Numero siete! Yes, I am utilizing my Spanish—but without the benefit of Spanish punctuation. Ah, well…

Yay for Eragon! –Which, mind you, I do not own…

And I played with the dates a bit—Saphira says in Brisingr that Brom told her of Eragon's lineage after they'd left Teirm, but I made it before because I just like Teirm that much.

The Secret I Held

He was woken by a prodding that was Saphira's expanding mind; her reach seemed to grow every day.

Brom?

Yes. He grinned despite himself, feeling with joy the familiar touch of dragon. What is it? It's the middle of the night.

I realize that, came Saphira's dry response. But have you told him yet?

What are you—

It took him a moment to understand, but once Brom realized what she was speaking of he shut his emotions down. Of course he had not told the boy! Why should he?

No, Saphira. I have not told him.

He felt her growl. Why not? He deserves to know!

That is hardly the issue.

Brom! Saphira roared, and he quailed under his covers despite himself. I did swear in the ancient language not to tell, but do not think that makes it any easier! I am loath to keep any secret from Eragon, even when necessary—but this! The one thing he desires to know above all else is about you! You, his—

Do not say it!

Brom felt Saphira freeze within his mind with a sense of regret; her confusion softened her tone a moment later. What you told me is true, is it not?

Biologically, it is. But in deed… in deed I am diminished, not near up to what a father should be.

Are you not? You taught him to read and to fight. Are these not things a father teaches his son?

Brom blushed and got out of bed, grumbling to himself. At length he touched Saphira's mind again, gently. You and my Saphira…so much alike! Always playing on my blasted conscience… But do you ever consider my feelings in this? Or, if not mine, hers—Selena's?

Saying the name jolted him, but he knew he must get his point across—especially when it concerned Selena's second child. Their child. Eragon grew up with a strong uncle and a protective aunt, and a cousin who soon became like a brother to him. Against that, what do you think I could have offered him? Saphira had no immediate response, and he plowed on. And was there any chance that Garrow and Marian would have believed my tale and let me raise Eragon? I would have been discrediting Garrow's sister, after all.

Saphira was firm. Go see him. Tonight.

Brom bristled, secretly fought down panic. But—

Tonight, Brom.

How dare she order me around, Brom fumed a moment later, stealing his way down the dark hall toward Eragon's room. She may be a dragon, and she may have my dragon's name, but I have long thought for myself before I ever laid eyes on the first Saphira, and I do not recall giving it up!

However, just as her presence had gradually abated in his mind (she too needed sleep, as she reminded him sardonically), so too did his initial indignance. Still, the closer he got to where Eragon currently slept, the more doubts kept coming to his mind.

Hatchling! How could she understand that I am as Jeod called me, just a crotchety old man, and could hardly raise a boy like Eragon? Ah, Arya, sending Saphira to Carvahall...you have wrought much without realizing it.

He was here.

The door lay before him, mocking him, daring him to knock and disturb Eragon's sleep. Brom wrestled with himself a few more moments, frustrated; until a solution came to mind that satisfied his turmoil, and he went inside.

'Go to him', Saphira said to me. She did not say 'wake him' or 'talk to him', only 'go to him'. That I can do.

Brom's eyes sharpened in the dark, roving the corners until he found Eragon's sleeping form... his son's sleeping form. Unbidden, more memories of Selena leapt to the forefront of his mind—her smiling, laughing, handing food to a beggar, cradling her elder son in her arms, stroking his arm under cover of night—

Blast! Could I have only Selena or Eragon? Could I not have had them both?

He moved closer and murmured "Brisingr" into the candle holder he had brought; a flicker of flame danced into it, dulling at his further wish and casting a gentle glow on Eragon's face.

His heart caught and twisted in his throat as he watched. His son's chin had tapered in the few months they'd been together; he was paler than he had been in Carvahall but still healthy. His dark hair was damp—it seemed he'd been sweating at some point during the night.

He cursed himself, cursed his bad luck, cursed Morzan and Galbatorix—for because of all of them, he had ended up here, watching Eragon sleep, holding the strongest and most painful of secrets inside himself.

Stupid old man. What are you doing here, pretending to be something you weren't for fifteen years?

Eragon moaned softly, driving all self-deprecating thoughts from Brom's mind—he reached out and stroked the boy's back, moving up to his shoulder. In sleep, the young man murmured another name—Garrow.

Naturally, fool. Did you expect him to speak your name?

"Garrow," the boy murmured again, oblivious to Brom's inner turmoil.

The latter wished intently that he had awoken in Carvahall sooner, that he had warned Garrow and spirited him away and destroyed the Ra'zac and a hundred other things.

"Roran...I'm sorry..."

Brom leaned in close to Eragon's ear and murmured: "I should be the sorry one, you know. Relax, and sleep well...my son."

His stray hand ruffled Eragon's damp hair, and he turned gruffly and left before Eragon's sad sighs could once again freeze his legs. Thus, he did not hear the soft murmur from the young man as he partly stirred, rolled over drowsily.

"Father..."

Brom...?

He turned a growl into a sigh. Yes, Saphira, I went to see him.

And?

He's admirable, Brom returned dryly. Just what I want in a son. In fact he's rather better asleep than awake.

Brom!

Did you expect me to have some sort of revelation? We are in the same position as we were in a few moments before. Eragon is oblivious, I am diminished...and that should not be changed, nor has it been.

But he was lying. Something was different than it had been, something inside of Brom himself, and Saphira noticed it despite all his efforts to quell that change.

You are thinking differently, Brom... Something has stirred inside of you, something I recognize.

If it is annoyance, you're absolutely right.

No. I sense protectiveness rising... you think of Eragon as your own now, do you not?

Brom bristled as he opened his own door and shut it firmly on the rest of Jeod's house—and thus the rest of the world. Preposterous! Eragon has family—Garrow, Roran, Selena, Marian, you. What could he possibly need of me?

Eragon needs you, Saphira insisted. Garrow and Marian are dead, she added, her voice going dry again, as is Selena, and Roran is a world away right now. He has no one else but you. Would you abandon him?

Brom's growl was helpless and angry—and grudging. Of course not... but it is not as easy as it may seem.

Bah! –You humans and your coy behavior when it comes to emotion—it is ridiculous to me. I may be a young dragon with no experience to boast of, but I can say that naught is more important that family, than love, than support, than many other countless qualities. Loyalty is one. Trust is another. And as a dragon, I know that it is pointless to hide such things from one another—especially if we are in as much danger as you say!

We are! Brom stressed anxiously, frustrated. At this very moment—

Then if so, you have no time to go around keeping your heart safe until the time is "right". Even my race did not have eternity...

With a stab of pain, Brom recalled the Riders' fall so long ago—and, worse, his place in it. Galbatorix, his Rider victim, Morzan, himself..

Yes, Saphira said gently; he sensed that his memories had both confused and ignited her thoughts. If we dragons had no chance then, what chance would you puny humans stand—specifically an ornery old father with stone ears and a soft heart?

She receded from his mind to sleep then, chuckling at her own wisdom.

But Brom remained awake longer, disturbed by her words and his new thoughts. In fact, he found little peace—not with his eyes closed, nor for the rest of the long night.

And with that done, I'll go back to typing Chapter Five of the Lost Flash, with some Kingdom Hearts thrown in. See you around.