Title: Brotherly Thinking
Author: Zhiole
Disclaimer: Eragon and the
Inheritance-Triology don't belong to me. Nor do the other characters,
they all belong to Christopher Paolini. I don't make money with this
fanfiction and it isn't meant serious. It's just for fun and
entertainment.
Language: English
Beta: Haven't found one yet. Interest,
anyone?
Rating: G? PG?
Warning: (slighty depressive thoughts,)
thoughts about killing or suicide, hints of slash
Short summary: Murtagh watches Eragon
one night and thinks about him. Not all of those thoughts are
positive. Set after Eldest.
Words: 651
A/N: No nativespeaker. I still haven't found a beta, my computer
doesn't understand english and I'm still not able to find 100 of all
the mistakes that happen. So please
don't flame me for my grammar/my english/the way I write etc. If you
find mistakes or something else, send me a
message and tell me about them, I'll learn from it, correct it and try
to make it better next time. Thank you.
- - - - - - - - -
Water runs down your back, pale in the moonlight, like porcelain. You became a man, it's visible in your movements, in the way you act, in the things you do. But still, you are so breakable, so much like the little boy I once met. You haven't learned how to use your strength yet, you don't know how. It's also visible in your movements; they appear to be safe and serious, but I can see that you hide your fears, hide the sadness and the nervousness.
You are sitting outside, in a forrest, taking a bath in a small lake. You know you shouldn't do this, that it is dangerous, even – or especially – for you. Hero of a whole country, the hope of so many people...ans still, you are taking that risk. Maybe you are really the little boy from the past. The naive, blonde boy with the questioning eyes and kind and friendly mind that will never be erased, never be replaced by hate and brutality. Not at all.
I wish it would be the same for me. I am a broken man already, I already suffered a death that I didn't want to die. And now I'm living again, even though it doesn't feel like living anymore. I have to do what he, Galbatorix, wants me to. The „work" isn't very pleasurable most of the time. Hunting down those who believed in you and your good mind isn't helping the bad mood, you know. Turning down the only person who believed in you gives you the rest. Makes you want to die, makes you drown in a feeling of hating yourself and hating everyone else. Thinking that the world is unfair.
What may have happened if I were the younger brother, instead of you, Eragon? Would you stand where I am standing right now, watching me? Would you cry and scream because you want to protect me but can't? Or wouldn't you matter? You don't matter about me right now, you just hate me beyond imaginable. Without knowing the reasons why he can control me. Without wanting to understand what I have been going through. Without looking at anyone that isn't you or your precious Arya.
I briefly wonder why she isn't with you yet, after you did nearly everything to get her. You two would be a nice couple, one of those that you can read about in Fairytales and stories. A prince and a princess, a hero and a heroine, a-
I shouldn't think about it. There is no hope for me to have a girlfriend or a wife anytime, nor to become a father. Would I be a good one? I'm not sure. Will Eragon become a good father? Well...I don't want to know. I will not be part of his family, so it doesn't matter, I suppose.
You turn around, looking into the darkness, two or three meters to the left of me. You won't see me sitting here. You won't, I know that. ou became too arrogant to see or hear me. Too blind to taste and smell me. Everything that matters is you.
You turn your backside to me again. I could kill you easily, if I wanted to. I'm not sure. Shall I use the opportunity? And follow you afterwards? Or maybe I should only leave this land, alone. Without you. So you can live a happier life, with a wife and many children and without a brother that betrayed everyone and everything.
You turn around again. I can't believe it, you are looking straight at me. There is fear visible, smellable. Not much, but enough. I want to step out and talk, but I know you don't want me to. So I take a step back, another and another.
I will leave you alone now, brother. Maybe it will be forever. I don't want to think about it now.