Attack on Titan and Inheritance cycle crossover

Attack on Eldunarí

Summary: After defeating Galbatorix Eragon travels to the far east in search of a place to begin his self-chosen exile, but what he finds instead causes him to reconsider his choices regarding his no-interference policy. He can't just leave these people to suffer, can he? Title may change.

I've been reading fanfics for a good while now, and even though I started many myself, I never found them good enough to actually post here. I really liked writing this particular story, even though there isn't really much happening yet.

Spoilers: All of the inheritance cycle, Shingeki no Kyojin up to chapter 50

Disclaimer: I do not own the Inheritance cycle or Shingeki no Kyojin.

Eragon yawned as Saphira glided downward towards the atol. The tiny ring-shaped island provided little shelter, but it would have to do. The glittering blue dragon was tired, and so was her Rider. After she landed on the pristine beach Eragon immediately slided off her back, groaning with discomfort. They had flown over the ocean for eleven days straight without landing, and it had made them both sore and miserable.

I never knew we could do that Saphira commented after a long silence. Flying for this long.

The dragons helped. he answered, as he started to relieve her of her saddle. The dragon hummed an affirmative and rolled her shoulders, glad to be rid of the annoying thing. Every time Saphira had run out of steam, the Eldunarí had given her their strength so they would not plummet out of the sky.

How long do you think this sea can go on? Eragon asked, looking at the distant eastern horizon. What if it is without an end, and just goes on and on until we forget what land is like?

Saphira reveled in the warm sand, cleaning her scales from the long ordeal in the sky. I do not think that likely. But if it does, we must simply make our own land.I am certain that with the combined strength of the Eldunarí we could make ourselves comfortable any place. Or we could turn back and make our home in the Eastlands.

Let's hope it doesn't come to that. He answered. The Eastlands had turned out to be beautiful, but none of the idyllic mountains, valleys and deserts had felt like home. And maybe they wouldn't, maybe he would never be able to think of any place other than Palancar Valley as his home. Maybe he would never find any place where he could find his peace. But every time he thought they had found a good spot and had stayed there for a few days, they had always left. And at some point they had run out of land and started flying oversea.

Saphira let out a low grumble and said: Maybe we just aren't ready to settle down yet. She began licking her talons. You promised me an adventure, didn't you? We travelled far, but never encountered anything worthy of the term.

Eragon agreed. Hunting exotic animals and meeting with the people living on high wooden rafters along the eastern shore had been exiting, but after the war and battle with Galbatorix himself, everything seemed dulled, as if the world has had its edge taken off.

Saphira nudged him with her snout. It would not be good to dwell on these things. she said gently. You are tired. Rest, and tomorrow will be a brighter day. Maybe we will even find land. Real land, unlike this tiny dune one can hardly turn their tails on.

Eragon smiled. It has the most interesting shape though. I wonder how it was created, perfectly round and filled with another perfectly round lake. It looks like it was crafted by dwarves, or sung from the earth by elves.

Saphira chuckled. Or it was a dragon who, like us, found herself without a good landing.

Perhaps. We will probably never know.

No, but I would like to think it was a dragon.

Then it was. Goodnight, Saphira.

Goodnight, little one.

Eragon's dreams were a motley mess of memories both good and bad. He dreamed of finding Saphira's egg, scrying Carvahall and finding it ruined and burned, sitting beside Oromis in the Crags of Tel'naeír, the dragon-killing lance stabbing Saphira at Belatona, Orik playing a game of riddles with Saphira while flying over the Hadarac desert. He awoke well-rested, but confused from the conflicting emotions that had plagued him during the night. Saphira was still deep asunder when he got up and stretched his stiff limbs. He looked at her for a bit, but after a while concluded that she would not wake just yet. So he took the time to sift the salt out of a bulb of seawater so he might wash himself. He also changed into a clean tunic and breeches, washed his smelly clothes and hung them from a gnarly tree to dry. Then he changed his mind and removed his tunic again, proceeding into the Dance of Snake and Crane. He was in the middle of the third set when Saphira awoke with a loud yawn. They greeted each other warmly before Saphira went to catch her breakfast and Eragon finished his set before switching to sword training. It was a delight to be using his muscles again after being confined to the saddle for so long, even though his body protested frequently.

