Disclaimer – I own nothing but the plot and N'adinea. And anything or anyone else you don't recognise from the books. The world of Alagaesia and all its characters belong to Mr Christopher Paolini. So please don't sue me. It's not worth it.
Author's Note – My first Eragon fic. I've only just discovered Eragon, and in a space of about three weeks I've read both Eragon and Eldest, and watched the film. And this fic was influenced by both. It's kind of my version of the third book but centred on events in Galbatorix's palace. Stupidly I had no idea that so many people would have used this kind of storyline but I do hope you will continue to read Lineage nonetheless. I know sometimes my grammar and punctuation are awful but hang in there! I am getting better!
Summary – How long can you keep a secret? How long can you rule a world? And how long can you fight, when you don't really want to at all?
Lineage
Chapter One – Of Reading And Riders
Seventeen years ago…
The earth shook.
There was a deafening crash and the sound of shattering glass, followed by cries of alarm. Explosions rocked the ground again. More screaming, this time words of the ancient language ring out into the night, frantic, afraid. A thud as someone falls, a cracking of bone and a strangled cry. Splintering wood accompanied by a guttural roar. Frenzied chaos and thundering feet. More shouts, a flash of light, and then sudden and terrifying silence.
A cold, calm voice speaks and then nothing. Not even a whisper of the wind.
Until the high-pitched wail of a child begins. And then floorboards groan and the ominous tread of heavy boots accompany the cries.
And then silence.
Terrifying silence.
- - - -
Galbatorix's eyes flew open and he drew in a rasping breath, as if he'd been starved of oxygen. He withdrew his hand from her pale flesh like it burnt red hot; staring at the fading shimmer of the Gedwey Ignasia. His gaze fell to her for a moment, his lip half-curling in disgust. His fists balled and he turned on his heel and strode from the room, disgusted at her and disgusted at himself for not being able to commit fully to that feeling.
"Wake her" he snapped at a cowering slave as he let the door slam behind him, passing the terrified girl in a swirl of billowing black cloak. He stormed through the labyrinth of passages to his study and threw the door open, slamming it shut angrily.
"It angers you does it not?"
"What angers me?" he retorted, turning to face the enormous black dragon that lounged in the centre of the cavernous room.
"That you cannot despise her. That you have never quite been able to."
"She will become expendable soon. Once I can have any elf, any human, or any half-breedI want she will matter not."
"You speak it but you do not believe it. You harbour affection for her. It is the reason you kept her."
"No. I kept her because humans were not enough. If you recall, they died. Even if I didn't take all of them."
Shruikan fixed one eye on him. "You kept her because even as a child she did not fear you."
- - - -
N'adinea always spent her mornings in the library. She spent many of her afternoons there to, when she was too tired to go outside, or to weak for archery practice, which was becoming more and more often these days.
She sighed as she wandered the familiar path through the aisles of the dark, draughty room, passing history as she did. War after war, king after king were all recorded in these texts and she'd read so many of them she almost felt as if she'd been present. Past the Fall of The Riders, past the history of Eragon the First, past the Great War between Dragons and Elves, and then turn left, to a small, dusty alcove at the back of the cavernous room. One bookcase of poetry, of heroic tales and heart-wrenching stories. One bookcase in the whole library.
N'adinea had read every single text at least twice. She'd once asked her Father if she could have more poetry, more stories, something that wasn't a bloody account of a fist fight between two Urgals, but he had replied that she should live in the real Alagaesia, and not fill her mind with stupid tales spun by traitors.
She picked up one scroll, an Elven tale about love that she was sure her Father did not know resided in his library. She was always drawn to this tale, about the love between a human and an elf. She had no world of her own, except this palace and this library, and she liked to read about what was outside it. Even if she never got the chance to see it.
She froze when she heard the footsteps, a quick but heavy tread. They stopped for a moment, and then continued again where the owner must have turned down an aisle. N'adinea let out the breath she was holding in a quiet whoosh of air and relaxed her shoulders. Quietly she moved to the end of the bookcase hiding her alcove and peered round into the main aisle.
Nothing.
She leant back against the bookcase, apprehension and excitement building in her stomach. Not once, in the many hours she had spent wandering the library, had she ever come across another person in here. It had become her own little world and she was curious as to who had invaded it. Should she introduce herself to them? Her Father never spoke of anyone else in the palace and N'adinea was kept in near solitude, only speaking to him and her servant. Father said it was for her heath, people would only tire her more.
