Disclaimer: The books aren't mine so no money is being made off of this project.
Introduction: Being rather sick and tired of the usual affair, I decided to try out something rather different. This has "M"-rated content though, particularly in the first chapter. While most is in the summary there are mentions of child abuse, neglect, emotional trauma, slavery bondage, and assassination. Also, while Eragon uses fur rugs I don't condone the use of them in real life nor anything else depicted in this AU. It's a fantasy world so I'm allowed a little leeway. I tried to make Eragon's character the exact opposite of what it was in the books hence this unusual chapter, so no flames please. If this is not to your liking then look elsewhere as there is plenty to read on this website. But if you do like it than don't forget to review since your feedback is all I get for my efforts. But enough talk. I'll shut up now and let the story begin. Also, Eragon's mother, Selena, was said to be a part of the Black Hand so that gave me the idea for this story.
Chapter 1: Bleak Beginnings
Eragon's mind wandered, as it always did after another day of business came to an end. It was late in the evening and the city of Drass-Leona was fast asleep, shrouded in a gray mist and pelted with a light drizzle making it look serene but eerie at the same time. It was his favourite time of the day, or rather night. The reason being, it was the best time for business. But Eragon had an appointment with an unknown client and so he was waiting in his office.
Inky dark walls of black marble surrounded him and a domed roof shielded him from the elements. A single round window allowed a soft beam of moonlight to filter in making the atmosphere all the more foreboding and menacing.
Eragon sat behind a large ebony desk with his feet propped up on the corner of it, puffing away at a wooden pipe as he poured over some scrolls and manuscripts. Upon a closer look, one could tell that they were building plans, usually those of a castle or palace but sometimes also of a manor or a wealthy house.
A large thick book with a dark red cover lay open on the table and upon it was scrawled in messy hand-writing a list of names. Many of these names were crossed out but some were still waiting it seemed. Beneath each of the name was a list of directions and a small summary about the person, be it man or woman.
An ink pot in the shape of half a skull sat beside the book and a quill rested in the container. Papers, scrolls, and manuscripts were strewn all around the desk as well as numerous other items: Strange metal bells, a blade hung by a thread in some kind of wooden frame, a miniature gallows, a small figurine of a chopping block with a beheaded person kneeling on it.
The rest of the room was decorated in a similar if not more disturbing fashion: Rows upon rows of weapons covered every corner of the walls. These ranged from various swords of all kinds including human, magician, elvish, or dwarvish, even Urgal blades. Knives of various shapes, sizes, and colours were also on display as well as several spears, spikes, maces, and bows – both recurved and longbows.
The fur coats of different types of monsters, gigantic wolves and bears or even more terrifying beasts, were spread out on the floor and the busts of these and other creatures, including dragon skulls, were hung almost proudly on the walls.
Eragon himself was dressed in a black cloak with a hood pulled up well over his head. The cloak was open revealing a skin-tight black leather outfit beneath. His face was covered by a black mask of some sorts except for his eyes which were full of steel as they bored into the list of names held in his hand.
A dagger was thrust into the surface of the table but it could be easily used if necessary although it was mainly there for show, since Eragon had more daggers planted throughout his person in secret of course. He'd rather use these if the need arose but if it came down to it there were lots of other traps and devices planted throughout the room and the hallway leading up to it.
These were also protected by spells so that they would only trigger by someone of ill-intent. Needless to say, Eragon was a force to be reckoned with and he was quite confident that his client wasn't here to pose a threat. Clients only did that if they were very, very powerful and wanted to warn Eragon not to double-cross them.
You see, Eragon was an assassin.
That's right.
He worked with the Black Hand and had risen through the ranks. At first, he was a shy quiet boy thanks to his sickening past. He wasn't always the ruthless cunning assassin who played with people like chess.
He was once a kind caring boy, loyal to the people who raised him. But they weren't their parents and showed their true colours as soon as possible. He shouldn't have been there in that village. But as soon as he could understand them, his parents revealed to him that he was sent there by some farmer called Garrow from the Valley of Carvahal.
Apparently, he had been dropped off there by his mother Selena who used to be a Black Hand and was one of the most feared assassins of all time. No one knew why she gave him up but it was obvious she thought he'd be cared for and loved as a son by the kind-hearted farmer who had a wife and son of his own.
But something happened and his wife died leaving him a widower with a son of his own to raise and a farm to handle. He just didn't have the time to raise Eragon and couldn't be bothered with an extra mouth to feed as much as he wanted to fulfil his sister's wishes. So he gave Eragon to the first family he could find.
Unfortunately for Eragon, those people were tricksters and would always adopt children so they could twist them into being submissive and sell them as slaves. There were always orphans in the mountains and they made a very profitable business. Eragon's early life was hell. His "parents" made him work himself to the bone as soon as possible.
They never let him leave the cottage that was a few days away from the nearby village. They beat him soundly whenever he complained or asked why he had to do the work. At first, he wondered what he was doing wrong and couldn't comprehend why these people were being so mean to him. But eventually, enough beating and cussing made him learn.
