Eragon lay on his side, curled up on the cold stone floor of his cell. He had long ago given up hope of reaching Saphira, he knew she lived but e was unable to reach her no matter how hard he tried. His magic, sword and clothes were gone yet he had no memory of ever parting them.
Strange he thought, I have not been here a day and I am already losing my mind.
Or had he lost it already? Eragon was no longer sure. What he was sure of was that Arya was dead and so was Roran. And Nausuada. And Katrina. And Horst. And Elaine. And the elven spell castors. And everyone else he had ever cared for. Well not everyone. Did Murtagh count? Perhaps, but even then the Murtagh he had loved was dead, crushed under galbatroix's tyranny like an ant under a soldiers boot. No not an ant, a perfect lion, that's what he was, a strong, brave, proud and now dead lion. As I will be. But then I was never a lion, i was more a house cat than a true lion. Was? Yes defiantly was. With the cold leaching into his battered body all Eragon had ever hoped to accomplish seemed to fade away. He was tired of feigning courage and pretending the dead didn't haunt his dreams. Tired of pretending he didn't hear screams every time he closed his eyes. Brothers, fathers uncles, sons, husbands all ripped from life by my blade. By my hands, gods by mythoughts. all dead, all gone. Will they welcome me when I descend into blessed darkness? Or will they tear me apart and never let me rest?
Eragon's shoulders shook with sobs until he at last slipped into his dreams, which were, as ever, no comfort.
Eragon jolted awake as the guard through the door of his cell open.
"Good morning Eragon" a middle aged man dressed in a silken robe crooned. The man walked in a circle around Eragon before stopping at his head.
Eragon attempted to rise but the strange man kicked him in the ribs. Hard.
"Please, don't get up." The man said an edge of sarcasm in his voice. "Ohh my, my you do look terrible. I would get you some cloths but your muscles really are to perfect to hide" the man knelt next to Eragon and ran a soft had down his spine before bringing it to rest on his buttocks. The man licked his lips. "Hmmm and you are a fine one aren't you?"
Eragon stiffened and tried desperately to move, wanting to escape the man and the implications of what he had just said. But in vain, his arms and legs felt like they were held down by lead weights.
"What did you do to me!" he shouted.
"Can't have you leaving just yet love, no not ever." The man mumered. He turned to the guard "bring him to my chambers; I want to play a bit with this one."
Eragon watched the exchange in absolute horror, I must not scream, I must not show weakness. I must—His train of thought was severed as the butt end of a spear slammed into his temple.
When he awoke his battered body was strapped to a cold metal table. The strange man from the prison cell was grinning like an absolute maniac as he stroked Eragon's chest, finding that he could once again move Eragon fought against his restrains.
"Uh, uh, uh. Mustn't do that love, you'll only hurt yourself" the man crooned "besides you'll never escape, the king himself spelled those pretty chains against your elven strength, precious one."
"Who are you?! And what do you want with me?!" Eragon shouted.
"What do I want with you?" he said dreamily "I want you honey, just you. The king though, he wants what you have in here" tapping Eragon's forehead "I want the rest of you. You may address me as master."
The thought of calling this disgusting man as he had called Oromis sickened Eragon. "Never" he hissed through gritted teeth.
"Oh, you will love; you will" with an abrupt change in voice he said "just like that elf bitch Arya! She screamed my name as she writhed under me" softening his voice once more he continued "as will you precious one, as will you."
The thought of this man touching Arya, his beautiful, dead Arya made Eragon retch. "I'll kill you! You disgusting son of a bitch!"
He laughed, as one might at a small peasant child who wanted to grow up to be a king. "That's where you're wrong, my lovely one, my mother was a whore, not a bitch. And as for killing, the only thing that's going to die in this room is your soul."
As Eragon watched the man from instrument to instrument with expression of childish glee on his face. He began to hum a merry tune under his breath as he sharpened a small knife; from a drawer in a large oak desk he pulled out a collection of hammers and chisels that rivalled Horst's which he cleaned to a sparkling shine.
