After the End. Parody.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Inheritance Cycle, let alone the Writer.

A/N : This story … oops … parody, is dedicated to lioness94 and the Fixing Inheritance community.

1. Good Morning Alagaësia!

A beautiful summer day had dawned on Alagaësia. The sky was blue and cloudless, the sun shone over the earth and the weather was pleasantly warm. Blooming flowers had just opened their petals, while buzzing bees and colourful butterflies were crazily flying above the dew drops and the anthers bursting with polen. Little birds were already happily chirping in the scented air, when, on the bare slope of a hill, Murtagh woke up.

The Rider yawned and stretched, to relax his cramped muscles. He quietly walked up to the edge of the nearby cliff, examining contentedly the beauty of nature, when a thick puff of smoke obscured the clear day and caused him to cough his lungs out.

'Thorn!' the irritated Rider scolded his Dragon. 'Another one like this and you will make me feel like a passive smoker.'

Since the previous day, when they had firstly arrived, the Dragon had settled down on top of the hill, and now he was criticaly watching a flock of sheep, grazing in the meadow at the foothills.

'Oops, sorry, Rider' said the Dragon regretfully. 'Seeing the sheep down there, I was lured by the thought of tasting one or two, maybe half a dozen of them.'

Murtagh turned towards the top of the hill, facing his Dragon and touching the hilt of Zar'roc with his fingers.

'Most definitely you are not!' the Rider stated angrily. 'This flock belongs to the Dwarfs, and you are very well aware of their enmity against me. As if it were not enough that I've killed their late King, if you start eating their flocks now, who knows where this could lead.'

Thorn puffed another small amount of smoke out of his nostrils.

'This wouldn't have stopped me, but for their thick wool, which will stick between my teeth. But … wait a minute … if…' his sharp eye shone insidiously for a moment, causing a shiver down the Rider's spine. 'Yes! What a splendid, what a tremendously marvellous, what a wonderfully and fantastically good idea!' added the Dragon, and saying this, he unfolded his enormous wings, and with a menacing movement, swooped like an arrow towards the flock, before Murtagh could do a thing to stop him. In less than five minutes two fat, wooly sheep were lying killed in front of the legs of the Rider.

'What do you mean, I have to skin them for you?' Murtagh crossed his hands on his chest, irritation starting to stir inside him.

'So that the wool wont stick between my teeth …'

'You do not care about my enmity with the Dwarves!' Murtagh exploded. 'Is this the importance you give to your Rider?'

'I am your Dragon! You're supposed to take care of me! And not just your Dragon, but your hungry one, as well' Thorn stated seriously. 'Now, if you would be kind enough to skin …'

'No! once and for all, no, no and no!' Murtagh kicked angrily the dirt and rocks under his boots. 'I will not interfere in this! I've told you that these sheep belong to the Dwarves!'

'Hrothgar belonged to the Dwarves too' Thorn complained, totally displeased.

The Rider raised his hands in despair.

'Nobody will ever understand!'

'You have never explained it to me!' Thorn tried to justify his actions. 'Why did you do it Murtagh? The King never commanded you to do such a thing. He was surprised to learn of it.'

'Why. Did. I. Do. It!' the Rider accentuated the words one by one. 'How am I supposed to know?' he exploded, his anger taking control of him. 'I wasn't even there when the decision was taken Thorn; and I was not responsible for my actions back then, as I had practically missed almost a whole book.' The Rider ran his fingers through his hair. His voice took a malicious tone. 'It was the Writer who had decided for me to do it, so, the blame is not on me. He should be called Kingkiller, not I. After all, he left me with so many memory lapses, I do not even remember what happened for months.'

'You should not speak like this of the Writer' Thorn started saying, 'unless you want an encounter with …'

Tremendous thunder was heard and a strong voice echoed, not just inside both their minds, but in every soul around to hear, causing the flock of the sheep to start running as fast as they could.

'…him again.'

'You! Ungrateful creature! Have you turned against your Creator again?'

'Too late!' Thorn commented.

This was not the first time the Supreme Being had made his appearance. A few months earlier, during one of his Rider's tantrums and torrent of curses, this voice had appeared, menacing, threatening, and had scared both of them to death. The late King Galbatorix's presence was nothing compared to this. And his angers seemed like sweet, dripping syrup in a cup of lemon tea. Thorn perched on the hilltop and covered his head with his long wing, his appetite for skinned sheep already lost.

'Ungrateful creature!' The voice repeated angrily. 'I am the one who has created you in the middle of the first book, I permitted you to rest in peace for the other two and a half books – except for a few pages here and there – and now, you dare call me names? Am I your Creator or not?'

Murtagh fell to his knees and started shaking from the shock the voice had caused him entering his mind. The Writer had unfortunately returned!

'You, my stray son!' the Writer continued unstoppable. 'I have created you young, strong, clever, healthy – except for this little scar …'

Listening to this, Murtagh dared to raise his head.

'About this scar … I would like to have one word or two with you some time …'

'Do. Not. Interrupt. Rider!' the Writer thundered again, causing him to tremble again on his knees and bow his head. 'Now, what was I talking about? Oh, yes. I made you fearless and determined, rebellious, even loyal sometimes. The dark type of hero girls get crazy about, and still you are not satisfied. Not to mention that the one and unique time you smile, I made you strikingly handsome.' The tremendous scolding had caused the Rider's submission to this Supreme Creature, and he would have subsided if the next sentence was not spoken, at least not with a tone of self-conceit. 'I even permitted you to live in the end.'

