A/N: This is actually a post of mine from a role play I was doing with a friend of mine, and I liked it enough to post it as drabble. Reviews are love! xD

Galbatorix frowned. "I really had more faith in you, Murtagh. I told you to torture the girl, and she still spoke with a defiant tongue. That tells me either I didn't make myself clear enough, or you are going soft." I took a steadying breath and looked at him.

"I tortured her, as you asked. It is not my fault if she is resilient." Galbatorix hissed angrily and backhanded me suddenly, making my head whip to the side. I held my tongue against the flurry of complaints that came to my lips.

"It doesn't matter if she is resilient, you keep on going! I wanted her scarred, boy, and you went easy. Why?!" He spoke harshly, and I had to work not to lean away from him. He was using my binds to him to send pain through me, and I knew from that just how angry I had made him. I blinked and slowly looked up, meeting his eyes.

"I do not share your lust for pain, Galbatorix."

He scowled. "I think you're lying to me, boy. You know I don't appreciate that." His voice was cold, and made me shiver.

His hand shot out with a speed one would think incapable of his ancient body and gripped my forehead, fingers digging into my scalp. I winced, but I knew that was only the tip of the iceberg. He immediately began to attack my mind, and he tore through my shields effortlessly and poured through my memories of the last few days. He was furious over the fact I let Eragon go, and he was even angrier at the way I had tortured Arya. He was about to drop the connection when my memories shifted to my encounters with Arya. He had discovered my past with her, but didn't even remember it until now. The grip on my forehead grew tighter and tighter as he watched what happened. I hated him listening in on such private, such personal moments, but I knew there was nothing I could do.

He finally dropped the connection, grinning in a cold and terrifying manner. The mental intrusion had been more intimate than any physical encounter, and I hated the ease in which he could do so. He took a slow step towards me and crouched down so we were eye to eye.

"So, Murtagh, did you torture the poor girl?" I flinched away from him, and he laughed, the sound shaking me to the core. I glared at him coldly.

"My relationship with the ambassador is none of your concern." He frowned, and I didn't look at him. I kept my head held high defiantly.

"I think it is, boy. This is no longer about you and what you choose to do with your free time. This is about my victory over that hopeless little band of rebels in the south. You are one part of my victory, your brother is another part." He spat out the word brother.

He stood up once again, pacing. "Were this any other prisoner, I would let you do what you please. But, the time is too critical."

I frowned at him. "What are you saying?" He smirked triumphantly at me.

"More bonds, my boy." And with that, he began to speak in the ancient language, forcing me to swear to follow his commands with the prisoner to the letter. I spat out the words angrily, looking for loopholes as I spoke. He left nearly none. He finally stopped, and pulled me up by the collar.

"Now, tomorrow, I want you to go to the prisoner, and torture her until she becomes unconscious." He released my shirt and walked around me, stopping when he was behind me. "I want you to make her scream." He spat the words in my ear.

Fighting the anger and sadness that shot through me, I nodded. "As you wish, master."