit and meat. Considering their adult size was ‘great’ and ‘huge’ according to Brom, it wasn't unreasonable (she hoped) to hope the dragon would be able to ingest some meat. Though to be safe, she decided she'd grab a bit of goat’s milk in a bowl and see if the dragon went for that instead.

She hoped she'd be able to ask Brom more about dragons soon. Because the answers had just gone from a wonderful curiosity to being vital to the survival of a life she had a feeling she was now fully responsible for.

Blast.

The bowl was easy enough to fill with perhaps a half inch of milk. She reasoned taking too much would be a waste if the dragon didn't drink it, and if she needed more she could get it. For meat, she took some of the venison leftover from dinner and used a knife to pare off and dice a small cut into cubes.

“Hopefully it eats some of this,” she muttered to herself before only briefly hesitating to grab a few slices of dried apple as well. Just to be safe. Who knows, maybe dragons ate meat and fruit? Certainly not her, and it wasn't like Brom was readily available.

And even if he was, she highly doubted the storyteller’s knowledge extended to diet. She'd be on her own there and would just have to hope the oddly-intelligent dragon would know enough to not eat something dangerous.

Fingers crossed.

The stairs mercifully remained quiet as she carefully made her way up them. Nobody woke - though there were plenty of snores coming from Garrow and Roran’s rooms alike - so she knew she was in the clear as she slipped into her own bedroom. The dragon was still there.

Well, that dismissed her subdued hope that maybe she'd been hallucinating. She closed the door quietly and then crouched down, setting the cubes of meat, slices of apple, and bowl of milk on separate spots. “Wasn't sure what you'd like, so I brought some variety,” she admitted to the dragon, feeling a little silly talking to an animal.

Though something told her this ‘animal’ wasn't like any other. It was a dragon. An inherently magical creature. And magic was something she didn't understand whatsoever.

The dragon peered at the options for a moment before it first approached the milk, lapping it up much as a cat would. Well, that was something. She figured the dragon would also probably be able to drink water, but milk had nutrients - as far as she knew, most babies drank milk because of that - so logic stood to reason that dragons might.

…Were dragons reptiles? Thinking about it, she was fairly sure only animals like deer and cats drank milk. Ones where the females had breasts. But dragons… Didn't? Probably? But also dragons could fly and she'd never heard of a snake or whatever that could fly. Only birds, though it lacked the feathers of a bird.

But also the dragon had scales. And only fish and reptiles had scales… Right? So then what the hells did it classify as?

“I'm so damn confused,” she muttered, running a hand through her dark brown curls. Hopefully those would grow soon enough. She'd rather like long hair. It was shaggy as it was, and generally Katrina, Brigit, Elain, and other women - including Vera - kept their hair well-managed. Perhaps she could ask Katrina for advice? Or Ingrid.

As it was, she'd probably be known as a girl to all of Carvahall in time. Talk about a vexing notion.

She was shaken from her thoughts when she saw the dragon amble to the dried apple slices and sniff at them. It tilted its head before snapping them up. It didn't seem… Upset? But when it then began to eat the cubes of meat it certainly seemed the happiest yet, chirping happily as it licked its chops.

Satisfied, it crawled over to Eragon and onto her lap. She jolted at first but relaxed when she noticed the dragon was curling up to sleep. Well, it was a baby, and most babies just ate, pooped, and slept.

She'd need to take care of this for the time being. There was a section of forest close by, just before the more treacherous terrain of the Spine began. She could perhaps craft something akin to a doghouse like what Byrd kept for his mutts. Could even ask him advice on how to build one? Well, that could be risky. Eragon had never had a dog.

But Marian had once shown her how to build a little birdhouse. If she accounted for size she could probably make something suitable for the dragon…

Assuming it didn't burn the thing down. But admittedly by the time she could breathe fire she'd hopefully be capable of flight or at least otherwise capable of protecting herself. Not too many predators prowled the woods and Spine, but there were enough to make the concept of a baby dragon all alone without shelter a little anxiety-inducing.

Still…

“Guess both our lives started today, in their own ways,” she murmured softly to the dragon, tentatively stroking the newborn as it slept. The scales were smooth one way, but sharp the other. That would be… unwise to theoretically ride without some form of saddle.

Oh well. That would surely be months if not years away, so she was hardly fussed. As she continued to pet the dragon, gently lifting it onto her bed, her hand tingled a little and she felt oddly comforted.

“Good night, little one. Welcome to the world,” she murmured just before her own eyes fluttered shut, dreams of dragons and dresses awaiting her tired mind.

Chapter Text

CW: Coming Out & Related Anxiety, Alcoholism & Domestic Violence References

~~~~~ Eragon ~~~~~

II: Being A Woman 101

~~~~~ Eragon ~~~~~

October 12th, Year 7999

Carvahall

“Calm down, Eragon. If you keep trembling and shaking, Katrina’s going to think you've caught cold, girl,” Roran gently scolded her, a hand on Eragon’s back as they headed towards Horst and Elain’s, where Katrina had agreed to meet them.

“Sorry. Just… Nerves. This is new to me, too,” she muttered, not sure how else to describe it. “Plus… Well, you know I'd never speak ill of Katrina, but even you didn't know what to think at first, now did you?”

Roran sighed a bit, shrugging his shoulders. “Perhaps not, but if we explain it I doubt she'd mind. Katrina’s about the most open-minded person there is of those I've met. Remember Hurle and Phineas?” Eragon nodded. “Most the village didn't care for their ‘kind’, and while Father and I didn't feel one way or another, Katrina said she was happy they found one another.”

“Wait… Oh! So… I didn't know two men could…” She mumbled, surprised.

“Frankly, neither did I. But I suppose it isn't so strange. Men can feel familial love towards women, why not romantic love towards other men?” He asked.

“That… Makes sense. I suppose that could probably go the other way, too. Two women, like how Vera said a woman might wish to be a man,” she mused.

“...Thinking you'd still prefer women?” Roran asked softly.

“I… Don't know,” she admitted honestly. “You know I've had my fancies here and there, but they’ve always been little more than fancies. Never felt one towards a boy. Perhaps that will change when my body does.”

“Perhaps,” her cousin agreed slowly as they approached the smithy. “But if it does not… I still support you. Alright?”

“...Thank you, Roran,” she said softly. He squeezed her shoulder and then knocked on the door of the smithy.

“Come in!” Horst’s voice called out.

“Here we go,” Roran mused, guiding Eragon inside. “Horst! How are you?”

“Well enough,” Horst replied, giving the two smiles. “Katrina’s in the back with Elain. I'm assuming Eragon’s here to perhaps pick up some skills in the smithy? I wouldn't mind putting him to work.”

Eragon swallowed the lump in her throat. “Not quite, actually. Uh… I had something I wanted to talk to Katrina about, and Roran’s mostly here to support me,” she explained before hesitating briefly on what Garrow had suggested the night prior. “And I think it would be good for you, Elain, and your sons to be there as well. It's… Complicated, but important.”

Horst arched an eyebrow, watching her for a moment. “Hm… Fair enough. And I'm guessing Sloan not being here is intentional?” Eragon nodded and Horst set down the rag he was using to wipe his hands. “Fair enough. In you get.” He then opened the door to his home behind the smithy.

Eragon and Roran thanked him and slipped through, heading to the living area. Katrina and Elain were already there, with neither Albriech nor Baldor in sight.

“Ah! Roran and Eragon. Good to see you boys,” Elain greeted them as she stood, her pregnancy beginning to show. She gave them both hugs, chuckling a little. “My, you've both grown.”

“Thank you, Elain,” Roran told her. “But don't leave on our account. There's something Eragon wished to talk to everyone about, and those here are those we trust,” he added, gently pushing Eragon forward.

“Good to see you, Elain,” she managed, emotions causing her rapidly beating heart to feel tight in her chest.

“Hm… Are you alright, dear? You look awful pale,” Elain said, fretting.

“Huh? Doorway’s crowded,” Baldor said from behind them. Eragon and Roran made to get out of the way, allowing Horst and his sons to get inside. “‘Lo Eragon, Roran.”

“Baldor, Albriech,” Roran greeted them, shaking hands. “So, everyone’s here… And I… Don't really know how to start this.”

Eragon rubbed her arm a bit, nervous even as she worked herself up to it while Elain sat cautiously, eyes on Eragon, likely sensing her worry. Katrina was looking between the cousins, seeming confused.

“So… Do you all remember Harmon? The trader?” She decided to begin.

“Aye,” Horst agreed. “He was missing, didn't see hide nor hair of him these last few days. Why?”

“He was there,” Eragon explained, “Just… Different. Did anyone meet a woman called Vera manning Harmon’s old stall?”

“Oh! I spoke to her. She was quite nice,” Katrina piped up. “Knew things just as well as Harmon did, and looked quite alike to him. Are they siblings?”

Eragon shook her head. “Vera is Harmon. She… She realized she had the mind of a woman but the body of a man,” she explained.

“But… her body was of a woman’s?” Katrina said, bemused.

“Thanks to herbal concoctions,” Roran cut in gently. “Got a recipe in Teirm or somesuch. Brews it up and ingests it every so often, and it transforms her body over time much as ours do simply by aging through to manhood - or womanhood,” he added, gesturing to Elain and Katrina.

“Then… What name does she - is it she? - use?” Albriech asked, seeming to slowly connect the dots.

“She prefers Vera, and she,” Eragon clarified. “And… She isn't hurting anyone. It just makes her happy. It hurt her to be called ‘man’, ‘sir’, and so on. But being called ‘miss’ or ‘she’ makes her happy. I uh. Asked.”

“Suppose that comes as no surprise - Eragon asking questions,” Baldor teased, causing her to flush. “Well… That's definitely new to me. Kind of reminds me about when father told us about Hurle and Phineas.”

“Aha! Same here,” Roran said, seeming pleased.

“It's definitely strange, but I suppose if she isn't harming anyone it isn't my business,” Horst said with a shrug. “So long as she's still respectful whenever she comes up for tools or whatever, I've no quarrel with her.”

“And… Why is this important for you to tell us, Eragon?” Elain asked, her gaze piercing.

Moment of truth.

Eragon tugged at the fingers of one hand, painfully swallowing the knot in her throat so she could say it. “I-I feel the same,” she said, voice cracking a bit. She cleared her throat and continued. “I… I hate being called ‘boy’ and ‘him’. It… It hurts. Vera… She let me try being called a girl, and it just… Felt right. I… I told Roran and Garrow that night, and they… They said I should-should… Um… Well… I c-can’t learn h-how… Wh-what to… do from, well… M-men,” she managed, her shaking and trembling returning despite Roran’s earlier reassurances.

Why did she feel scared? She knew these people - trusted them. Blast it, she and Roran both had been consoled by Elain after Aunt Marian died! But… But she was scared. She didn't know what they'd say, do, or feel. This was an unknown, and Vera’s words of caution hadn't stopped ringing in her head.

Yes, she was a girl and she knew that… But what if the people in her life refused to help her? Refused to believe and try to understand? It was one thing for Vera, a trader who visited Carvahall only so often, to be a woman born as a man - but Eragon was someone they knew. And that made it different, she felt, in terms of what people thought.

“I see…” Horst mused slowly, seeming taken aback - the others were no less surprised. “So… Hm… Do you have a different name?” He asked a bit awkwardly.

“I've… Um, been thinking on some, but I only just… Well, figured it out the day before last. So…” She shrugged a bit. “I don't know. I suppose it would be a bit like taking time to decide a baby’s name?”

“Makes sense to me,” Elain agreed with a small smile. “As handsome a name Eragon is… I do believe it hardly suits a young woman,” she said lightly.

“It does sound a bit off for a girl, doesn't it?” Katrina said with a small smile of her own. “I won't pretend I understand how this works, but… I've never thought of you as cruel, unkind, or a pervert, so I know this is genuine. Thank you for trusting us,” she told Eragon, a warm and supportive feeling in her voice.

Roran eyed Albriech and Baldor. “And you two?”

Albriech raised his hands up in surrender. “No problems here. Can't rightly say I understand it neither, but it isn't as though I can see much harm to it,” he said with a shrug. “‘Sides, I've got my own troubles. I don't see a reason to get worked up about anyone else.”

“Same here,” Baldor added readily. “Long as y’don’t mean anything untoward, why would I be bothered?”

“Un… Untoward? Also, what does pervert mean?” Eragon asked, feeling pleased at the comments but also more than a little stymied.

Horst snorted and shook his head. “I'm surprised you ever manage to hunt anything with that innocence, lad— er, lass,” Horst corrected himself. “Blast that'll take a bit of getting used to.”

