A/Notes: Posted 11-10-2012

I am cleaning up my profile page a bit, so I have decided to post this as a short story. It will likely only have two or three chapters, each containing flashbacks. It will be in Brom's POV, and first person {which I detest writing in.} But I do have it written both ways... first person and third person. And if I decide I don't like the job I am doing with first person, I may just replace it with the regular version. Feel free to give me input and constructive criticism.

Chapter One: For Her...

A chill ran down my spine at the sound of the blood-curdling scream. Even from outside in my garden shack, my posture stiffened with dread. Who was that screaming? And what was the dreadful occurrence behind such a sound. Panic crossed my features as I imagined something horrible happening to 'her.' But it only took a moment for me to remember that she had been sent with a mighty escort on a mission to the king's court only that very morning. She was safe, and relief washed over me, allowing me to think more clearly.

The fact that Morzan was inside the castle made it dangerous for me to enter, even disguised as a simple gardener. But the the wailing and cries continued, though it was nothing like the initial shriek of terror. And something inside me would not let the matter rest while the commotion was still going on.

Cursing quietly under my breath, I rose from my wicker sleeping mat and made my way to the servant's entrance of the castle. From there, I followed the back stairs to the level where I thought I had heard wailing. Of course, it had gone deathly silent now, leaving me to wonder if it was anything serious at all, or just some poor servant girl's over-reaction to the mighty Morzan's horrid temper.

I was nearly ready to turn around, when I saw a smear of blood on the wooden floor. Someone had stepped into blood and had left her tracks clearly on the floor leading to another stairwell. Whose life had the castle's master ended? I wondered and another chill took me. For I realized that if I was found on the grounds and recognized, that I would be the next of Morzan's victims. Scowling I edged forward, back tracking the prints to the source of the blood. This could be information that the Varden might need, but I had to be extremely careful. My stealthy movements betrayed my common clothes and appearance. I barely made any noise at all. In fact I could hear my heart beating in my ears louder than my own footfall.

The trail I was following led towards the library, and I very cautiously edged around the corner to come face to face with the shocking sight. Dark liquid splattered against the wall, and Morzan's bloodied sword left where it had clattered to a stop on the floor. That sword, Zar'roc, had been the very one that had ended my beloved Saphira's life. Bitterness welled up in me as the memory surfaced, nearly blinding me to my surroundings. Twisting with grief, my face clearly revealed my momentary torment.

At the sound of a soft whimper, I froze. In desperation, my eyes searched the hall for any sign of movement. All there was to see was a small mound, a tiny form in the center of a dark pool of blood. Another weak sound make my blood turn cold with realization.

'It couldn't be,' I thought stunned. But as I stepped nearer still, my worst fears were confirmed. The latest victim of the bloody sword was none other than Morzan's three year old son.

I was insufferably familiar with the pest of a child. Given little else constructive to do, Murtagh was often shoved outside to amuse himself in the inner castle grounds. It wasn't that the boy ever gave me any trouble, he would just turn up, watching me when I least expected it. Unnaturally quiet as well, the child had once appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, when I had been talking to myself, ranting actually. My shock had been so great, I truly had no idea what I had been saying at all, and I had worried for over a week at what the boy might have overheard.

And to make things worse, little Murtagh was a carbon copy of his cursed father, right down to the grim expression that he wore at all times. The child never smiled. Never. Not unless 'she' was around. She could bring the child eyes back to life. For her alone would Murtagh smile. And who could fault him for that, for even I smiled when I caught sight of Morzan's incomparable consort. Selena was beautiful, though never more so, than when she was spending time with Murtagh. I growled under my breath at the thought. I hated Murtagh for that very reason.

There had been a steady change in the engaging beauty over the last couple years, though she still worked under Morzan and the king, she had begun slipping the Varden intricate and accurate pieces of information that had greatly aided their cause. I had been her earliest contact, and we had contrived this gardener position to communicate beyond suspicion. But even I was not immune to her beauty, and had fallen in love with her, almost from the beginning.

She wanted to leave Morzan. Her love for him had turned into bitterness and desolation, though she hid it marvelously well. She told me she wanted to come with me, and for a while I believed her excuse of wanting to stay where she was, in order to aid the Varden in their fight against the king. But as I pressed her harder, she confessed that she could never leave her son. And Morzan had things set up so that it was impossible to get him away. Her tears had spilled down her face, as she realized that she was still a captive, even though she had changed enough to be freed from her oaths. For the beauty had know instinctively that Morzan had lost his grip on her, but as long as he held her son, she would always be bound.

Still several feet away from the boy's body, I became aware that seated inside the library Morzan himself was bent over one of the tables. He appeared to have fallen unconscious in a drunken stupor, but that could change with the slightest noise. Still, I was grateful that the monster was facing the other way, and would not notice the movements in the hall, should his eyes flicker.

My gaze returned to the child, filled with disgust as well as pity. For I detested this child as much as I did Morzan himself. A tiny moan, almost as if from an infant sounded, and the fingers of the tiny hand curled into a weak bloody fist. And as I watched, I felt the repulsive urge to go to him, to lift him up, and to run with him to safety. But I couldn't. I hated him, and wanted him to die. Selena would never be free as long as he lived.

A single hot tear rolled down my cheek. What had I become? How could I wish such a thing on a tiny child? Whatever the reason, I did hate him, and knew that the world could only be improved by his death. Even the boy's lot would be improved by death, for his life was void of any goodness.

The only joy he'd ever known were the few hours of time with his mother, granted them by the tyrant. Months would pass with the two never seeing each other. Selena would either be sent out on her own, or Morzan and Selena would venture off together, leaving the child in the care of the tightly controlled castle staff.

I didn't remember bending down, or taking off my cloak to wrap around the child. Nor did I recall hoisting the light burden up against my chest. But suddenly he was there, in my arms, and astonishingly, he was still alive. One of us shuddered, and for the life of me, I don't know whether it was him or me. Moving down the hall as quickly as I could, I gripped the child more tightly to keep him from jostling, but he moaned in pain. My heart caught in my throat, and fear that Morzan might awaken crept up my spine like ice water.

"Curse you," I shook the boy as I snarled under my breath, "do you want him to find us?" I hadn't meant to cause him more pain, but I could see that I had. His breathing came in gasps, and his little face contorted as he stifled another cry of pain. Suddenly, I hated myself even more than I hated the child. Loathing coursed through me mercilessly, and I felt almost as much animosity at that moment, as I did at the slaying of my dragon... my Saphira...

It was my own hesitation that had been our downfall, Saphira's and mine. And Morzan had known exactly what he was doing when he orchestrated that encounter. He knew how I felt about him. He knew that I could not believe he was really the enemy. And therefore, I wavered. I froze. In that moment, he gained the upper hand in the battle, both mentally and emotionally. And when I fell, Saphira had shielded me with herself...

Another shudder passed between us, the child and myself, and I refocused my attention on my surroundings. I was already outside the castle, and running... How I had gotten so far and undetected, I had no idea. But there were still several hours on foot between here and the nearest village, and this late at night there would be no travelers about to beg a ride from.

Still I had to try. Not for myself, and not for the boy... but for her...

A/Notes: 11-10-2012

Many of you may have already seen this posted on my profile page, so it may not be new to you. I hope knowing there will be more to come makes the repetition of reading this worthwhile.

Disclaimer: I am not CP... nope, not me. I didn't do it... I didn't write that green travesty. I swear.

R&R