The footsteps stopped and N'adinea jumped as a thud suddenly broke the quiet, echoing through the room as a text hit the floor. A rough, male voice uttered a curse and then the footsteps started again, moving toward the library entrance. N'adinea peered around the bookcase again, watching the black-clad figure as he strode out of the library. He wasn't a soldier, they weren't allowed anywhere near the private quarters of the palace, where the library was. Father said they were coarse and unruly and he would have them nowhere near her. So who was he, to be able to wander freely through her library?
She slowly traced his steps toward the entrance, and then quickened her pace halfway down. Perhaps she should follow him. But she slowed again. That would anger her Father, and she couldn't just stalk this stranger. It would dishonour her.
She dropped her scroll on one of the reading tables set out along the centre of the main aisle and curtsied deeply to a gilded chair. Perhaps he was a noble's son on a visit to the palace and Father would introduce them.
"Lady N'adinea. I am honoured to meet you"
She shook her head.
"Lady N'adinea, daughter to the King…no…Lady N'adinea, daughter of King Galbatorix. I am honoured to meet you…"
She curtsied again this time bowing her head.
"I am honoured…daughter to King Galbatorix's…daughter of King Galbatorix…"
Pulling out the chair she bowed her head again and then sat on it gracefully, arranging her skirts so they billowed around her and nodding politely to the imaginary dinner guest next to her.
"Lady N'adinea?"
N'adinea jumped and shot to her feet, hands clutched to her chest.
"Zarah you startled me" she said, straightening the front of her gown to cover her embarrassment, "What is it?"
"I beg your forgiveness but your Father requests your presence at lunch" the girl replied, head bowed.
"Of course" N'adinea picked up the scroll and handed it to the girl as she passed her.
"Take this to my rooms."
"As you wish Lady N'adinea."
- - - -
N'adinea picked at the food before her, pushing it round her plate as she tried to determine the best way to approach the subject of the man in the library. She wasn't sure whether to be subtle in her questioning, or whether to just jump right in and ask who he was. She also had to consider that whatever she said may actually get him into trouble with her Father.
"Something amiss with your meal, N'adinea?"
"No Father. I was just…just wondering…does anyone else reside at the palace? Except the servants of course. Perhaps…"
"Perhaps who?" he prompted, not looking up from his meal.
"I don't know. Perhaps…a noble's son or a Lord…"
He looked up sharply this time. "What makes you think people beside us reside here?"
"N-nothing…I just wondered, is all."
She looked away from his piercing gaze, uncomfortable as she always was under his scrutiny.
"Something must have put it into your head. Have the servants tongues been loose again?"
N'adinea jumped as he snapped a bone and let the pieces fall one by one onto his plate.
"No…" she said quietly, "I just thought the palace is so vast…"
"In the whole seventeen years you have lived in this vast palace that thought just…popped into your head today. Is that what I'm to understand?"
"Yes" it was barely a whisper.
"I see," he leant forward, propping his elbows on the table and lacing his fingers together slowly, "Perhaps you would like to tell me why you really asked that question, N'adinea"
"I…I saw someone in the library."
"Someone?"
"A bo-no a man" she corrected herself, shifting in her seat.
"When was this?" he asked sharply.
"This morning. Just before Zarah fetched me."
Galbatorix's face hardened and he was silent, staring into the distance as he always did when he conversed with Shruikan, his dragon. N'adinea watched his features to see if they betrayed anything of the silent conversation. But they did not.
"It does not matter" he said finally, turning back to his meal.
N'adinea watched him for a moment, then taking a deep breath she said, "Father, who is he?"
Galbatorix did not answer, merely took a sip from his goblet and set it back down with a dull chink.
She took another breath. "Father I've been thinking. I'd enjoy the company of another. Someone my own age perhaps? Maybe I could meet with some of the noble's children? If you'd allow it of course" she added, bowing her head, "It's just…just I have never spoken to anyone except the servants and you. And I would like too."
"My company is not good enough for you?" he shot down the beginnings of her protest with a look, "Have I not told you, there are people who would use you against me. And we have to take your illness into consideration. You tire easily N'adinea and company will only make it worse."
He stopped and stared into the distance again.