“Say, Eragon… Are you keeping this quiet?” Albriech asked curiously. “Or are you planning to sort of let everyone know? Not saying you need to make an announcement or nothing, but…”

“I…” Eragon faltered, a bit unsure. “I'm not rightly sure yet, to be honest. I haven't started those concoctions yet, but Roran and I are going to gather the ingredients soon. Much as we can before it begins to freeze so I can make it through winter, but that takes time to take effect, and… Admittedly, I have no idea how I'd feel about acting a boy once I start to learn how to act like a girl,” she explained. “I mean, even just the ‘boy’ and such I get from people who don't know stings a little, so…”

“One step at a time,” Elain said gently before she then took an evaluating look at Roran. “You'd better have a talk with Horst about how to look after a young woman in the family. He's a sister in Therinsford, he can teach you some basics. Now go on - men, out. Horst, boys, go on and take Roran with you. Katrina and I will get Eragon sorted.”

Roran seemed a bit bemused for a moment. “I… Well, I don't disagree, but Father had a sister as well. I had to be related to Eragon somehow,” he protested feebly.

“Aye, and Garrow’s about as forthcoming as blood is from a stone,” Horst said with a chuckle. “Come on, lad. Plenty to learn.” He gently pushed Roran out, waving his sons after him. They waved farewells to Eragon before exiting and closing the door behind them.

Which left Eragon with Katrina and Elain.

Saying she wasn't nervous would have been a bald-faced lie. “Um… I-I’ll be honest, I'm… Not sure what to do now,” she admitted with an ashamed flush.

“I'm not surprised. If Garrow or Roran had ever given you the slightest inkling of what being a woman was like, I'd eat my apron,” Elain said drily before gesturing to one of the seats. “For starters, sit down and calm your nerves a bit so we can talk about what you need to learn and how you can pay me back for the time so Garrow doesn't harp on you about charity.”

Eragon flushed and sat as ordered, shifting a bit uncomfortably when she saw the two look at her with a bit of scrutiny.

“Well, for starters, you sit like a boy,” Katrina said with a small laugh. “Try crossing your legs - at the thighs, the ankles or knees. See if you can mimic this,” she said before gesturing to her own legs, which were indeed… Probably crossed? It was a tad hard to tell with the dress she wore.

Eragon complied, wincing and shifting a tiny bit as she cautiously moved her legs so as to not induce anything… Painful. “Like this?” She asked, glancing at her legs. She'd put the right over the left, taking a moment to ensure they were indeed crossed at the thighs rather than knees or ankles, since the other two would be easier but this way felt more comfortable when she was cautious to not pinch anything.

“Yes, that looks about right,” Katrina said approvingly. “Posture’s not bad, actually - maybe all the archery helps? Though you shouldn't hunch your shoulders, it's a very… Well, immature behavior more than anything, and makes you look anxious.”

“Does… Does that matter so much?” Eragon asked, bemused even as she complied and lowered her shoulders a bit awkwardly. She still fidgeted, of course.

“Well, the fidgeting’s not so bad,” Elain said after a moment. “But yes, it does. If you truly wish to be a girl, Eragon… Well, one thing you'll need to get accustomed to is generally needing to not upset the men.”

“O-oh… That…” She winced, understanding why. “Garrow taught me… A little. Men aren't supposed to hit women because men are stronger… Guess I'll probably get weaker when I take those herbs,” she said sadly.

“It's not unlikely,” Katrina agreed. “But even besides that… Well, as much as women are mocked for being ‘sensitive’, we also are less likely to… Well… Get violent when angered.”

The understanding hit. “Like when they get drunk at the Seven Sheaves,” she said bitterly.

“As an example,” Elain agreed. “As a boy, you've always been sweet and kind, and I don't expect that to change none now you're a girl, but Garrow protected you as a favor to Selena. Guarded you from some of the more unfortunate sides of life. Women… We aren't treated quite so equally as men, at least here in the Empire. Horst is good to me, Garrow was always a gentleman with Marian, and I know your cousin’s going to be just the same with Katrina. But not all men are like that - and I know exactly who you're thinking of, but don't say it.”

“I…” Eragon winced, starting to get it. “Have to be careful not to speak my mind, don't I?”

“Yes,” Katrina agreed. “In this case, it's a matter of etiquette - I know my father isn't the most kind of men, but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt to hear others say such. How would you feel if someone called Roran a fool, or Garrow a miser?”

“Upset,” Eragon admitted quickly. “I… Care about them, and hearing that kind of thing upsets me. I'm sorry, Katrina, I…”

“You were playing the part of a man,” Elain said firmly. “You had more freedom and less awareness. Women… We've to be more crafty and tactful.”

“Crafty and tactful?” Eragon echoed, bemused.

“Speaking your mind is situation-based, and you've struggled with reading faces and bodies regardless,” Elain explained as she stood and began to rummage through a nearby basket. “Sometimes we're able to speak our minds, depending on the company and their moods, other times we've to be cautious, watching our tongue so as to not anger the men or upset other women. Katrina can't come here if she were to say she's meeting Roran, for starters - he and Sloan are at odds, more oft than not. But if she says she's sewing or knitting with me?” She pulled out some fabric and what Eragon recognized as sewing needles. “Sloan won't think twice, because he trusts her.”

“Of course, if he ever came by and saw me with Roran, that would be trouble. So I only meet Roran on the days the shop’s most busy. Otherwise, I really am sewing,” Katrina admitted ruefully, accepting some fabric and needles from Elain.

“Sewing, by the way, is one of the many things you've to learn to become a woman of a house - bride or otherwise,” Elain added. “And frankly, I believe everyone should know some things, hence why my boys can patch holes or sew buttons, or cook some meat so they won't go and starve themselves.”

“Oh. I know a bit about cooking thanks to Aunt Marian - Roran’s… Not the best with a knife and Garrow never seasons anything,” she admitted, cautiously choosing her words since Katrina was there, and besides - even just the usual disparaging jokes left a bad taste in her mouth after what she'd learned so far. Based on how Katrina beamed at her, she must've done right.

It'd take time to not have pauses or to think hard, she wagered, but then again, this was her first day of properly trying to be a girl, as opposed to Katrina and Elain’s sixteen and twenty-some years.

“By the way, seeing as I know as well, I'll take on your education,” Elain added. “Katrina’s welcome to help, but I've enough time on my hands I can teach you - and you can repay us by helping with housework. Tell Garrow that much and I wager he'll accept it.” She then handed a bundle of fabric to Eragon, though no needles.

“O-okay. How often are you comfortable with me visiting?” She asked a bit awkwardly, not sure if it was something to rephrase. Thinking before she spoke was making it hard to tell what was okay and what wasn't.

“Every day Garrow doesn't have need of you, that you can make it by,” Elain said firmly. “And don't you dare go anywhere alone ever again, even in broad daylight, do you hear me?”

“I… Wh-why?” Eragon asked, alarmed at her suddenly quite serious tone.

Elain grimaced. “Because a woman on her own cannot protect herself. While Roran remains in Carvahall, you ask him to escort you, and when he leaves for Therinsford I'll arrange for Albriech or Baldor - preferably both - to pick you up and take you back.”

“But… I can shoot a bow and arrow?” Eragon asked, now thoroughly confused and a little upset. “Am… Am I not allowed to hunt anymore?”

Elain sighed and crouched, gently taking Eragon’s hands in her own after she shifted the fabrics to rest in the girl’s lap. “Hunting is one thing, Eragon, and perfectly fine since I doubt there’s another soul in Palancar Valley that knows the Spine half as well as you. But tell me… How often have you heard of a woman raising her hand against a man?”

“I… Not often,” she admitted, swallowing a lump in her throat and blinking back tears.

“And of the few times you have… What did the men say of those women?” She said grimly.

Eragon winced as she understood now. “Nothing polite,” she admitted softly.

“Exactly. And it doesn't have to be a future husband, either. If a woman attacks a man…” She winced and looked pained. “We are ridiculed and often harmed for ‘not knowing our place’. If you're truly serious about being a girl, dear… You need to know how to live as one. This may be scary to think about, but we genuinely say these things for your benefit and protection.”

Eragon sniffled a little, nodding. “I… I understand,” she said softly. “And… I am serious, I just… I'm a little scared, and… And I feel awful for how bad the both of you have it. Same for Birgit, Calitha… Every woman in Alagaesia, I suppose.”

Elain’s expression shifted into a kind smile and she brushed some of Eragon’s tears away. “Aye, it's a sad state, but… Things will change one day, as they always do. The most we can do is bide our time, care for one another and our families, and trust in the good men and stronger women to protect us and perhaps help that change along. But for now, you've lessons to be taught in etiquette, and required skills to boot,” she added, smiling kindly.

Eragon nodded, managing to smile back. “Thank you, Elain,” she said a bit emotionally. Then her smile became a bit more genuine, “Though… Being a bride is hopefully a ways off - I just… Suppose I haven’t met anyone who catches my eye in Carvahall.”

Elain patted Eragon’s cheek as she stood. “Might be you won't. Perhaps it'll be in Therinsford, or knowing the way you are, perhaps you'll join the traders and find someone in Teirm,” she said wryly. “So long as you know what you must and keep yourself safe, you're welcome to become a spinster one day if you care to.”

Katrina hummed thoughtfully from where she was fiddling with some material, though she'd not once taken her eyes off Eragon and Elain. “I'm curious, Eragon. Do you still like girls, or do you prefer boys now you're a girl?” She asked before flushing a bit. “Sorry for being blunt, it's just… You seemed a bit unsure whenever Elain said bride, but similarly so when she said spinster.”

Eragon gave a rueful smile. “You and Roran are well-suited. He asked the same while we were coming up. But… Well, to repeat the answer, I don't know. It may change when I start those herbs, but it may not. There's… A lot Vera and I didn't have time to discuss. Including, well… More… Private issues,” she admitted with a more burning flush.

“Priv… Oh!” Katrina’s flush matched Eragon’s own quickly. “I suppose that would add a level of… Complication,” she said delicately.

Elain shook her head, sighing in a long-suffering way. “Well, I'll tell you same as I told Hurle and Phineas - so long as you're happy, be with whomever you like. Though for your sake, dear, I hope you at least stay close to family or find some men you trust for the sake of safety,” she said, wagging a finger at Eragon. “But we've spoken on this long enough. Those are some clothes I've given you - old things I've not fit in since I was a girl. You're close enough in size it should fit, and if Garrow throws a fit you can ask him if he thinks it appropriate for a young woman to wear rags.”

“Oh! Uh… Okay,” Eragon agreed before she blushed. “Um… I… Don't know how to put them on, and… Where should I…?”

“You can change in Albriech’s room, right over there,” Elain said gently, guiding Eragon to a room with an open door that seemed rather lightly furnished. “As for how to put them on, I can show you if you're not uncomfortable with that - but blind guiding isn't so easy. My mother tried with me and it became a bit of a mess,” she said drily. “But if you're fussed about your body, I understand.”

“I… It would probably be better if, um… You show me,” Eragon admitted quietly. “That way in the future I can do it on my own.”

“Good girl, now in you get,” Elain said as she gently pushed Eragon inside.

She entered and heard Elain close the door behind her, then the woman took the bundle from her arms and laid each garment on the made bed. A sort of thin off-white shirt without sleeves, similarly colored sort of loose and flowy pants that looked as though they'd perhaps reach just past her knees, and what was unmistakably a dress, being light blue with a dark brown apron attached to the front, sleeves that would likely reach to just above her elbows, and a skirt that would probably extend to mid-calf if not a bit lower.

“Before it's time for you to leave, I'll have Katrina take your measurements, and you can see about getting together what money you can so you can buy some clothes of your own, but this should give you a bit of an idea of what to look for,” Elain explained. “If circumstances allow, I'll have Roran and Albriech escort us both so I can help you with picking colors, warmer clothes, and the like. But for now you have your undershirt, bloomers, and a dress meant for light work and day-wear. Shoes or boots will take a bit to sort, since you really need a cobbler for such… But this should sort you for now.”

“O-okay… And… Do I need to take everything off?” Eragon asked with a nervous flush. Now she was so aware of her body, she didn't even like seeing it to shower and had looked away when changing the day before and the morning before coming up with Roran.

Elain gave a soft laugh. “That does happen to be how changing clothes works, girl,” she said drily.

“R-right,” Eragon murmured before she walked up beside the bed and first slipped off her tunic. She pointedly didn't look down as she set it on a different spot of the bed and then stepped out of her shoes. Then she unlaced and nervously slipped out of her breeches, eyes never looking down nor at Elain.

“Are you okay, Eragon? You look pale,” Elain asked, looking worried.

Eragon squirmed a bit. “It's… My body. I… It's painful to look at and just… See how… boyish it is,” she admitted. “I just… I feel like everything about it is… wrong.”

“Ah… I see,” Elain murmured. “So this is probably what that mind of a girl, body of a boy thing feels like, then?” She guessed.