Saphira returned before long, telling Eragon about schools of tiny multi-coloured fish in the circular lake and diving for the larger grey fish in the sea.

They were delicious, all salty and juicy. It is a pity you no longer partake of meat. I am certain you would have found them tasty as well.

Maybe I will at that. We have almost run out of food rations, and I would like to keep them for the journey over sea.

Eragon spent the rest of the morning exploring the island while Saphira gave her scales an extensive tongue-bath. It consisted mainly of sand and some of the same knobby trees he had hung his clothes on. He found that the bottom of the salt lake was covered in living coral. He marvelled at it, remembering how the dwarves had used coral as proof that stone is alive and growing, while the elves had taught him it was only the exoskeleton of a tiny creature. He tentatively cast his mind over the rocks and was delighted to find tiny pinpricks of life speckling the coral. He told Saphira about his findings, who was amused, but not thoroughly impressed.

It only took Eragon two hours to circle the island, but it had left him hot and sweaty. So he just bathed again, knowing that he might not have another opportunity to do so the coming days.

The sun stood high in the sky by the time the dragon and her Rider said farewell to the island and took to the skies again. They flew high where the air was thin and cold and Saphira could muster greater speeds with less energy. As the days went by, they spotted more and more little islands. Some were made of solid, jagged rock, others out of coral reef and still others just seemed to be clusters of trees rising from the waves. They stopped often those days, fascinated by the uniqueness of all the little places. They sometimes went off course for miles and miles just to catch another little island. Some had weird, exotic plants and others had birds that weren't afraid of him at all, without him even having to speak to them in the Ancient Language. There were also fruits in all sorts of exotic flavours and shapes. One island even had plants that looked like they bore fruit, but actually had sticky appendages that were meant to catch insects and tiny birds.

And then there were no more islands. They had had such a relaxing time they had forgotten how hard it actually was to fly for days. Before long they became sullen and irritable again, regretting having left the beautiful islands. They were seriously considering returning, but in the end Saphira ended the discussion with a curt sentence.

I am a dragon, not one of those little finches you have come to like so much. Besides, I am sick of eating fish. I long for some real meat. And there wasn't much argument after that.

They had left the last island behind them seven days ago, when Saphira first spotted land. They spoke exitedly with each other while the brown line grew faster and faster until they could discern steep cliffs and rocky beaches. Seagulls screeched indignantly when they approached, but Eragon and Saphira paid them no mind. The blue dragon bellowed happily when they saw the green fields appear beneath them, scaring a small herd of sheep that had been grazing closeby. Saphira eyed them hungrily, so Eragon laughed: Go ahead, just drop me off by that knoll. I'll build a fire. It'll be just like old times.

Except this time there was no Brom, or Murtagh, or Arya or Orik. Just him and the dragons.

While Saphira and the Eldunarí were excellent company, he missed having two-legged creatures around them. Dragons were, after all, dragons, and their thoughts and conversations worked differently. Suddenly the idea of being in strange land without any of his kind seemed so appaling to him, he could feel it physically. A sharp pang went up his spine and heat rose to his face. His hands trembled, so he quickly clenched them into fists while he coiled himself into a ball by the half-constructed fireplace.

Eragon! shouted Saphira, feeling his anguish, but he shut her out. She of all beings would understand his feelings, having believed all her life that she was one of the last dragons alive, but her sympathy would not help him. His chest heaved heavily while he sobbed. The faces of his friends ghosted trough his mind. Roran, Orik, Brom, Murtagh, Blodghärm, Nasuada, Gertrude and all his friends from Carvahall... Arya... He tried pushing her from his head to focus back on the other people he missed, but the image was so intense, so clear, her face so beautiful and captivating, he found himself unable to think of anything else.

The exotic and interesting islands had distracted him from his thoughts, but here, among familiar-looking fields and trees, he found himself completely overrun by his own thoughts. Feelings he had suppressed and marginalized for weeks suddenly popped up like vengeful spirits. He did not sense Saphira approaching until she nudged his huddled frame with her nose. From an instincual longing for companionship he opened up his mind and hugged her mentally and physically, feeling guilty for giving her his pain, but even more grateful of her presence.

Little one she said softly.