He enjoys this thought Eragon enjoys setting up for the kill as much as making it. The man was clearly going to take his sweet time so Eragon attempted to let his mind wander past the prison walls and out into the divided world. Even after the Varden's crushing defeat at Dras Leona they would carry on the fight. Wouldn't they? Angela would lead them. Angela is dead an unnamed voice in his head taunted, no, she lives. She has to live he answered. In his heart he knew she was dead, no one could survive dragon fire not even one of her talents. Murtagh murderedher. And then captured Eragon and left him in this cell to rot. Aye, but you're not in your cell you're stretched out like deer carcase on an ice cold table waiting for a mad man to decide your fate. Pitiful excuse for a rider you are.
"Ready to start honey or are you going to play hard to get" the man's sickly sweet voice invaded his private thought and pulled him out of him mind and back onto the icy table. The man held a whip made of three red hot chains in his left hand and stroked Eragon's body with his right.
"Don't touch me" Eragon hissed.
Crack! The whip snapped and struck the bare skin of his chest with surprising force. It was all he could do not to scream. The whip snapped and bit at his skin until it seemed his whole body was afire. The mad man chuckled gently and the blows gradually came to a halt. The man's long nailed hand once again came to rest on Eragon's chest, but it did not remain there, instead making brief excursions down to lower areas.
"My sweet love are you sure you don't want to tell me a tinsy bit about the elves." The man whispered into Eragon's ear nibbling the point. "How like an elf you look, how perfect, how fair, how lovely you are my fey creature. I could stop having to hurt you honey, it could be so wonderful, just you and I no need for silly toys such as these."
"I'm not—I won't-- I'm not like you. I'll never submit" Eragon stuttered.
"Come now, my precious love, we know all of Murtagh's memories. If you could summon half of the vigour you did with him you would make an excellent lover." A wicked gleam entered the man's eyes as he whispered "And honey those are almost the exact words Murtagh spoke before he broke. Before he cried out my name in ecstasy. Before he became mine. But worry not my sweet love Murtagh was merely the appetizer, I have plenty of room left over for you."
He did not speak or interrogate Eragon for what seemed like an eternity; instead he turned to other means of persuasion. He used the whip again, but he seemed to tire of it and moved onto brands, the rack and eventually thumbs screws. Eragon couldn't help it; he screamed bloody murder when the vice clapped over his hand, he could feel the marrow being squeezed out of his bone and heard the sickening crunch as bone and flesh of his hand became a single lump of pure agony.
"Scream for me baby!" the man shouted.
"What do you want from me!?" Eragon screamed "please anything, just not again."
"Tell me how the scar on your back was healed" the man shouted, his voice bouncing around the walls of the stone chamber.
"Never, I'll never tell you anything of them! You will have to kill me!"
"I hope we don't my love, you are far too perfect to waste." He chuckled "and you know Murtagh only started screaming by the second day, you my precious love have started on the second hour. It took Murtagh a week to break, how long will it take you I wonder? Ahh, Murtagh he was such a wonder full challenge I almost thought he would go mad and we wouldn't get a thing from him. Mustn't go mad my lovely Eragon you are too important."
"What did you do to him?" Eragon asked, horrified.
"What didn't I do to him, love? It was glorious when he finally called me master, he was a strong one. But you my love, are a bit more fragile. You can last no more than three days i think. What a shame, the games we could play given the proper time. Ahh, well I'll soon have elves to console myself with, dwarves too."
Eragon continued to scream as the man moved onto the hammers, which he used to break all the bones in Eragon's left arm. Slowly numbness began to creep into Eragon's body, he barely felt the man twist his nipples and felt nothing as he began cutting small pieces of skin off his abdomen.
"Hmm, numb already sweet heart, I can remedy that" the man pulled a small vial from inside of his immaculate blue robe and forced the contents down Eragon's throat. "This was the elf bitches favourite, I hope like it honey."
Eragon began to feel the effects of the poison immediately; it felt as if someone had stuck a burning knife into his stomach and set his blood aflame. He could not suppress the groans and screams that forced themselves out of his tightly closed lips. He tried in vain to curl up into a ball but the bindings on his feet made this impossible. The man stroked his chest and upraised arms, humming to himself as he watched the poison take hold of his victim, when Eragon began foaming at the mouth he forced the antidote done his throat.
"Mustn't have you go mad my love, no my precious one, never."
But I'm already mad Eragon thought before he descended into darkness.