“Probably,” Eragon agreed. “The herbs will help, but… It takes time, according to the recipe. Years.”

“As it does for women whose minds and bodies match,” Elain pointed out. “If it takes time, it takes time. If it helps, your body isn't as manly as you feel. You're still a child, one who - by perhaps fortune rather than what we previously believed - has taken a great deal of time to begin maturity in any way beyond getting smarter and a bit taller. With the right clothes… And as I said, those clothes should fit you - they certainly did me when I was around that age.”

Eragon smiled. “Thanks… Um, speaking of, before I take my trousers off… Do the strings on the - bloomers? - go in front or back?”

“Front, silly girl,” Elain said with a chuckle. “They're the same as breeches otherwise. I'll turn around so you can handle that yourself.” She then did just that.

“Thanks,” Eragon told her before taking a deep breath and swiftly dropping her trousers. She immediately placed them atop the pile of her old clothes before picking up the bloomers a bit cautiously. Another deep breath and she properly oriented them before slipping into them, one leg after another. They were surprisingly fitted, but not so much so she could see her privates. It was as though there were trousers built-in.

“Um, they're on,” she said, managing the laces as she said so.

“Let's see… Ah, good. I picked a pair I once prepared but never used for my moon’s blood, since I figured they'd cover you up well and good,” she explained. “Bit of thicker material inside, good for absorbing what it must.”

“Ah… Guess I won't deal with that, probably,” Eragon mused, not sure if she felt pleased or upset.

“Ah, don't be so certain. Gertrude was born barren, not even shedding moon’s blood, so she told me. Still suffered the other unpleasantness,” Elain said with a dry smirk. “Hope those herbs help you handle pain, girl.”

“O-oh… Is it that bad?” She asked, surprised.

“Mmm, for some. And congratulations, by being a girl you get to hear such talk - so don't make that queasy face unless it's something other women get shocked at. Otherwise it's supposed to be normal,” she pointed out. “Not fun, but normal.” She then picked up the undershirt and handed it to Eragon. “Might be loose in the chest, but that just means room to grow,” she teased.

Eragon managed to not blush too much before she put the shirt on as ordered. No laces this time, but Elain directed her to adjust it and make sure it was as neat as could be. Fussing over one’s appearance was a habit every girl learned - something Eragon thought she might enjoy a bit. Even just the different fabric and way the clothes sat on her body had her feeling warm and smiling giddily.

“By the way, generally women don't discuss moon’s blood often unless they need to complain, have some form of abnormality, or it is too late, in which case pregnancy may be discussed,” Elain added as she adjusted the dress.

“Did conversation always have this many rules?” Eragon groused good-naturedly.

“Yes,” Elain said more amusedly. “Alas, men like Horst and Garrow are of few words, and you are a girl of many questions. Generally about how things function or dragons. You want to talk about other topics? You need to know what to say and when to say it.”

“Alright then,” Eragon murmured before she took a deep breath. “I suppose it's time for the dress then.”

Elain chuckled. “That it is. You need to know how to put it on and take it off, so we'll do both before fighting with the laces in front,” she explained before she pointed to the dress. “The upper part is loosened, so you should be able to step into it. Take care not to trip on the skirt.”

Cautiously, Eragon lifted the dress and lowered it enough to step one leg into it, then the other. Elain didn't remark when the hem of the skirt touched the floor, but Eragon worked to keep it as high up as she could before she lifted it up.

“Let's see here,” Elain murmured, adjusting the dress here and there. Eragon's arms were pushed through the sleeves and the part where the skirt met the torso was gently tugged on to straighten it. “Good. That's what it feels like on. Don't forget it. Now just grab one sleeve and pull one arm out at a time and then pull the skirt down so you can step out.”

Eragon did so, feeling a little silly but admittedly appreciating the advice since she was nervous she would make a mistake. After Elain had her step back into the dress and got it up, the woman lifted her hands up to show Eragon the laces.

“Can you handle thinner laces like this on your own? They’re a bit less sturdy than with breeches.” Elain asked.

“Um… Probably?” Eragon replied. Elain looked skeptical but waved Eragon on and smiled when the younger girl successfully tied them. “Oh, yes.”

“Lovely. You can practice lacing it up at home, but it's the same tie as breeches. Tighten-” Eragon gave a small squeak of surprise when Elain untied and then tightened the laces, “-and then knot. There we are, good and tight. We're nothing fancy in Carvahall, so I doubt you'll ever run into a corset. But if you do, good luck - I've never used one myself.”

“It… Feels nice,” Eragon murmured softly. She looked down and… Liked what she saw. The cut that accentuated her collar and flared skirt that made it seem as though she had hips, how with clothes that fit snugly her shoulders didn't seem big at all (small, actually), and it was so soft and flowy. She spun in a small circle, marveling at how it felt. “I… I definitely like these better than breeches.”

“Good thing it's yours then, eh? Now come on, gather your old things into a pile so we can go out and let Katrina have a look at you. Then maybe we can see about figuring a lesson plan,” she mused. “Etiquette, body language, how to talk…”

While Elain muttered to herself, Eragon couldn't shake the broad smile she still bore, putting her old clothes together in a small bundle.

Well, she had her answer to one question. Carvahall would see her in a dress soon enough.

Nerve-wracking as it was, she couldn't help feeling… Well. Euphoric.

Chapter Text

CW: Transphobia, Internalized Transphobia, Misogyny

~~~~~ Eragon ~~~~~

III: Brewing, Brewing, Brewing

~~~~~ Eragon ~~~~~

October 19th, 7999

Eragon was being kept rather busy these days. Between helping out at the farm, her ‘girl training’ as Elain and Katrina called it, the reactions of the village to her new identity, and of course the baby dragon demanding a great deal of attention, it was a surprise she managed to juggle it all.

Then again, the small waves of joy she felt being called ‘girl’, ‘lass’, and ‘missie’ were doing wonders for her mood. That and she wasn't often exposed to other villagers what with now being consistently guarded by Roran, Garrow, or one of Horst’s boys. Not that it didn't make sense, as even Gertrude rarely walked out and about on her own, and Katrina was always escorted to Elain’s by Sloan and home by Albriech or occasionally Roran if he kept away from Sloan’s sharp eye.

Though of course, hearing comments from those like an irate Sloan naming her ‘freak’ and ‘deluded’ certainly stung a great deal, though Sloan himself seemed to just pretend she had ceased to exist. A lot of the slander she got came from the more ornery ones such as Birgit and Quimby, but others like Morn and Calitha seemed to not care and called her a girl just as she pleased. It seemed to some her earnest demeanor and now-avid refusal to wear pants had done the trick.

Trying to change back into breeches had been upsetting, so now she only ever wore one of the dresses - or nightgowns, when sleeping - she had either been given, traded for, or purchased. Her wardrobe was a bit shy of volume compared to what it had been as a boy, but that made sense, seeing as her boy’s clothes had been accumulated over a longer time, and girl’s clothes seemed to be of better quality and thus worth more than boy’s clothes.

It was confusing stuff, but she was committing as much as she could to memory. She was also being kind to herself - at Elain and Katrina’s insistence - and understood that it took time for any woman to learn what she was learning. She'd just had a late start.

Working the farm had changed in an unexpected way. She was now expected to handle breakfast and supper, which was managed easily enough since she prepared one with dawn and the other with dusk. Besides, she'd been doing a lot of the cooking anyway, and both Roran and Garrow preferred to eat lunch on their own. Washing their clothes wasn't too different, as she'd always washed her own - actually, the main trick was having to be gentler with her own clothes and taking a bit longer to clean them. At least the farm had a well and there was a river barely a ten minute walk away, so all she had to do was boil the water over a flame and get to washing. It was a good thing Elain had taught her the differences, and the trick that hot water was easier to wash with and got stains out better.

In terms of the work she handled on the farm, it was overall light stuff. She was made to prepare and fill the chicken’s and goats’ feed as needed, let the animals out to pasture (Roran or Garrow would herd them back in while she prepared supper), check the coop for eggs, and milk the goats when they were producing. It was time consuming work, but surprisingly manageable. Otherwise, she needed to keep the house as clean and tidy as she could, which wasn't too hard either. It was a lot, and took a lot of time to do right, and it rather surprised her to see how the house began to change just from the regular chores being done with ‘a woman’s touch’ as Elain put it.

It was odd. She really didn't understand it, but both Roran and Garrow had complimented her work, which was why she was able to go to the Spine the last couple days with Roran to gather the herbs needed. They'd gotten enough that - according to the recipes - she'd be able to make it a good six months. The concoction to stop her manhood from functioning was to be ingested once every week while the one to make her body womanly was to be ingested once a month. Thankfully, the former’s recipe apparently kept for a month, and the latter’s for three - precisely the quantities they made.

She was stunned to see how detailed the recipe was. It told her how to preserve the herbs so they could still give the full effect if they were used as ingredients up to seven months after gathering them. It even carried images and what she could only describe as a sort of visual guide that primarily used numbers. Even Roran could almost read it. The word on the bottom, ‘Angela’, had seemed unrelated to the recipes, so her best guess was that the word was a name. Perhaps of the herbalist or apothecary that had crafted the recipes?

If she ever got to Teirm, Eragon was going to seek Angela out and ask her all about it.

On top of all this, it didn't hurt that visiting the Spine let her check on the dragon. She'd snuck out a couple nights in the dead quiet out to the forest so she could give the baby some food, but apparently it had begun to hunt quite quickly. It had a small hollow of a tree for its shelter, the floor being lined with a rag that was rarely used.

The first night she'd snuck out, she found rat bones and tufts of fur and perhaps downy feathers, and the dragon was growing rather quickly, already the size of a small dog. Evidently they were self-sufficient. She'd spoken to it a bit - about how her girl training was going, her family, Elain and Katrina… Really whatever came to mind.

For the visits she'd cautiously made while branching out to search for herbs with Roran, she'd mostly just snuck some fruit from the Spine to the dragon. It hadn't shown any adverse reaction to the dried apples she'd snuck it, and whatever berries and apples she gave it after were eaten without complaint, so she figured it liked it well enough. Probably.

Odd feelings had continued to pervade her mind, however. She was starting to grimly believe it was the dragon feeling them, mad as it sounded. If it was, that meant there was a lot more to the beastie than met the eye. She'd even had odd images come to mind that she felt were not hers. It was disconcerting to say the least.

If it ever became words… She tried to not think about that.

“Need any help?” Roran asked while Eragon plucked the amount of herbs she'd need.

“No, I think I've got it,” she told him with a smile. “The rest are drying, but all treated otherwise. Should probably fit into a few baskets.”

“Mad that this is going to work with so little,” Roran mused as he watched her measure a small amount of pulverized moonflower leaf and add it to the slurry of water, ground apple (for taste), charberries, and mountain glory nectar. It was swiftly reaching the almost gloppy consistency the recipe said was the final product.

“I agree, but apparently it will. I'm glad Gertrude gave us some glass bottles for all those moonflower roots and mountain glory leaves,” she said lightly. “I should be able to fill four bottles with this, just as the recipe said - and if the other one’s right, those last three bottles will hold the rest.”

Eragon began carefully pouring the liquid into the bottles, one by one. She didn't do it one by one, instead using a spoon to carefully divide it between the bottles equally. She was practically scraping the bowl at the end, but gave a satisfied sigh as she set it down. It would need a washing, but that was why she'd brought a pot to a boil and had mixed it with some cold well water to get a hot-but-not-scalding washtub. She stoppered the bottles as Gertrude had provided corks, and then brought the dishes to the washtub so she could begin cleaning them off, as she'd need them for the second recipe.

“Haven't you only been doing this girl stuff for a week?” Roran teased. “You look like a natural at this stuff.”

Eragon smiled lopsidedly as opposed to her usual roll of the eyes. Elain had knocked that habit out of her right quick, as it was apparently very immature.

“Well, I'm still an amateur if you ask Elain. I've got a ways to go. Still, thank you, Roran,” she told her cousin gratefully. Compliments felt nice, and one thing she'd noticed now that she'd begun falling into the role of a girl and wearing dresses and such was that she got compliments much more often.

“Will tracking the days be an issue?” Roran asked curiously. “You said the one was every week, and the other every month. That's a lot of days to track, and we don't keep a calendar or nothing.”

“I know,” Eragon replied, setting each dish on the cloth she'd set out as it came clean and needed drying. “But I've an idea. That strap of leather Garrow wasn't sure what to do with? All I've to do is use a knife to puncture a hole each morning in little clusters. With each cluster of seven, I take a dose of what I just brewed, and with each four I take a dose of what I've yet to make. I'll run out of strap eventually, but if I'm smart about it, the strap should last me about a dozen fortnights, shy of six months.”

Roran blinked a few times, looking at her in shock. “Have… Have you always been that good at planning ahead?” He asked, visibly surprised.