They sat there like that for minutes and hours. The day grew longer and the time for hunting and foraging went and passed. The air became cold and the sun dropped below the horizon. At last Eragon pulled away from his dragon, who had been patiently waiting for him to recover from the turmoil in his head.

Thanks, Saphira

She only hummed and blinked in response.

Ah, just look at how dark the sky became already. The day came and past, and time meant for celebration was wasted with grief. I even kept you from your hunt.

There is no need to apologize. I require your well-being more than I need fat little I will not have you call this time wasted. You have kept these thoughts within you for to long, and they have festered like a lodged arrowhead.

You are right. I was so busy being happy that I forgot about all the rest. Ah, Saphira, I had forgotten how much it hurts.

She lit the half-finished campfire site with a flame from her nostril. I know she said. Go rest a bit. Your emotions have drained you.

No, I think I would be best helped with some fresh air, some wind to blow the cobwebs out of my head.

Very well. But take Brisingr. These lands might resemble our own, but they are still foreign to us. Better to be cautious.

Eragon agreed and took the brilliant blue sword from his saddlebags. I'll be back in an hour or so. he told her and jogged into the twilight landscape. It truly was much alike to Alagaesia, although there were many plants he didn't recognise. The rolling fields ended just a few miles away from the coast, where they were swallowed by short decidious trees, bent from the constant sea-wind. He wound his way through it. It was not an old forest. Most of the trees were only just reaching maturity, a fact that Eragon found curious. The evening air felt especially cold against his hot, tear-streaked face, but he soon grew accostumed to it, and after a while it only felt soothing. Already he could sense his thoughts becoming clearer and his emotions more subdued.

An hour had passed when he exited the forest. At least, that is what Eragon thought when he stepped into the clearing. In fact, the forest spread outward for another mile or so in the direction he was going. What made him think he exited the forest was the fact that he was currently surrounded by short, stocky buildings.

They had obviously been abandoned for decades. Shrubbery and grass had taken over the streets, and most houses had their roofs missing. Instead the crowns of the same short trees stuck out above the houses' empty frames. Eragon found the sight incredibly sad to watch. Immediately he sent a mental image of the village to Saphira, who took wing the moment she recieved it. Eragon reached out with his mind, but found no trace of human life anywhere in the near vicinity. Curious, he started looking around, his hand on the pommel of his sword. What he found made him swallow in revulsion. This town not just been abandoned. Several of the houses bore the marks of a fight and when he turned a corner, he found a large mount of bones, bleached from age. It seemed that even the animals hadn't been at them, because none of the bones had teethmarks on them, or were cracked for the marrow. He swallowed dryly while Saphira landed with a loud crash. She sniffed the pile of bones

They do no longer smell of man. They must have died a long time ago.

Yes. I am guessing some war took them worries me more is the fact that no one has come here to reclaim the land, or even only bury these poor souls. People obviously lived here in the past, and it is good land. So why not now?

We can only guess, little one. But in the meantime I suggest caution. It might not mean anything, but maybe something is keeping people from returning here. In that case we must be on our guard.

She stomped the ground angrily. I do not like this. It smells too much like war and danger and two-leg killers. Things we left behind us. I will not place you in this sort of danger anymore. Eragon, we should leave this place be and roost in a mountain, where we can see the arrows flying our way.

Saphira, you are tired, and it is dark, and we do not know if there even are any mountains should rest by the knoll and search for a better place tomorrow. I do not like it any more than you do, but these are very old tracks. I very much doubt the forces that slew these people are still at large today. We should be safe if we just stay the one night. Besides, we are strong! A mighty dragon and rider, along with many Eldunarí. Whatever comes at us, we can overcome.

The dragon looked at her Rider for a long time, before blinking an affirmative. All right. But after this night, we will be gone.

They agreed and returned to their camping site. As had become their habit, Eragon slept against her side, leathery wing draped over him like a tent.

That night, he dreamed of Jazuac.

That same day, many miles away, a young man with wild eyes shouted his defiance before a room filled of people who loathed him and feared him.


His waking dreams were disturbed by the sound of a low, distant Boom. He felt it more than he heard it, but he was immediately on his feet, knocking his head against the membrane of Saphira's wing. Boom.

Saphira? Did you hear that?