So , here it is, my first Inheratence fanfic after reading the book. I'm actually a bit suprised that I didn't write about Murtagh and Nasuada... Oh well, I'm sure I'll get around to that.
Anyway, this fanfiction is dedicated to King Orrin. I can't begin to describe how upset I am about Paolini's portrayal of him. Yes I know, making Orrin attack Roran and trying to take control of Alagaesia added to the plot, blah, blah, blah, but he was my favorite character damn it! So I decided to write this. It's basically a short monologue in Orrin's point of view, and it takes place some time after he attacks Roran.
That bastard. That good-for-nothing, lowly son of a bitch. How dare that peasant tell him what he should do? If you were to listen to Roran, you would imagine that the roles were switched; that he was the king and that Orrin, son of Larkin and ruler of Surda, was nothing but a subject.
Orrin snorted derisively and took another swig from the wine bottle he had clenched in his fist. The bastard had nerve, he had to admit that. Roran had even gone so far as to have Jörmundur tell him that if he dared harm a hair on Katrina's head, Roran would hunt him down and kill him as slowly and as painfully as possible.
As if he gave a damn about the wife. Right now all he wanted to do was wrap his hands around Roran's neck and squeeze the life out of him. Katrina would be useless in extracting the kind of vengeance Orrin longed for.
A vague thought began form in the murky depths of his mind, and Orrin began to grow even angrier. Did they think he was so base, so cowardly, that he would attack a woman? Of all the jabs Roran had made at Orrin's honor, this was the worst. First he was a fool who didn't understand the cost of war (which was ludicrous, of course he understood the cost; his best friend had died to pay that price), and now he was a coward.
He poured some more wine down his throat hastily, and continued his half-crazed monologue.
Oh they were all alike: Roran, Eragon, Jörmundur-even Nasuada- didn't show him the level of respect that he deserved. He had a plan that could have saved them all, and he had shot it down without any consideration of who he was dealing with.
Well no longer! He would prove them wrong, even if he had to die to do it! Orrin had drained the bottle by now, and was feeling considerably braver. He cared little about Roran's insubordination. He was a king, gods damn it, and a damn good one at that. He could defeat that peasant in any fair fight. He resolved to do so after everything was said and done. But at the moment he had a more important matter to deal with.
Where the hell had he put that other bottle of wine?
Thank you for readig, and please review.