Eragon giggled a bit as she began drying the dishes. “Roran, hunting requires patience and planning. From trapping squirrels and tracking deer to shooting rabbits and spearing fish. I know I'm not the most patient with my questions, but that's more a hunger for knowledge,” she explained patiently. Honestly, it was kind of nice being able to talk about the things she did and that interested her.

“Huh… Guess that makes sense. I've never been much for hunting,” Roran admitted, watching as she moved the dishes to the counter and began scrolling through the second recipe.

She knew the concoctions had names - the words underlined above each of them kind of indicated as much - but she couldn't tell how to pronounce it because some of the glyphs were foreign to her. Aunt Marian never did teach her any special characters that were not of the alphabet.

“...Is it different much? Being a girl rather than a boy?” Roran asked as she began to use the mortar and pestle to grind some bloodwort stools.

“Mmm… Well, do you mean in role, appearance, or the way I think?” Eragon asked.

Roran shrugged. “All of the above? I suppose I haven't ever thought much about how different women are,” he admitted.

Eragon giggled as she scraped the paste into the mixing bowl, adding the rest of the fresh river water she'd set aside for her brewing as well as some valerian root and chasteberries. “Well, my role now is mostly to cook, clean, and Garrow said one day I'll take on the finances of the farm after Elain teaches me - for until I marry anyhow,” she explained before pausing in her mixing. “Hm, that's a thought.”

“What, marriage? Still haven't figured out whether you prefer the rougher or fairer sex?” Roran teased.

Eragon chuckled as she started to finely shred some dragon’s tongue petals. “Well, as it stands now I'd say I prefer girls, but… Who knows what this may change?” She tapped the bowl with the tip of her knife. “I suppose I just want to be cautious on entering a relationship until I've become accustomed to having a woman’s body.”

“Fair enough. Well, you answered the role part, what of the rest?” Roran continued. He was really only bugging her because he had a free day since the farm was pretty much up to snuff and Garrow had gone to the village to do some trading. Roran was, in other words, her bodyguard for now.

“Appearance… Has changed, some,” she admitted. “As you know, my wardrobe is completely different - and Elain trimmed my hair so it would look proper when it grows out,” she explained as she added the petals to the new slurry and began grinding it. She needed to get all of it as fine and liquid as she could before she could then bring it to a boil before straining the concoction and removing the chunks.

“Ah, I had wondered why they'd made it shorter,” Roran mused, sounding as if a puzzle had been solved. “Though there's a tad more to it and the role, now that you also can't appear alone,” he added a bit more soberly. “Don't get me wrong, cousin, Albriech, Baldor, and I are all happy to keep you safe and respect you for who you are - Garrow and Horst feel the same, I'd wager - but… Blast, I never really thought about it, but women don't go anywhere alone, do they?”

“No… Not really,” Eragon agreed cautiously. “Elain actually forbade me from going anywhere alone, save the Spine - and even then only for hunting trips,” she admitted. “It's a sobering thing, but it isn't so bad. I never want for company nor conversation.”

Roran gave a hum and watched quietly as she put the slurry into a metal pot and carried it to the fireplace, balancing it cautiously so it would not tip over. She used the poker to ensure all was well and kept an eye on the pot as she continued, waiting for the color to shift and the liquid to boil.

“I suppose the last is how I think… It hasn't changed so much. I try to be more thoughtful, and some other thoughts come to mind, but I think it is more because I am no longer holding my heart back,” she admitted.

“Holding it back?” Roran echoed, confused.

“I didn't know I could do something like this,” she pointed out. “I… Well, considered those thoughts odd as I've never met someone like me until Vera. And men don't share feelings much, so I couldn't exactly work up the confidence to admit it to you or Garrow until I had Vera to use as a sort of… Example, I suppose.”

“You… We would have accepted you all the same, Eragon,” Roran protested.

“I'm not saying you wouldn't. I'm saying I was the one at fault for lacking the confidence to confide,” she replied gently, not wanting him to get upset. She adjusted the charcoal again, watching as the liquid began to take on a more reddish hue.

“Ah…” Roran relaxed, flushing a bit as he seemed chagrined. “Sorry, Eragon. Just…” He trailed off, seeming unsure what to say.

“What’s done is done, Roran. Besides, we would not have had many ideas of what to do for my body without Vera. I could have worn dresses as I do now, but it is once my body begins to change that those who are less certain will be more…” She hummed a bit rather than shrug her shoulders, remembering Elain’s words. “Receptive.”

Roran was quiet after that, seeming thoughtful as he watched Eragon adjust the coals and gently stir the liquid as it began to boil, the reddish hue nearly at the stage of the warm pink she needed.

“You've changed,” he said abruptly.

“Well… I would hope so. But I am the same person—” she began.

“Not in that sense,” he interrupted her, albeit not rudely. “I mean you… You're different. You don't call me names anymore, and you aren't as bawdy. Blast it, you don't even raise your voice or curse. You talk differently, too. You sound like Katrina. Like…” He faltered, realizing it.

“A girl?” She offered softly.

“Aye… Aye, you do,” Roran agreed. He sighed and leaned against the wall, watching as she removed the boiling pink fluid from the flame and brought it to the counter, pouring it into a pot through the metal sieve. “You're starting to walk, talk, and behave like a girl. I know that's what you want, and I'm not… angry, but… By Angvard, I never realized how different we are.”

Eragon smiled again, once more resisting the habit of shrugging. “I did not either, and now I do. It's certainly a change, but… Not a bad one—”

“I never said it was,” Roran cut her off.

…So this is what Elain meant when she said Eragon should be prepared to be interrupted. It was a bit vexing, but she swallowed her upset.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say you did,” she replied, taking ownership of the words he put in her mouth. Talk about a bitter thing to swallow. “I meant to say my anxieties were for naught,” she decided. It seemed choosing her words carefully from the start was going to be paramount to not angering others.

“Ah… Good,” Roran murmured, relaxing. Though… He still seemed troubled, to be sure.

Eragon elected to gently shake the sieve and work on using the pestle to press as much liquid out of the clumps as she possibly could.

“The change… Well, I certainly can't think of you as anything other than a girl now,” Roran said with a lighter tone, obviously trying to dispel the awkward tension.

Eragon gave a more genuine smile that didn't take any forcing. “Thank you, Roran. That means a lot,” she told him, shaking the last bits out of the liquid and then taking all dishes, barring the pot of liquid - which needed to cool and then be poured - to the washtub so she could once again wash the dishes. She had gotten into a habit of washing dishes as soon as she could, and the water wasn't too dirty that it couldn't be used again.

“By the way, have you decided what you'll do with that stone?” Roran asked curiously, his head tilted.

“Oh… I…” Eragon winced. Should she be honest? Logically, no. But… “It wasn't a stone. It uh. It was an egg,” she admitted.

“An egg? Angvard Above… And I'm guessing you found out because it hatched?” He guessed, looking about as floored as she could have expected.

“Yes… I did,” she confirmed. “It happened a week ago, but… it's… Not something you'd predict,” she said honestly, setting the last dish onto the towel. Then Eragon sighed and held up her right palm which she had been taking care to keep hidden.

“That… Wait…” Roran stared for a moment before his eyes went wide and he paled. “Brom’s stories… The silver hand… You… You're…”

“A Rider,” she said quietly. “I… I took it out to the forest. It's hunting for itself. But… Roran, please don't suggest we put it down. I…”

Roran held up a hand to quiet her as he slowly walked to the table and sat. “Let… Let me think for a moment,” he told her. “Finish up your concoctions, but I think we need to talk after they're packed and you take the first doses.”

Eragon winced but knew better than to argue. She'd just had to be honest. Well, better to tell him than have him find the dragon or otherwise learn from someone else. Talk about irresponsible.

With the liquid sufficiently cooled, it indeed filled the three bottles equally. She made sure as much was out as there could be - even scraping with a spoon - before keeping her patience and washing the pot and spoon, adding them to the dishes that needed drying. Since Roran didn't speak up, she took the dirtied water and set it aside to be poured away later before picking up one of each bottle. One a green slurry and one a pink liquid.

“Bottom’s up,” she muttered, uncorking the green slurry and ingesting the concoction. The apple flavor barely came through and it was incredibly bitter, but she shook out the final drops, coughing a bit and setting the empty bottle aside. After counting every second for a minute, she then ingested the pink liquid which went down much more smoothly, tasting a bit better as well, albeit still somewhat bitter. She grimaced and shook the last drops of that out as well before setting it next to its empty fellow and then going to sit at the table.

Silly as she was for previously thinking otherwise, Eragon didn't feel any different. But then, it would be a process. One requiring patience. Lovely.

“I won't suggest we kill it,” Roran began, his tone serious and shaking Eragon from her thoughts. “Being honest I don't know why but I feel like doing that would bring more harm than good. But… You can't stay in Carvahall,” he said, obviously pained.

Eragon felt like she'd received a blow to her chest. “I… Suppose not,” she agreed, pain coloring her own voice. “I put everyone in more danger the longer I stay. The Emperor…”

Roran winced, his expression becoming more pained. “This… Is something we need to plan,” he began carefully. “You being a girl… The Emperor would…” He shuddered. “You can't fall into his hands. Ever. Which leaves the Varden.”

“Th-the Varden?” Eragon echoed, disbelieving. “But… we don't even know where they are,” she pointed out. “It would be better to hide in the Spine. Far from Carvahall, but…”

“All alone?” Roran asked, eyebrow raised. “No matter how strong a dragon is… No. I can't allow that. So… I'll have to go with you,” he decided.

“But… But Therinsford! And Katrina!” Eragon protested. “Roran… Your entire life is here, you can't—”

“I can get a job anywhere, cousin,” Roran interrupted her, not unkindly. “Katrina… I will speak to her and Elain. We… may be able to convince Sloan to let her join us. She could be your ‘girl teacher’ while we travel.”

Eragon felt a pit in her stomach.

He was talking about that so… lightly. His tone was serious, but did he truly not know? Even in the small time she'd been learning, she knew that Katrina would be heavily resistant to leaving because she would have nothing. Especially if Sloan did not approve. Roran, too, would have nothing. He was talking about asking the woman he loved to give up everything, and not even for himself.

So Eragon wouldn't be ‘unprotected’ when traveling.

She clenched her hands into fists, grabbing handfuls of her dress. She wanted to scream. To yell and shout and berate him for thinking so little. For prioritizing Eragon herself over Katrina when it should be the other way around.

She wanted to cry and sob. Her horrible thoughts told her it was a mistake to wish to be a woman, and that she was a coward for not deciding to go back to being a boy. How selfish she was, yet the painful fear of going back left her crippled from taking such a route.

She did not scream or cry.

“I… See,” she managed, somehow keeping her voice level. “But that would still leave us as two girls, a man, and a young dragon. That's not enough, particularly when you're not yet trained in combat,” she began carefully. “Which is no fault of anyone involved, but we cannot expect to not get into a fight if the Empire discovers the dragon.”

Roran deflated from his initial upset. “I… See. You make a fair point,” he admitted.

“I… think due to how little we know of the Varden, we should perhaps take time before leaving,” she began. “You would need time to convince Katrina, Sloan, and Elain, and it would perhaps be better if the dragon were larger. We could also use the time to look into the Varden, and perhaps ask Brom about dragons.”

Roran took a few moments to dwell on her words, looking pensive. She felt oddly… Powerless. If he said no, she didn't have the right to refuse. And that… Scared her.

“Very well,” Roran acquiesced. Eragon breathed a sigh of relief, relaxing a little. “I'll get you some parchment and charcoal, since we'll want to plan, and you're the one that can read. A map may be pushing it. But once we start getting people asking around after you or that dragon? We leave immediately.”

Eragon nodded readily, relaxing further. Yes, she still felt anxiety at having to leave Carvahall, but now they had a plan. “Alright. Perhaps in Therinsford or Yazuac we could even seek another man to join the group for our protection,” she suggested. “We can stick near the Spine to get me my herbs… Horses may be difficult, but if the dragon’s of a size she can wear saddlebags…”

“Speaking of that dragon, we keep her secret,” Roran cut into her musings. “Even from Garrow, Elain… especially Sloan. Once we know if Katrina is joining us, we can tell her, but otherwise? I appreciate you trusting me, cousin, but you shouldn't speak lightly of this.”

Eragon nodded repeatedly. “Of course,” she agreed. “I… I see now that the dragon makes things… Complicated,” she admitted, rubbing her biceps anxiously. “Working up the funds to leave will be…”

“Ah. Right. That… Hm, I did not think of that,” Roran muttered, blushing. “Guess it's a bleeding good thing you're a girl. You think of everything I miss.”