Eragon also learned to swear from these people and often did so although under his breath. His "parents" would whip him if they heard him curse. He was hardly fed either and merely given the scraps his folks, no his owners, considered to be too poor for them to eat. When he turned twelve, Eragon was introduced to sex first by his "mother" and then by his "father."
Despite how many times he begged them not to touch him they did it anyway and showed him how to please women and men alike. To make sure he understood how to do it with other people and not just them they invited some of their friends over for the night and Eragon was passed on like a sack of potatoes to them.
Some of the people were nice to Eragon but most were cruel sick people who left him in a bloody sobbing heap in the corner of the attic when they were done with him. Needless to say, Eragon vowed revenge more than once but the chance never came. Months turned to years and Eragon almost gave up hope.
But on his fifteenth birthday, when he was to be sold as a slave, a band of Urgals poured into the village. It was a bloodbath. Nearly everyone was either raped or slaughtered but none escaped alive. None save Eragon. His folks didn't make it out alive either.
In the confusion, Eragon made sure they didn't survive by accidentally dropping a torch in the doorway as he went outside to see what happened. Their screams as they burned alive brought a grim smile to his face and he felt more powerful than ever before. But the Urgals were still around so he snuck away in the chaos that followed leaving his home in a pile of ashes.
During his travels, he had to do all sorts of things to survive whether it was stealing, burning, killing or seducing the daughter, or son, of some nobleman. In time, all of Eragon's emotions burned away leaving an empty cold shell. Eventually, he found his way to the bustling city of Drass-Leona where crime was rampant in the streets.
The governor of the city was corrupt as anything and turned a blind eye to the people's plight. That served Eragon well since he eventually joined the Black Hand. At first, he simply sought it out to find his mother. But the Black Hand informed him that she left their ranks despite being the most deadly lethal assassin they had ever known.
Oddly enough, he felt he owed them something for their loss so he stayed with the assassins. At first it was to find his feet but then it became a regular thing and soon he was a member of the secretive, largely-unknown group. He soon discovered he possessed a natural prowess in the art of moving unseen and took a delight in killing as opposed to merely robbing someone blind.
He did that too but found he was better at assassination than stealing. All too soon, he rose through the ranks and made a name for himself as the Hand of Darkness. He was even offered leadership of the guild by the Guild Master himself but declined not wanting to be tied down like so. Instead, he accepted the quaint little office the guild offered him as a reward for his services.
The guild would also turn a blind eye to him so that he could kill as he pleased without checking in first to see if his target was part of some other contract, which suited Eragon just fine. Of course, this made him enemies in the guild as older assassins became jealous of his rise to fame and glory but he crushed all resistance and soon became the most infamous and feared assassin in all the land.
So it was that Eragon found himself sitting in his office like he usually did most nights, being plagued with insomnia from his childhood, when his client took it upon himself to finally arrive. A knocking at the door stirred Eragon into attention and the young assassin placed his paper down with a sigh. So many names unchecked, so little time.
"Enter," He called, unable to stifle the boredom in his voice.
Clients all wanted the same thing: Revenge. Honour killings and vengeance were among the most popular reasons for hiring him. Or it was the other side of the coin where someone was getting too powerful and his client wanted that person out of the way. Whatever the case, it earned him some shiny coins and helped him to pass the time.
Finally, the door opened and a cloaked figure stepped throughout it. The figure was obviously a man and clutched a worn satchel over his shoulder. With his face guarded by the shadow of his hood, he glanced around furtively at the alarming decorations on Eragon's office.
This was perfectly normal and a usual routine. Every client did that and Eragon didn't mind. In fact, it helped to invoke terror in most of his clients and told them that he was not some foolish novice new to the trade. No. He was a force to be reckoned with and deserved the respect his assassination skills afforded him.
But if this new client was at all worried by the gruesome decorations, he failed to show it. Instead, he strode up calmly to Eragon. His body was relaxed and his pace was even suggesting he was not at all concerned by the lethal weapons and the sinister decor on display, nor even Eragon's unusual costume. Most of the Black Hand didn't wear this outfit since they wore normal clothes in an attempt to blend in with the general populous. But this was Eragon's trademark outfit and he liked it that way.
"Are you the one called the Hand of Darkness?" The man asked softly.
Eragon gave himself a mental shake and glanced up appraisingly at the old man pretending to be uninterested and bored. Truth be told, he was rather bored but there was something about the casual manner in the old man when he strode into the office that made Eragon intrigued. His clients weren't usually that confident.
Either he had no fear of such things or he was a threat to be taken into consideration. If he was this powerful that he didn't fear the most notorious assassin Alagaësia had ever known, then who knew how dangerous the man's desired target was or what he, or she, had done? Stifling a pang of uncertainty, Eragon put down his pipe and folded his arms across his chest. Taking a moment to collect his thoughts, he nodded and peered from under his hood at the man.
"Aye, that is one of my titles," Eragon said hollowly.
It was no boast, merely a statement; an acknowledgement.
"Then I need your assistance in a dire matter," The man explained.
Eragon almost rolled his eyes. The situations were always 'most dire' but even so, he was not prepared for the next words that came out of the man's mouth, and he almost fell off his chair in shock.
"I need you to slay a Shade for me Eragon," The man said grimly.
TO BE CONTNIUED