"Perhaps…" he muttered, "I suppose it is of little consequence…"
He turned his gaze on her and sat back in his chair.
"I will think on it. Although I do not think it is in your best interests to associate with other nobles, Shruikan and I may have another solution."
"Thank you Father" she replied, trying to disguise her disappointment. She should have known he would only grant her wish if it was agreeable to him.
"He is only protecting you" a little voice in her head whispered.
Still it was disappointing. She looked up and dared one last question.
"Who was the man in the library Father?"
"Patience daughter. You may yet find out."
- - - -
N'adinea shivered and tugged the blankets closer. This alcove in her rooms was her favourite place to read. She would wrap herself in furs and curl up on the window seat, leaning her elbows on the sill and alternating her reading with staring out at the distant hills. And she sat there now, the scroll in her hand forgotten. It had been a fortnight since the library and she still could not get him out of her head. Who he was, why she had never seen him before, why he was in the palace? The stories she weaved about him in her own mind became more and more elaborate as the days passed. One day he was a rich noble, the next he was an orphan her Father had taken in, the next he was a brave warrior bestowed with the greatest honour. As it was custom that she ate with her Father every evening, every evening she questioned him on the man. And every evening her Father's reply was the same, "Patience daughter."
She was beginning to tire of patience. She was beginning to tire of her own ignorance. She knew nothing. She was sheltered, kept hidden from everyone and everything because of an illness with no name. And no cure.
And because her Father was King. If the wrong people knew of her existence it would be so easy for them to use her against him. But then he also said that it was just a small uprising of rebels that opposed him, nothing to worry about, and Surda. So why keep her hidden?
She did not understand it. Her doubts were becoming stronger. But she trusted him. He was her Father.
She heard the knock next door, and Zarah answering but she did not move. The door to this chamber opened with a creak.
"Your Father, Lady N'adinea."
He stepped into the room and Zarah shut the door behind him.
"Father," she greeted him, turning from the window.
"The servant girl says you were unwell this morning."
"I am recovered now."
"Good. I have something important planned for this evening. It would disappoint me greatly if you were unwell. I have left a gift in your dressing room. You will wear it tonight. I will also send you another…servant to help with your preparations."
N'adinea smiled, excitement building in her stomach. "Thank you Father. What…what is the occasion?"
His expression gave nothing away as he turned back to the door. "You will find out this evening. Do not be late."
She waited until she heard the second slam of a door before she jumped up and ran to her dressing room. Draped across the ornate chaise lounge was the most exquisite gown she had ever seen.
"It's beautiful…" she breathed, running her fingers over the soft, blood red material, "Beautiful."
She picked it up and held it against herself, watching the skirts billow out in the mirrors that covered one wall of the room as she giddily whirled around. A dress this exquisite could only mean that her wish was being granted. She would finally be introduced to the court! She would be able to talk to the nobles, be able to dance with them. Finally she might have friends, companions.
"Zarah we must begin preparing. I want to look perfect this evening," she commanded, laying the dress back down, "If I am to be introduced to the court I must be flawless, and make a flawless impression. I cannot dishonour my Father."
"Of course my Lady." The dark-skinned girl bowed her head. "You will not."
- - - -
"Ask yourself why you are bending to her wishes."
"I am not. I am merely…amusing myself."
"And if they begin to care for one another?"
"Then it will strengthen his obedience to me."
"He cannot disobey you at all. After all, we know his true name."
"He has found ways around his oaths before. If there is someone here he cares for, he will not want to endanger them."
"You are overlooking her usefulness in court Galbatorix. Her lineage will make her…prized among the nobles. Why waste her on simple amusement?"
"If I want to use her as a bargaining tool with members of the court I will. Regardless. For now I will use her for my own amusement."
"Do you forget she is still not completely under our power? We still have to discover her true name."
"That is of little consequence. She poses no threat."
"As you wish."
- - - -
Outside the banquet hall N'adinea smoothed down her dress again and then nervously played with the brown curls that tumbled over her shoulders. Finally with an intake of breath she squared her shoulders and walked through the entranceway, head held high. Her walked slowed as she got further into the room, until she came to a dead stop in front of the table.
The room was empty.
Disappointment welled heavily in her stomach and she felt frustrated tears prick at her eyelids. There was a chink of metal behind her and she spun round to face her Father, surveying her from the darkest corner of the hall.