Eragon smiled. “I try my best,” she said humbly. “As for funds… Garrow believes you're heading for Therinsford when Dempton leaves Carvahall. I can't imagine he has nothing set aside for you, or even me. If…” She worried at her lip a bit before proceeding with caution, “If we explain to him about the dragon, he may help us in leaving and planning.”

Roran laced his fingers atop the table, brooding. He did that a lot when he was uncertain. “True… I can explain my decision to not join Dempton to him as receiving a different opportunity. For Father… He’ll understand my reasoning, but he'll want to see the dragon. So do I, to be honest. Can you bring it here? Day after tomorrow, when Father's less work for the day and will be in a brighter mood.”

Eragon nodded. “I can,” she confirmed. “If you come with me, it would take perhaps an hour to retrieve her. After that I can begin to plan appropriately, since Uncle Garrow should give us some idea of what he can provide. It might help if she’s a name before we leave. Can you take me to Carvahall tomorrow so I can speak with Brom?”

“I can,” Roran agreed. “You've to learn from Katrina and Elain for that day anyway, so we'll leave an hour early to give you time to pick the man’s brain. I'll be by your side, though,” he said, pointing at her. “Brom’s an odd one and an outsider, only came to Carvahall perhaps a decade past. I trust him about as far as I can spit.”

“Fair enough,” Eragon acquiesced. She sighed, but restrained herself from sagging into her chair. Posture and all that. “There's a lot that goes into this… I've not a map, but stopping in most major cities between Carvahall and Furnost may be wise. More people, more chances to learn about the Varden. Uru’baen is off the table, though.”

“I suppose that makes sense,” Roran begrudged her, scratching his beard a bit. “But are you including Gil’ead and Teirm? They’d both be a bit of a detour.”

“Well… Would you rather try and make it from Gil’ead to Teirm and Teirm to Dras-Leona, or all the way from Yazuac or Daret to Dras-Leona?” Eragon asked, knowing Roran would realize how problematic that would be. If he didn't, she'd push it into his blasted head, if need be.

“I… Hm. Is it really such a big difference?” He asked, bemused.

“Well, by foot it takes a week to get from Carvahall to Therinsford when it's able-bodied men,” she pointed out. “Something neither Katrina nor I are or will be when we leave, as no doubt my muscles will become softer. Even on horse… Roran, for all we know it could take up to a year merely to get to Dras-Leona from Daret. If we take those detours, we're likelier to learn more and have less time between settlements. Not to mention I think Katrina might be rather pleased to see so many cities and sights,” she added, figuring using Katrina to sway Roran was pretty clever.

“Huh… She has always said the Spine looked beautiful for all its treachery,” Roran muttered, seeming to warm up to the idea. He tapped a finger to the table before nodding. “Alright, cousin. Your way it is.”

Pleased, Eragon thanked Roran and went to finish the cleanup. Sure, her anxieties remained and she felt an odd tightness in her chest from realizing she was no longer Roran’s equal, but…

She had time to plan and put herself to work, and that needed to be enough. It had to be.

Chapter Text

CW: Misogyny, Panic Attack, Fear of Abuse

~~~~~ Eragon ~~~~~

IV: Heart to Heart

~~~~~ Eragon ~~~~~

October 21st, 7999

Garrow’s Farm

“Farm,” Saphira thought curiously.

Hearing words in her mind was driving Eragon a touch mad, but for now she was electing to not dwell on it much. Saphira’s voice had a femininity to it that had Eragon believing the dragon was female - though amusedly she couldn't help wondering if, like her, Saphira’s view of herself may one day change.

Brom had been oddly awkward the day before, never meeting Eragon’s eye and speaking more softly than usual. Still, he provided the names of a number of dragons. Eragon had dismissed the male names after Saphira showed distaste at the third, and when she finally said ‘Saphira’ her dragon seemed immensely pleased, so Saphira it was.

For his part, Roran was rather fixated on Saphira, looking at her nervously ever since Eragon had informed him her dragon could speak - in her mind alone, perhaps, but speak all the same.

“Roran, Brom did tell us dragons are fiercely intelligent,” she said politely. “Saphira being able to communicate with me isn't that worrisome.”

“Och… I know,” Roran muttered, shaking his head. “I'm not so bothered with that. Just… Thoughts not your own in your head? That sounds a strange and unpleasant feeling. How does it not bother you?”

Eragon stroked Saphira’s head. Despite her size having grown further, the dragon was still small enough to rest about her shoulders. “She doesn't seem to know my thoughts unless I give them, and I believe that is mutual,” she murmured, letting Saphira nuzzle her silvery palm. “She is… Kind, and gentle. I feel safe with her.”

“You… Are aware she is a dragon, yes? Eventually she'll be breathing flames and hunting… I don't know, boars or something,” Roran said animatedly, jumping when Saphira snorted a small puff of black smoke.

“The same can be said for dogs, in a way,” Eragon countered. “No flames, and smaller, but they are kind to men and cruel to prey and enemies. By Angvard, you could say the same of people. I won't say I don't understand, but I think Saphira is someone we can trust.”

“Uh-huh,” Roran muttered as they reached the property line and began crossing the field. “You'd best hope father feels the same. That journey will take us ages just to get to Gil’ead, much less Teirm or Dras-Leona. We need all the support we can garner - financial or otherwise.”

“I understand,” Eragon replied. ‘I know’ was a banned phrase now, because even if she did know, apparently it came across as combative. Which… She supposed she could see, depending on tone. Still, some of the rules were truly so mad she could scarce believe it. Elain and Katrina’s serious demeanors were convincing, which only served to dishearten her further.

Eragon took a deep breath and exhaled when they reached the door.

“Wait here. I'll try and prepare him,” Roran told her, going inside without waiting for an answer.

…Before, he would have waited.

“Upset?” Saphira asked curiously, nudging Eragon’s cheek with her nose.

“Only a little,” she lied back. She knew Saphira could tell she lied, but Elain and Katrina wanted her to behave as often as possible, nearly all times if she wasn't sure of privacy. She was unsure, so she remained on her best.

“Lies,” Saphira said, visibly upset, but seemingly not at Eragon.

“You're quite clever,” Eragon said softly, rubbing the top of Saphira’s head. “Good. It would do you no good to be like me. You should be more independent. Brash, strong, and unbound.”

“A dragon,” Saphira said proudly, looking serious.

“A dragon,” Eragon agreed softly, smiling at the warmth Saphira provided. She knew the stories all too well. Perhaps if she were still a boy, Saphira might scare her. Yet…

With the pain she had begun to bear, Eragon couldn't help admiring Saphira rather than fear her. The little dragon was so kind and sweet, and having a massive and powerful protector in the future who would be by her side at all times?

It was reassuring, to say the least.

Upon hearing raised voices - not shouting, but raised all the same - Eragon flinched by reflex. She paused. Why? Neither Garrow nor Roran had ever laid a hand on her besides to wrestle. Had she ever been hit by them? Not to memory. Why…?

She felt a chill as she recalled what Elain had discussed. How angering men would be dangerous and unsafe.

She couldn't make out words, but if Garrow and Roran were both angry at her… Would… Would they…?

She didn't want to think so, but she did not know for sure. Roran had seemed upset at first the other day, and made the decision to uproot his life for her. To see if Katrina would uproot her life - not for Roran, though he likely thought as such, but for Eragon. Katrina was smart, she would understand Eragon was at fault.

She felt a sickened twist in her stomach. She wrapped her arms around Saphira as the dragon moved to rest inside them in front of Eragon, nuzzling close. It helped to soothe the hammering of her heart, but she couldn't stop trembling with fear. What was she to do? Run away? And do what? That would make them angrier.

She couldn't get her mind off a sight she had occasionally seen as a child but never dwelled on. One of a man visiting from Therinsford striking his wife and child. She never did learn why, but… Were all men like that? She felt so lost.

She'd never made Garrow or Roran angry before. Irritated, perplexed, confused, and worried? Yes to all. But angry? Never.

And they sounded angry. Garrow especially. She felt so scared, sniffling and trying not to hiccough as hot, wet tears began to run down her cheeks. Saphira wordlessly nuzzled against the crook of her neck, purring almost like a cat as she wrapped her tail and wings around Eragon as best she could. It reassured her a great deal, even if the tears and shaking didn't stop.

One thing that did stop was the shouting. She stumbled backwards a bit and waited until the stomping feet stopped and the door swung open to show a visibly agitated Roran.

Eragon cracked. “I'm sorry,” she blubbered softly, hiccoughing as her tears fell in earnest. “I… I'm s-sorry, I… I didn't… It's m-my f-f-fault, I…” She hiccoughed again and had to fight down more sobs, trying her hardest to not fall apart and struggling to keep it together.

“Hey, hey, woah,” Roran said a bit hurriedly as he crossed over to her, his expression going from tense to concerned in a heartbeat. All the same, Eragon flinched when he got close, and it caused Roran to falter. “E… Eragon?” He asked softly, confused.

“I… I-I’m hic I’m s-sorry, I-I d- hic -didn’t m-mean t-t-to up-ups-set you, I- hic- I just- I–” Eragon tried to form a coherent sentence but could not. She was falling apart. What could she do? What could she say? What was she supposed to do to make it better? What could she do to apologize and make Roran and Garrow not be mad anymore?

She felt arms awkwardly wrap around her after a moment, and through tear-filled eyes could see it was Roran, looking a bit confused and uncertain but still worried.

“I'm… Not sure why you're upset,” Roran admitted. “But I’m not upset at you . Just… Myself. So go ahead and pull yourself together. It's okay,” he said a bit awkwardly, patting her back before he pulled away. “Garrow’s ready to meet Saphira now.”

Eragon sniffled, her emotions… Still in great turmoil, and honestly she was still tremendously scared and worried, but his words had calmed her to a degree. Not a particularly great degree, but a degree all the same. She still held Saphira snugly in her arms as she followed Roran inside, him closing the door behind her.

She tensed when she saw Garrow, and her heart continued to hammer in her chest as her fear skyrocketed. Roran had said he wasn't upset at her, but what of Garrow? Surely he agreed that this whole mess was her fault? She'd made a mistake and now she had to deal with the consequences of her actions.

She didn't start sobbing but she still sniffled a bit as she approached the table hesitantly, watching with worry as Garrow looked tensely at the dragon in her arms.

“So that's her, then? Saphira?” Garrow asked a little gruffly. Words not coming to her, Eragon merely nodded. “Hm… So you're a Rider now…” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, “By Angvard, talk about a mess.”

“I’m s-sorry,” Eragon managed, her voice still warbly with emotion.

“Eh? What's that? Sorry? What for?” Garrow asked, visibly bemused.

“F-f-for r-ruining e- hic -everything,” Eragon said through thick sobs. “I… It's all my f-fault,” she sobbed, her voice breaking on the last word. “I'm s-s-sorry, I…”

“Hold on now,” Garrow said a bit placatingly, looking just about as uncomfortable and uncertain as Roran had. “You… You've not gone and ruined anything, lass. Not sure what you mean by your fault, either, seeing as I doubt any of us predicted that would come out of that stone.”

“But… But you were upset,” Eragon said, now confused in her own right. “I… I thought I'd… Well…”

“Eragon, you've been put into a situation out of anyone’s control,” Garrow told her. “No use in me getting upset about it. You're a girl, not a grown man. That means it's our job to try and protect you. If that means getting you to the Varden… Well, I rather that than let the Emperor have his way with you,” he said, expression darkening a bit.

“He is upset, mind. But not at you,” Roran added, looking chagrined. “He pointed out to me that I was taking what I wanted to ask of Katrina too lightly. That… I was going to ask her to give up everything, and how blasted thick-headed of me it was to not have something to offer her in kind,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

“O-oh…” Eragon was now immensely confused, but the fear and panic had begun to ebb, though now she shook because her body felt weak and fragile. She stumbled a bit but managed to sit in a chair at the table, petting Saphira to calm herself some.

‘Here,’ Saphira said, nestling close. Yes, she was here for Eragon. Comforting and protecting her.

“I'm also right bothered by how much he's putting on your shoulders,” Garrow added, lacing his fingers together atop the table. “Having you sort out the path, manage supplies, and handle so much more? I agree that a grown woman could perhaps handle so much, but you're just a girl, Eragon. Roran and I will talk more about that, but you're not the one that's at fault,” he told her before sighing, shaking his head.

“I… I'm sorry, Eragon,” Roran said with a wince. “Never really realized I was putting so much on your shoulders. I shouldn't have done that to you,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“N-no… It's okay,” Eragon mumbled, emotions slowly - very slowly - settling, though they didn't leave. They just sat there, less agitated but not soothed. Just… Relaxed. “I misunderstood, and… Overreacted,” she said with a small, forced smile as she managed to put the proverbial mask back on.

“Hm… Roran tells me Saphira can speak to you?” Garrow asked, still looking uncomfortable as he awkwardly changed subjects. “In your head, anyway.”