That was too much. Murtagh once again jerked angrily.

'You left me trudging in a world of anger. I would like to be in the things, I would like to be a part of the story. And I would like to stay.'

'You see?' the Writer's voice echoed again. 'Never happy!'

'You separated me from my brother, I was very fond of the boy, I would like to stay and help.' The cascade of complaints began to spring out of the Rider's chest. 'And then it is Nasuada's case …' he started again, to be cut short.

'It was inevitable that you leave' the Writer thundered again. 'She was a mortal woman and you're a Dragon Rider.'

'You could have arranged things better!' This time the Rider's voice echoed strict and determined.

'If you imply your separation, Rider, then know that this is something that often happens in the real world' the Writer justified himself with some conceit.

'If your readers wanted to read about the real word, they would have opened the newspaper and not your books.' Murtagh raged.

'Rider!' Writer's voice took a more quiet tone, even soothing. 'Not only have I spared your life, but I've made you leave exactly at the proper time. You were so angry and damaged that your presence would only cause trouble. I'm proud of myself that I've made you clever enough to understand this. Would you rather damage the newly established peace with your presence? Would you rather harm Nasuada, the one you had already hurt so much with your own hands?'

Of all the things said that was the worst. Murtagh drew Zar'roc from its scabbard and waving it around, raged against the Writer.

'You, wicked, awful creature! Of all the terrible things you've done to me, this was the most terrible!'

'Do not blame me, Rider, but the King. After all, this was his own idea. And let me remind you that I am not a 'creature' but the Creator!' the Writer was calm now, even jovial. 'Look around you, my son! All this beautiful land and the beings in it, is my own creation. But this is something we will discuss about some other time. Now, I have to go. I'm keeping a meeting with my publisher. Have a nice day, Rider.' And the voice inside his mind vanished.

Murtagh, angrily kicked the dirt and stones under his feet once again. He stabbed forcefully at a rock the size of an armchair embedding the blade up to the hilt.

'Oouch!' Thorn commented. 'Beware, Murtagh, or else you will create another legend. We'd better go hunting.'

The Rider snorted angrily, kicked against the stone once again, and then he drew his blade back, and placed Zar'roc into its scabbard.

'Why is it that every time I wake up in high spirits to enjoy a beautiful day, everything gets on my nerves?' Murtagh's unused voice ground at his ears.

'You should not have provoked the Creator, in the first place,' Thorn stated.

'I cannot stand him! He is worse than the King. You know very well that I dislike others touching my mind.'

'You're oversensitive about it, my Rider.' The Dragon said joyfully. 'He is not breaching your mind, he is just talking to you.'

'He'd better not!'

Thorn descended the hilltop and sniffed at the sheep. His long tongue dragged onto the fleece, tasting the wool.

'Yuck!' the Dragon mentally spat. 'Who wants to eat this? Would you, Murtagh?' And earned a venomous glare from his Rider.

'Let's leave this place and go hunting.' Murtagh grabbed the saddlebags and dashed them angrily over the back of his Dragon, checking the straps on Thorn's harness before he climbed up into the saddle.

With a powerful leap, Dragon and Rider were in the air in an instant, the wind whipping against Murtagh's face and hair. Up there, he sensed his anger subside, but the original feeling, the one he experienced once he had woken up this morning, had already vanished.

… Nasuada … if we could …

The happily chirping birds around them hurriedly flew away, croaking frightened under the presence of the mighty Dragon.

'I would like to befriend one of them, some day' Thorn innocently stated. 'I dislike them being so afraid of me.' And then he acknowledged his Rider's moody silence.

'We could go and abduct her' the Dragon suggested.

'Thorn! We cannot go and abduct the Queen just like that' the Rider frowned.

'We have done this before' said the Dragon. 'And, I dare say, with absolute success' he added. 'After all, the custom of abduction of a bride is a traditional custom in many places of the world. If you do it, it won't be a novelty.'

His Rider was taken aback.

'How do you know about this?'

'You read it in some ancient scrolls once' answered the Dragon. 'I've seen this in your memories, my Rider.'

Murtagh considered for a minute the idea of abducting his bride and finally dismissed the thought.

'I could never do such a thing again. Back then … this was another matter' he sighed.

'But you would like to abduct her' the Dragon mentally teased him.

Murtagh brooded for a while.

'Yeah, … I would …' he finally admitted.

Later, as they were headed towards an area with plenty of hunting, this strange idea of abduction returned to his mind. And, very strangely, it remained there to grow upon him, throughout the rest of the morning.

It was a beautiful day in Alagaësia.

A short excerpt from the upcoming chapter :

Ruling a Kingdom is a Very Difficult Task.

…

Nasuada leaned once again in her armchair. Her thoughts flew towards a certain Rider.

… If only Murtagh was here …

She imagined him preside over the parliament, his steely gaze staring down all the opposed parties. If only he was here … And if his mighty Dragon did her the favor to growl …

Oh! Just one little, … so little … loud and menacing growl, they wouldn't have dared make this commotion. Would they?

…..

A/N : Thanks for reading.