"Ah N'adinea your ea-"
"There's no one here," she interrupted, unable to hide her disappointment, "I thought…"
"You thought what, N'adinea? And if you had inspected the table more carefully, you would find it is set for three."
"Oh…" she peered over her shoulder, taking in the extra place set.
"Oh" he repeated, mimicking her. He walked towards the table, stopping when he was level with her. Without looking at her he murmured, deathly quiet, "Do not ever speak to me in that manner again, daughter."
"I'm sorry." She lowered her gaze, "Forgive me."
"Ah Murtagh!" he called out suddenly, his demeanour changing in a heartbeat, "I have someone I'd like you to meet."
N'adinea spun to face the opposite end of the hall, watching as a young, dark-haired man strode towards them. He stopped at the side of the table, giving her Father a short bow. N'adinea just stared at him, mouth slightly open, all thoughts of proper conduct flown from her mind.
"King Galbatorix." He seemed unperturbed at her presence. Or at least he hid it well.
"Murtagh this is Lady N'adinea. My daughter."
N'adinea shut her mouth sharply and lowered her gaze, but she didn't miss the small flicker of surprise that crossed his face. He hid it quickly though and repeating the bow he had shown her Father said, "It is an honour to meet the King's daughter, Lady N'adinea."
An involuntary smile crossed her features and she curtsied, inclining her head toward him.
"Daughter this is Murtagh, son of Morzan-my most trusted follower-and part of our new generation of Riders."
"You're a Rider?" she exclaimed before she could stop herself. She looked sideways at her Father but he did not seem angered by her conduct. Murtagh merely nodded in answer and an awkward silence fell. Galbatorix seemed not to notice however as he took his seat at the head of the table.
"Sit."
So they both sat in the places laid out for them, facing across the table. Servants began to bring forward dishes, laying them out before them or serving food from others, but still no one spoke. N'adinea tried to steal secret glances at the Rider but every time she did he would look up and catch her, and she would have to quickly avert her gaze. It was as if he could tell exactly when her eyes were on him. And then as one course was being cleared she looked up to catch him studying her. Their eyes met, but he broke the contact quickly, staring back down at his plate.
N'adinea was so engrossed in her own thoughts she didn't hear her Father the first time he called her.
"N'adinea…N'adinea!" he barked. She jumped and shook her head.
"Sorry Father," she said apologetically. He turned his gaze back to Murtagh.
"N'adinea's illness makes it hard for me to introduce her into the court. She's vulnerable. If she were to suffer an attack at an in-opportune moment…and also if those we didn't want to found out about her…which is why I trust you Murtagh. I am confident N'adinea will be safe in your company."
Murtagh bowed his head. "You think highly of me."
N'adinea blushed slightly but said nothing. She wasn't sure if this was worse than being alone. Her Father forcing people to be friends with her.
"Perhaps you two would like to speak alone? I have important matters to attend to, as Shruikan keeps reminding me, and the meal is over," he stood, and Murtagh followed suit, "Goodnight Murtagh, N'adinea."
Murtagh sat back down as her Father left and they both studiously avoided the other's gaze. Finally, after a silence that stretched into an uncomfortable tension N'adinea blurted out, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for him to just thrust us together."
"What?" he replied shortly, shifting in his seat.
"I mean…well when I asked I thought he would…I didn't think he'd just…you are the man from the library aren't you? And when I wanted to know who…" she trailed off, going slightly pink.
Murtagh started at her in confusion.
"I'm not making much sense am I?" She gave him a wry smile. He smiled back at her.
"No you're not Lady N'adinea."
They both laughed and N'adinea let her face drop into her hands before looking back up at him.
"Well a few weeks ago I saw you in the library. At least I presume it was you. Anyway I asked my Father who you were-because I'd never seen anyone else in the palace-"
"I've been here for month's" he interjected.
"Well I'd never seen you and Father never spoke of you. He wouldn't tell me who you were…so you live here?" she said suddenly, surprise evident in her tone. He nodded.
"Then how come I didn't-"
"I didn't know you existed either until a few hours ago."
"How can we have been living in the same palace and not have seen each other? It's impossible."
"Your Father can make whatever he wishes happen. And anyway, apparently we did see each other. Well you saw me at least. I'll have to be more careful next time I visit the library."
"You will. Next time I might be dangerous."