Eragon nodded. “Yes. J-just one or two word thoughts. Here and there, but she's still a baby. She'll um. She'll probably talk more as she gets older,” she answered, continuing to pet Saphira, now gently running a hand over her wings.

“Hm… Has she begun to hunt yet?” Garrow asked.

“Yes. Pretty much right away she could hunt rats, small birds. I've given her a bit of fruit and spare meat here and there. She doesn't care much for milk, so I guess dragons don't do that for their young,” she answered, giving some more details based on what she'd observed.

“I suppose that tracks. She's some sort of… Reptile?” Garrow guessed.

“Maybe,” Eragon replied with a small smile. “I never really figured it out. Oh, I'll probably have her return to the forest though. She grows fast.”

“How fast?” Roran asked skeptically.

“She's about twice the size she was when she hatched,” Eragon answered. “Maybe a bit bigger? I don't know how big she'll get when she starts to slow down, but seeing as she can already defend and feed herself and is bigger than anything the forest has, it's probably for the best. Plus we don't risk someone seeing if they come to visit.”

Both men’s eyes widened and they traded glances.

“Aye, I suppose you raise a fair point,” Garrow agreed. He sighed and scratched at his beard. “I've some money for each of you, as you expected Eragon. I'll give it to you when time comes for you to leave. Still… Have you yet sorted out how long your trip could take?”

Eragon winced. She had. It wasn't hard to calculate, if she was being honest. “As it stands, I… am not as suited for travel as a man would be. Presuming Katrina joins us, we would need to move at a slower pace and ride for less time each day, both for our protection - we don't want to get too spread out - and to avoid exhausting ourselves or the horses. That in mind…” She worried at her lip before sighing. “Merely to reach Yazuac, it would take two months’ time. I would likely be nigh upon seventeen if we had to go all the way to Furnost.”

Roran’s eyes bulged and he slowly sat down in a chair. “So… Two years,” he muttered, shoulders dropping. “Blast, that's…”

“Hm… With Saphira, should she be sufficiently grown, she could help hunt for food,” Garrow muttered. “Have you considered water?”

Eragon nodded, pulling out the map she had kept on her - between her apron and the dress she had on - since receiving it yesterday. She slowly traced her finger over the path as she spoke. “Follow the Anora River until it's a straight shot to Yazuac, then the Ninor to Daret, and finally to Gil’ead and Lake Isenstar. Retrace our steps and get as set as we can at Lake Flam before following the mountains. Worst case - and that will likely come, there's only so much water we can carry - I can fly with someone on Saphira to Flam or Woadark Lake and fill skins every so often. Brom said a grown dragon could fly its Rider down the length of the Spine in perhaps a month and a half. A few days on each trip. Perfectly doable.”

“I see…” Garrow mused as he peered at the map, giving Eragon an appraising look. “Hunting, am I correct?”

Eragon flushed, understanding his meaning. “I learned how to optimize supplies, routes, food, water… Aye, hunting,” she confirmed before clearing her throat and continuing. “After that, we can follow the Toark River and Leona Lake to Teirm and Dras-Leona, and either the Jiet River to a brief stop in Melian before Furnost and Lake Tudosten, or a straight shot from Dras-Leona to Furnost. The former would take more time, but lets us avoid Uru’baen by a wider margin.”

“Blast, but that's—”

“Very well done, Eragon,” Garrow interrupted Roran, patting Eragon’s back. “You certainly got Selena’s brains. Good that Marian helped you use them.”

Eragon flushed a bit. “Um… Aunt Marian actually… Well, I had something to ask,” she admitted.

“Which is?” Garrow asked, bemused.

“I… I thought of a name I would like for myself,” she said. “Maria. To… To honor her. But I felt I should ask you since…” She trailed off, pursing her lips. That one would definitely upset—

Garrow gently patted her head. “It's your name. Choose whatever you like,” he said softly, sounding a bit choked up. “Maria sounds like a beautiful name, lass.”

While Saphira squeaked in protest at the sudden movement, Maria couldn't help enveloping her Uncle in one of her tightest hugs as thanks.

~~~~~ Maria ~~~~~

November 13th, 7999

Maria blew warm breath onto her hands before rubbing them together. The walk to the forest’s edge was brief, but with the temperature dropping so much as of late, she had to be careful. Especially as it seemed far colder than before.

Perhaps a consequence of her new hormones. She'd not noticed much difference just yet besides slightly clearer skin and a generally more balanced mood, but Elain had told her women dressed more warmly in winters because they were more susceptible to the cold. The longer, thicker bloomers and two-layer dress she had to wear were proof of such. Unlike some of her other dresses, this one’s sleeves puffed out some and extended to her wrists, and the skirts reached down to her ankles. Still, it kept her warm, mostly.

Her new gloves were being made by Garrow, since the old ones had been wearing thin as it was. But for the meantime she was able to use a cloak and keep her hands beneath it to help them stay warmer. As for her head, her slowly thickening and lengthening curls paired with the cloak’s hood kept her warm.

“There you are, Maria,” Saphira said as she crawled out from within her latest shelter. A sort of small cave that was already a bit small for her. Saphira had indeed grown as rapidly as Maria predicted, her shoulder now near-level with Maria’s own. Perhaps a tad shorter.

“Sorry, Saphira. Roran and Garrow had another argument this morning,” she replied.

“Is it serious?” Saphira asked. “Or are they bickering about Katrina again?”

Maria gave Saphira a slightly-stern look. “It is about Katrina, but that doesn't mean it isn't serious,” she scolded her dragon, causing Saphira to roll her eyes and Maria to huff. “Katrina's been informed, but Sloan’s thrown a fit. Left Roran with a black eye and threatened a blood feud.”

“What is a ‘blood feud’?” Saphira asked, bemused.

“Originally it was supposed to pit families against one another in a nasty sort of fight. These days, it means Sloan would refuse to ever do service with Roran or his blood - including me, Garrow, and any children Roran or I have - and if Katrina pursued marriage with Roran all the same… Well, Sloan would provide no support. She would be as good as a beggar off the streets,” Maria explained, a sourness to her tone. It felt so crude, and she wished Roran and Sloan could just settle their differences already. “Roran still loves Katrina blindly, so he wouldn't mind, but Katrina…”

“Does she not love Roran as well?” Saphira asked with a snort, pressing her head against Maria’s hand. It was warm, so Maria readily began to pet the dragon.

“She does,” Maria confirmed before slightly grimacing. “But at the same time… Humans are not merely social creatures, but material ones as well. Katrina wants a home to manage, not a life on the run and possibly supporting a rebellion,” she explained.

“But the cause is just?” Saphira asked, bemused.

“And Katrina was never a warrior at heart,” Maria pointed out, sighing as she let Saphira rest her head on Maria’s shoulder. “She cares for Roran and I both, but the decision to abandon everything is not one she can make easily. She still loves her father. If she is to join us… She will need time to think and shore up the confidence and willpower.”

“I see… Humans are rather complex,” Saphira mused.

“As are dragons, from a human’s perspective,” Maria teased. “We are different, therefore we do not understand one another. But the difference between us and people such as Birgit and Quimby is that we try to understand and learn, while they let their hate and fear control them.”

“Have they caused trouble of late? Those who call you by your shed name,” Saphira asked.

“Mmm… Nothing unbearable,” Maria replied. “Names - words. I won't deny it stings, but I have to endure this much if I am to live as a girl.”

“How pragmatic,” Saphira said drily, giving her head a slight shake. “Have you always been so cunning?”

“I'm not an average girl,” Maria teased, smiling. “Hunting, bartering for the best deals… I've been called terrible things for ages. Spoiled, even - and for a Carvahall kid, I kind of am. I know how to read.”

“Is that such a rare talent?” Saphira asked.

“Mmm. Among humans? I can't say for sure. All of Alagaesia? Also unsure. But in Carvahall? Aye. The only other person who may know how to read is Brom, as we don't know his past,” she pointed out before frowning a bit. “I have to admit I've never really understood why, but I also feel as though my mind may perhaps be sharper than that of others. Garrow always said my Mother was the kind of woman who saw more than others. Perhaps I get it from her.”

“It is a pity I cannot meet your parents, and you, mine,” Saphira mused. “Perhaps it is our bond as Dragon and Rider, but I desire for you to know more about me, and I similarly desire to know as much about you as I can.”

“I can't say the feelings aren't mutual,” Maria murmured, sighing as she gently rested her head against Saphira’s. “I wish we could have a peaceful life.”

“As do I. As exciting as the lives of rebels and warriors sound, we have lost the ability to choose,” Saphira groused, huffing some smoke from her nostrils. She hadn't breathed flame yet, but Maria did not doubt it would come soon enough. “Or perhaps we never had a choice.”

“Somehow I think it may be the latter,” Maria muttered. “Funnily enough, despite what others say, there aren't as many choices in life as we think. I must work, eat, drink water, sleep, hunt, stay vigilant… And I must live as a woman. I do not know what my life would be like were I forced to be a man once more, but I feel it would be… Horrible.”

“I do not disagree,” Saphira mused as she detached herself and began to wander around, her voice clear as ever in Maria’s mind. Even all the way in Carvahall, Saphira’s voice was ever-present, and Maria could even think back at her if she liked. “I find it so strange. As a dragon, I doubt most of us care for the concept of gender - I do not understand it, either. Yet all the same I know that the mind trumps the body, thus you are a woman and not a man. How can humans not understand?”

Maria gave a small, sad smile. “I think they do, a little,” she replied sadly. “Not me wanting to be a woman, of course. Nor can they reconcile the concept of discord between body and mind. No… They understand the mind trumps the body. After all, while perhaps a strong enough punch would hurt or even kill me… That would require them to have enough reason to be angry. If I behave myself, they do not get angry, and I do not get hit - thus the mind prevails.”

“I see…” Saphira snorted again and made a throaty sort of sound that Maria had identified recently as a chuckle. “Yes, you are quite cunning indeed.”

“Mmm. Perhaps,” Maria said in a slightly teasing tone.

The duo walked in silence for a moment, the cooling weather having quieted the woods as many animals began to hibernate, if they were not already preparing to do so. Maria kept her ears sharp, of course - she wasn't so fool as to assume she would always be alone. After witnessing Saphira hunt one of the wolves that had come by, Roran and Garrow had begun letting her visit Saphira alone…

But that did not account for whether someone else was around. One of more sinister desires. Maria had already seen a couple disturbing gazes sent her own way. Clearly not all were so disgusted by her form as to not seek it. Then again, Katrina had confessed she'd experienced such stares when she was as young as twelve.

As Maria was learning, some people were beyond disgusting. Men and women alike - the former just benefited from carrying power that let them get away with it. But Birgit was proof enough that women were not exactly perfect, either.

Just as awful and good men like Sloan and Horst respectively existed, so too did awful and good women.

“Two years is a long time,” Saphira said, shaking Maria from her thoughts.

“Perhaps,” Maria agreed, “But similarly, the Varden has resisted the Empire ever since its foundation. Two years of travel sounds quite small in comparison.”

“Hm. It is regrettable we cannot travel alone. You and I could make the trip in half a year,” Saphira said confidently.

“Maybe. But I cannot safely travel cities alone,” Maria pointed out. “I certainly can't let you be seen - I would be brought to Emperor Galbatorix in a heartbeat. Supposedly Riders were magic by nature, but I cannot use it - and even in the last month… I have grown weaker. I have not kept my muscles trained. As time goes on, that will continue.”

“Could you not resume doing so?” Saphira asked, puzzled.

“And sacrifice the feminine appearance I desire? Perhaps. But I feel as though magic and your strength could compensate,” Maria answered calmly. She'd thought it over a great deal, after all. “If we can find a mage somewhere… I believe I could protect myself. But until then, Roran’s presence is required… Regrettably,” she muttered.

Her loss of freedom still irked her. She kept quiet, but since Saphira’s eloquence had improved, so too had she been able to draw honesty from Maria, bit by bit.

It was hard to lie to a dragon that could peer into your very mind.

“You are a greedy one,” Saphira said with a twinkle to her eyes. “Yet all the same, I cannot say I dislike it. As a dragon, greed does not take me, but that is because I am already all one could desire. Great magic, scales like gems, and fangs and claws that hold no parallel as weapons of war, all paired with powerful flame, the freedom of the skies, and a strong mind. What could I want for?”

“Good company?” Maria teased.

“Once again, I've no need to desire what I already possess,” Saphira teased right back, causing Maria to laugh.

She wiped a stray tear caused by her laughter. “What a silver tongue,” she joked. “Is that why licking my hand made it silver?”

Saphira snorted and rolled her eyes, obviously unimpressed as she shook her head and looked around a little.

“Something up?” Maria asked, ears perking up as she looked around and kept her focus and attention stalwart.

“I sense… Something,” Saphira muttered. “It is not here, yet I sense it regardless. Carvahall, the farm… They are covered in… Something. But what?”

Maria paused as she frowned, thoughtful. She remembered how animals tended to be aware of the weather, disasters, and so much more before it even approached. It was when the most minute of signs had appeared. While Saphira was far from a mere animal, her bestial nature granted her more acute instincts than any human could hope to achieve.

“Could someone problematic intend to come by?” Maria asked cautiously. “Someone… Looking for us?”

Saphira bowed her head, brow furrowed as her expression became serious. “I cannot say with certainty, yet the possibility feels strong. Your words resonate with me, but I cannot discern if it is my instincts or your own anxiety I am sensing,” her dragon admitted. She made a frustrated noise and shook herself much as a wet dog would. “Has Garrow completed that saddle? I wish to wear it as soon as possible. Having it will be a must if we need to escape.”

“One more week and he will,” Maria comforted Saphira. “A saddle is no easy thing to craft, particularly one for a growing dragon. He is trying to craft it in such a way that it can be adjusted, and that takes time. Thankfully Gedric owed him some favors, so we’re able to get the hides for cheap - material is in plentiful supply.”

Saphira huffed, obviously dissatisfied but accepting her answer all the same. “Even if it tears your legs up, if something happens in the meantime? Saddle or no we are fleeing,” Saphira warned her.

Maria gently cupped her hands on either side of Saphira’s face as they touched brows. “I know. Thank you for your concern, Saphira,” she said softly.

“You are the Rider I chose. To me, there is nothing and no one more precious,” Saphira replied kindly and warmly. “Perhaps it is as one would a sister, or themself… But I care for you, Maria. I love you.”

Maria gave a soft laugh and patted Saphira’s cheek, gently pulling back to meet her eyes. “I love you as well, Saphira. Thank you,” she said genuinely.

Saphira gave a satisfied hum before they returned to the forest’s edge in mutual silence, the gravity of the future weighing heavily on their small shoulders.

Chapter Text

~~~~~ Maria ~~~~~

V:  Run For Your Lives

~~~~~ Maria ~~~~~

December 19th, 7999

Carvahall

Much as preparations were nearly done, Maria couldn't help worrying whether they had missed anything.

Horses had been purchased in Therinsford and were kept by the forest’s edge so as to not draw attention. Saddlebags with non-food items were kept near them at all times. Maria’s own belongings were within Saphira’s saddlebags - even her concoctions and equipment to craft them.

The only thing they were missing was Katrina’s answer. She and Roran were speaking (again) today, so Maria hoped they'd come to a final answer already. Saphira’s anxieties had been worsening in the last week. She was convinced whatever ominous entity was after them was approaching and would be in Carvahall soon.

“Distracted much, Maria?” Elain asked, a faintly amused look on her face.

“What?” Maria looked up and then down before internally cursing. She'd been sewing without thread. She sighed and sat the bundle of fabric that was supposed to be a quilt for Elain’s baby down in her lap. “Sorry, just…”

“A lot on your mind with Roran and Katrina talking, eh?”

Maria gave an amused smile. “With them debating you mean,” she said drily. “I can't say I blame either of them, but this is the tenth discussion they've had in half as many days.”

Elain gave a slight wince. “Aye… As complicated a situation as it is, I'm wondering if I should make Albriech surrender his ro–”

Elain’s words were interrupted by the door being opened suddenly and shut, Albriech breathing heavily as he pressed his back against it before looking at Maria. “You need to hide. Quickly,” he urged. “The Spine.”

“What?” Maria asked, bemused.

“MONSTERS!” Saphira roared in Maria’s head, causing her to gasp in pain. She briefly opened her mind to the images Saphira saw and gritted her teeth at what she experienced.

Two men garbed in black cloaks and robes, faces obscured… And they reeked of carrion. The sense of death pervaded the area around them. They were heading to the Seven Sheaves - Morn would keep quiet. The drunks would not.

“Blast. They're here,” she cursed, setting the fabrics aside and rushing to the door to where Roran and Katrina were. She knocked thrice before pushing it open to see her cousin looking tired while Katrina looked ragged from where she sat - fully clothed, thank Angvard - on the bed. “Roran! We need to go. Now.”

Roran cursed viscerally. “How long do we have?” He asked desperately.

“They hit the Seven Sheaves just now. Saphira told me,” Maria said before giving Katrina a grim look. “Please decide in the next ten minutes.”

“Will someone please tell me what the hell is going on?” Elain said sharply, a gimlet eye primarily on Maria, but she was looking between them all.

Albriech looked similarly confused as he glanced at Maria. “I… Heard from Calitha that someone was asking about Maria. Bad news,” he said carefully. “But I don't know more than that. I just figured she'd be safe - nobody else knows the Spine.”

Maria gave a slightly frustrated sigh before yanking her glove off and showing off the silver palm. “I'm a Rider. That blue stone was a dragon egg. Roran isn't leaving Carvahall for himself, he's leaving to protect me since Saphira isn't enough. That's her name. We intend to find and join the Varden,” she explained before looking at a now-shocked Katrina. “If you'd said yes, I'd have told you about Saphira. Now the situation’s dire and I don't have much choice, but I trust you all,” she explained before shakily putting the glove back on.

“Well… Blast, but that—”

“Is the truth,” Roran interrupted Albriech with a grimace. “I've seen Saphira. This is no joke, Albriech. Elain, I'm sorry but we truly need to leave. Katrina…” He faltered before managing a weak smile. “If you can't come… So be it. I'm sorry, but it will likely be a great time before I can return to Carvahall.”

“I…” Katrina faltered, looking at Maria and then Roran for a moment. She gave Maria especially a pensive look before putting on a brave face. “Well… You'll need someone to make sure you know how to be a girl,” she said weakly, giving Maria a brief hug before then embracing Roran tightly. “And you had better make good on your promises.”

“I swear it,” Roran said fiercely as he held her close, looking relieved yet guilty at the same moment.

“Dragon Rider…” Elain muttered, looking as if the world had been pulled from beneath her feet. She sat down and sighed, burying her face in her hands for a moment before she looked up. “Katrina, you'd better go with Roran and tell Sloan. Gather your things - much as you can. Maria will be safe with us, Roran - go,” she told the two, shooing them out before she closed the door behind them, taking a deep breath.

“Mother… This is serious,” Albriech muttered. “I don't think Maria can afford to stay in Carvahall long…”

“I'm aware,” Elain told Albriech sharply, exiting the room and heading to the one she shared with Horst.

“They have left the Tavern. They're approaching the smithy,” Saphira warned in Maria’s head. “If they enter, I will—”

“Hold it,” Maria replied with her mind. “You can come if - and only if - I tell you to or you sense me being in pain. Horst and Baldor won't give us away, and I doubt they're going to come to the back. If they do, I'll call for you. Okay?”

Saphira snarled her anger. “Very well. Roran and Katrina have entered the butcher’s - Sloan’s. They shouldn't be long?”

“I sure hope not. Once they come get me, we're heading to where the horses are. Are they both ready?” Maria asked her.

“Garrow has them ready,” Saphira replied grimly. “He said he'd take them to Calitha’s, but you come with me, little one. I don't care if I must land right in the middle of Carvahall, you are getting on my back. Understood?”

“Of course,” Maria replied. That had been the plan from the start. Two horses - Cadoc and Thrymm - was all they could afford within their budget, so the intention had been for Roran and Katrina to ride the horses while Maria flew on Saphira. At least until they amassed enough money on the way for a third horse.

“This should do,” Elain muttered as she returned to the room, a small bundle in her hands. It looked a bit lumpy. She pressed it into Maria’s arms, and it had a bit of weight to it. “Just a few odds and ends, but frankly I'd feel guilty sending you off without anything after all that.”

“O-oh. You didn't—”

“But I wanted to,” Elain said firmly, quelling Maria’s objections. “Besides, consider it my way of thanking you ahead of time.”

“What for?” Maria asked, now thoroughly lost.

“Am I that obvious?” Albriech asked with a sad smile before he sighed in a long-suffering way. “I hope you've got room for one more, Maria. I'm coming with you.”

“Wh-wh— I don't—”

“Albriech has wanted to join the Varden for years,” Elain told Maria kindly as she picked the smaller girl’s cloak up and put it on her before shooing Albriech into his room and telling him to pack the essentials as quick as he could. “He's not a man just yet but he's near enough, and Roran isn't enough to protect both you and Katrina.”

“Well, we'd have Saphira…” Maria murmured before giving a rueful smile. “But I know better than to object. If that's what he really wants, we can adjust things.”

“Good lass,” Elain said, patting her cheek. “I've some jars of food and a pack of jerky somewhere. Hang on…” She exited quickly off to the kitchen, leaving Maria feeling as though she'd just rolled down a hill with how spun-about she felt.

When the door to the smithy opened again, she panicked before realizing it was Baldor, though he seemed quite shaken. “Blast, but those two gave me the worst feeling ever,” he muttered before giving Maria a confused look. “You read my mind or something?”

“Hardly, little brother,” Albriech told him, a pack under his arm as he exited his room. “I knew about the strangers already. Calitha and Thane told me. We're leaving soon. Which way did they go?”

“‘We’?” Baldor echoed, confused. “But… Wait, why not wait for Roran? I don't—”

“Baldor, focus. I know this is a lot, but Mother can explain it to you later. Maria and I have to leave Carvahall. Which way did those men go?” Albriech asked, his tone stern and very no-nonsense like it usually got when Baldor was confused. The younger of Horst’s sons was sweet, but he could be dense.

Baldor swallowed deeply before he answered, visibly shaken. “The farm. They headed in the direction of Garrow’s farm,” he said grimly. “I didn't see them carrying anything, so they're probably just going to talk?” He said hopefully.

Maria felt a cold chill run through her body.

“Saphira, get Garrow away from the farm! Now!” She thought frantically.

“On it!” Saphira replied, and Maria saw from Saphira’s eyes how her dragon took flight from the woods and landed behind the farmhouse. Good, with that Garrow should be able to escape. She knew he wouldn't come with them, but… As long as he survived, that was what mattered.

“Saphira’s going to evacuate Garrow,” she said abruptly, taking the bundle in her arms and managing to carefully stuff it into her pack that she'd taken to carrying around. She still had a knife hidden in the folds of her skirts, but generally her clothes weren't likely to have pockets. Definitely not ones big enough to carry that bundle. Women usually carried things in their aprons by holding the ends up, so a pack was required in the winter to keep their arms from the elements.

“Saphira?” Baldor echoed, his confusion clearly still at a high.

“I'll explain later,” Elain said as she hustled in, a small crate in her arms. She handed it to Albriech who tucked it under one of his own. “Once Roran and Katrina get back, the lot of you need to leave immediately.”

“Aye, we can do that,” Albriech said with a nod.

“Elain, I'm having Saphira evacuate Garrow. I don't know how stubborn he'll be, but if the farm is damaged at all, would you be able to at least convince him to stay in the woods if he has to?” Maria asked. “At least until those strangers are gone.”

“Aye, I'll get him handled,” Elain told her with a grim expression. “The Empire’s soldiers aren't known for their delicacy.”

But are they really Imperial soldiers? Maria thought to herself, Or something else? Saphira thought they seemed far too sinister to be human…

“Garrow is with me,” Saphira’s thoughts appeared in her mind abruptly. She sounded frantic. “But it was close. They may have seen me. They're on the farm now. I intend to drop him off in a nearby clearing. My thoughts will vanish from your mind in a few moments. Be safe and don't go far.”

That wasn't good.

“Saphira’s getting Garrow safe, but she's going to be out of range. She might've been seen,” Maria muttered, grimacing and shaking her head. “They're at the farm now, but I've no clue where they're heading after.”

“Blast,” Albriech said before he sighed and looked thoughtful. “Depending on the drunk… We might be able to risk leaving in the open? You're a girl, but most the drunks don't care and call you by your old name…”

“And call her a ‘boy in a dress’,” Elain pointed out. “They'll probably stop every girl around her age - of which there are few - and demand to see their palms. No, that won't work… Come on, out the back. You should be able to use Sergei.”

“Mother?” Albriech asked, stunned even as he followed her, Maria doing the same albeit with her confusion more subdued. “Sergei? Truly? But he’s—”

“The fastest of them,” Elain said firmly. “We still have two more. Sergei’s big enough to hold you both long enough for you to leave Carvahall and regroup. Maria, does Roran know where your horses are?”

“Yes,” Maria replied hastily. “He will. Are you going to—”

“I'll send him and Katrina after them and tell them you headed to Therinsford,” she said firmly. “In the worst case, you can meet up there if you somehow don't see each other.”

Maria gave Elain a tight, grateful smile. She knew it was probably being done more for Albriech’s sake than her own, but all the same couldn't help feeling quite pleased. However, a deal of guilt remained.

Sergei was strong and large indeed - Maria needed help being lifted into a side-saddle sitting position. Her skirt made sitting normally impossible, but she'd gotten comfortable enough sitting side-saddle that she wasn't bothered. If anything, it was slightly more discomforting having to sit in Albriech’s arms, pretty much. He was far larger and stronger, and his arms on the reins.

Most women would probably feel pleased at effectively being in the arms of such a strong man, but all Maria felt was that she wanted it over. She shoved the thought away. This was an emergency. She had no time to fuss with her emotions.

“This makes me no more comfortable than it does you,” Albriech murmured softly. “Just bear with it.”

She gave a tight smile and nodded before she focused on Elain while Albriech guided Sergei out of the gate. “Goodbye, Elain. Thank you for everything,” she said. It was meant truly. Elain had done a great deal for her, and Maria couldn't help feeling a tad indebted.

“Take care, you both,” Elain said, giving them a pained smile that didn't reach her eyes, which showed great sorrow and pain. “I expect to see you again in time, Albriech. Your sibling needs to know their brother.”

“I promise, Mother,” Albriech swore, expression serious as he held the reins tightly. “I'll keep Maria safe, and I will return - part of the Varden or not.”

Elain gave him a sad smile. “I put a gift your father prepared for you in the bundle I handed Maria,” she added. “He'd want you to have it.”

Albriech nodded, now seeming a bit choked up. “Aye… Tell him I'll do him proud. And… I love you both,” Albriech said softly.

Just before he snapped the reins and set Sergei on a trot, Maria saw an anguished expression on Elain’s face. One Albriech had likely not let himself see on purpose, lest it break his resolve.

Once they reached the road, he snapped the reins again. “Hyah!” With that Sergei broke into a proper run. Maria gritted her teeth and kept quiet - talk about unpleasant. Riding a horse was just plain uncomfortable. The constant movement, the bumping and jolting… It was among the many reasons why their trip would take so long. Horses had to move more slowly to be bearable for long trips, for men and women alike - though she couldn't deny it felt more uncomfortable now than it had before.

Had her body become more sensitive? Well, clearly that was a less than grand side effect of her concoctions.

“How do we keep them off us?” Albriech said, raising his voice to be heard as they fled.

Maria glanced back. They weren't being followed… But smoke was coming from the direction of the farm. She felt a painful pit in her gut. They'd be past the village boundaries in a couple minutes… But Albriech was right. They needed to keep the strangers away.

“S-Spine!” She managed, the word coming out as a half-sob. She knew it. Her home was aflame. Destroyed. Her belongings and concoctions and more would be safe… But her home was gone. The place she'd made damn near every memory she had. Burnt up in flames. She knew that if she saw it, her heart would break all the more.

She didn't let the agony consume her. Not yet. They weren't safe.

“How in blazes are we to hide in the Spine?!” Albriech asked incredulously.

“Th-the trees!” Maria replied, teeth clacking a bit from the horse’s speed. She saw they were leaving the village’s boundaries now, though her eyes were rather blurred with tears. “Don't go deep! Just under the trees!”

“Blast— alright! Left or right?” Albriech asked. Right, he hadn't seen the map.

“Right! If we go left we’ll be stuck on the wrong side of the river!” Maria cried. Mercifully, she felt Sergei turn right at Albriech’s command, and moments later they were crossing one of the smaller bridges. Good, they'd be able to hide properly n—

A screech filled the air, causing Maria to feel dread… But neither Albriech nor Sergei seemed to notice. What—

“They brought something with them,” Saphira said grimly in her mind. “I'm hidden in the Spine - flying low. Garrow is safe. Roran and Katrina made it to the Smithy just as you left. Those things are following us - by sky.”

Saphira had heard it, then. Whatever it was. By sky…

“Are they dragons?” She asked frantically, subconsciously leaning into Albriech’s protective hold. Whatever that sound was, it scared Saphira. That meant Maria was absolutely terrified.

“No. I can't see them nor sense them, but they are… Queer. I feel as though if I let them get close it would be all for naught. I will go deeper into the Spine, but not disconnect. Ride fast and stay as hidden as you can,” Saphira urged her.

“Same for you. Stay safe, fly well, and hide if you must,” Maria urged her in kind.

“Of course. I love you, little one,” Saphira thought softly.

“I love you, too,” Maria thought back.

“Keep going. Faster, I don't care if it hurts me. They're after us - flying,” she said aloud as loudly as she dared. “Don't say anything, just follow my orders and ride.”

Albriech nodded. “I trust you,” he told her before snapping the reins and causing the ride to get much rougher as Sergei ran faster.

“Deeper into the woods. Careful the pace - but the trees are thicker. Better cover, more smells, more noises,” she said grimly.

Albriech did as ordered… And then they heard it. The screech. They all heard it, based on how Albriech tensed and Sergei shuddered beneath them. Yet stayed quiet. Either the horse was well-trained… Or like Maria and Albriech, it felt a primal fear within that told it making noise would be a fatal mistake.

“Keep going,” she whispered, hoping Albriech heard. She couldn't dare speak louder. She had no idea how strong their senses were.

They didn't stop. More screeching was heard. It was slowly getting louder.

“STOP!” Saphira cried in her mind.

“Stop!” Maria hissed loudly, but not too much so. Albriech looked incredibly pained but he pulled on the reins and slowed Sergei down until they came to a stop. Sergei was trembling and neither human was much better.

“Don't move a muscle,” Saphira told her, sounding anxious. “I hid in a cave and they flew past me. If you're still and well-covered… They should fly past.”

“Are we sure?” Maria asked anxiously.

“No… But it's the best we've got,” Saphira replied grimly.

“Stay quiet,” Maria murmured as quietly as she could. Sergei and Albriech were breathing a bit heavy, but that was to be expected with the anxiety and exertion. She just had to hope it was quiet en—

SKREEEEEE!

She couldn't move. She didn't know why, but she couldn't. Based on how Albriech and Sergei had similarly stilled, they were similarly incapacitated. Whatever that was… It sounded close.

She slowed her breathing as much as she could even as her heart hammered traitorously in her chest. She begged to Angvard for whatever was chasing them to miss them, by whatever miracle. She begged to them all - every god she could imagine. Skadi, Odin, Freyja, Tyr, Heimdall…

She heard loud flapping above. Another shriek. It was excruciating. She felt agony wreak through her head - it was like the sound was shaking her. When it was over she was still unable to move, as if the shriek was a trigger. She could barely blink.

The slow, shaky breathing of Albriech and Sergei kept her focused as she waited. Waited… Waited…

“They flew away. Toward Carvahall. They seem to think we doubled back,” Saphira said in her mind.

Indeed, Maria could move her hands again. Barely. They still trembled.

“They're going back to Carvahall,” Maria whispered softly - quieter than she'd ever spoken. But she knew it would sound like a shout to Albriech in the deafening silence around them.

“Do I move?” Albriech whispered back.

“Slowly,” Maria confirmed. “We don't want to alert them.”

“Right,” Albriech said before he gently tapped Sergei’s sides with his heels. The horse began to move at a very slow, cautious walk, weaving through the trees at Albriech’s gentle tugs on the reins.

“Did Roran and Katrina make it?” Maria asked, feeling a deep worry in her heart.

“Yes. But they're on the other side of the river. It's shallow enough that they can cross, I think. Should I get them to?” Saphira responded.

“Yes. And quickly,” Maria confirmed. “They’ll be stuck between the mountains and the river if they keep going on that side.”

“Alright. We'll be there soon,” Saphira replied. It wasn't long before Maria heard the loud flapping of wings.

“Is it them?” Albriech asked tensely.

“No. It's Saphira,” Maria reassured him. “Roran and Katrina took the wrong path. She's going to get them to cross the river. We'll regroup once everyone’s calmed down.”

“Alright…”

They were both quiet for a long time as the sounds of nature slowly returned due to them putting distance between themselves and Carvahall.

“...Will they hurt anyone?” Albriech asked softly, voice strained.

“I don't know,” Maria confessed. “I hope not. As long as they didn't see us leave the Blacksmith… Your family will be okay. But if they decide to tear all of Carvahall apart…”

“...Let’s pray they don't,” Albriech said hoarsely.

“Albriech, if you want to go home—”

“No,” he said, voice cracking. He cleared his throat. “N-no… No, I'll stay with you. I said I would… And Dad always said men shouldn't go back on their promises. Especially not ones made to women.”

Maria gave a weak laugh. “We could've escaped easier if it weren't for this… If I'd just put on some pants or something,” she mumbled, clutching some of her skirt and apron in her hand.

“We made it out okay,” Albriech chided. “Besides, I doubt you being in pants would've fixed a thing. Not many kids your size in Carvahall.”

“...Fair enough,” she agreed, deflating a bit. “I just…”

“Want to blame yourself, when you didn't do a thing wrong,” Albriech said, sounding a bit more relaxed as they got further from Carvahall and the monsters lurking around it. “You do that a lot. Remember when I broke a tool and you tried to take the blame?”

“Hey! I asked you to show me how it worked,” she objected.

“And I decided to try even though I didn't have a clue,” Albriech replied with a laugh. “Father saw right through it, Mother even more. She told me to make sure you stopped taking the blame for other people’s actions all the way back then. And she told me again when you decided upon being a girl.”

“...Am I that bad?” Maria asked, grateful her blush wouldn't be visible.

“Immensely so, little one,” Saphira told her through their link.

“And more,” Albriech said at the same time.

Maria pouted, but smiled a bit when she heard the splashing of water. “Come on, let's group up. We'll sort ourselves out come nightfall,” she told Albriech lightly, grateful for the convenient chance to change topics.

“Uh-huh,” Albriech replied, sounding unconvinced. Somehow, Maria had a feeling she'd be getting teased quite a bit over the next few days.

“Can't sleep?” Saphira asked as Maria curled up by her side and the dragon covered her body with a wing. It was quite warm, considering Saphira was (probably) close to being able to breathe fire.

“I'm surprised they can,” Maria replied, nodding to the others. Albriech was out cold on the ground while Roran and Katrina had fallen into a deep sleep side by side.

“It's been a long day,” Saphira pointed out. “You should try to sleep if you can.”

“I did. I couldn't. Now I'm bothering you since you're on watch,” Maria replied, causing her partner to snort, creating a puff of smoke. “...What were those things, anyway?”

“I don't know. But the little ones weren't what froze you. That was their mounts,” Saphira told her. “Garrow and I weren't fazed when the little ones started shrieking when they broke into the farm.”

Maria hummed, pulling her legs close. She tugged off her glove and looked at the silvery palm it hid. The sign of a Dragon Rider, the Silver Hand. It looked like a sort of starburst, perhaps? She couldn't place it precisely. “Will we be good at this?” She asked. “Being a Rider and her dragon.”

“I chose you. That means you're the right one for the job,” Saphira replied firmly. “If nothing else, there is nobody in all of Alagaesia’s history and future who I could form a stronger bond with.”

Maria chuckled weakly, resting her head against Saphira’s side. “Thanks, Saphira. I appreciate it,” she thought.

“Of course. If anyone's going to pull you out of your head, it had best be the one in there with you,” Saphira teased.

Maria snorted and sighed, looking at her palm again before she put the glove back on and tucked her hands under her arms. “I feel bad for them. They followed us, and I appreciate that, but…” Maria shrugged. “Well, I know better than to ask them. Garrow always said never to question someone's resolve. It's rude to them and their decision. But… Is it okay if I worry with you?”

“Always, little one,” Saphira reassured her. “You've listened to my own worries, you deserve to have me listen to yours.”

“I seem to have more worries than you do,” Maria mused, smirking.

“You are also human,” Saphira replied dryly. “And humans tend to worry about so many things they needn’t.”

“Is that a jab or an acknowledgement?” Maria asked flatly.

“It is whichever exasperates you more,” Saphira answered, sounding immensely amused, causing Maria to huff.

“I'm going to sleep,” she thought primly.

“You'd better,” Saphira replied. “We've a long time until we finish our journey.”

“Years, at that,” Maria thought, grimacing as she closed her eyes. “I'll be a grown woman by the time our journey finishes. Talk about worrying.”

“Perhaps for the best, though. It would be wrong for a child to be consigned to war,” Saphira thought, bristling.

“I'm not a child,” Maria reminded her. “I'll be sixteen before we even reach Yazuac, nevermind the Varden.”

Saphira grumbled agitatedly but just tucked her wing closer, pushing Maria protectively into her side. Maria chuckled weakly as she snuggled close. Hard as Saphira’s scales were, she couldn't help feeling far more comfortable than she had under the blankets alone.

“Goodnight, Saphira. I love you,” she whispered.

She received an affirmation in kind from Saphira's thoughts just before she fell asleep.