It was hopeless. He wondered why he ever thought it could work. He knew that eventually his past, his history, his former life would interfere. He just didn't think it would be so soon.

Murtagh's head fell into his hands, his elbows propped on his knees. He had been so stupid to think that he could be happy. His whole life had been full of misery; why should that change? He didn't even really know how to be happy. Not like he did. He clenched his hands in his hair. Don't think about him, he scolded himself. The memories were too painful. Even just thinking the name hurt too much. Eragon.

How had things gone so wrong? If he was honest with himself, Murtagh knew it was his fault. He had volunteered to go search the tunnels for Urgals that day in his attempt to prove that he was not like his father. Eragon had asked him not to go, but Murtagh wouldn't listen. He knew they couldn't be happy together if the Varden did not accept him; a relationship between two males was already chancy enough. His plan had failed miserably. Now he would never be happy.

As much as it hurt, he couldn't stop himself from thinking about him. His thoughts turned to the many nights they spent together before arriving at Farthen Dûr. That first kiss in the dim light of the fire. So soft, so sweet. He didn't want it to end. And in the moment, it seemed like it wouldn't. How he thirsted for that feeling again! His soft lips pressed against Murtagh's, so soft despite the weeks and months outdoors. His touch, so warm and gentle and more real than anything Murtagh had ever felt before...

His throat felt tight and he could feel the tears coming. Before Eragon, he rarely ever cried. Not when his mother died, not when his father beat him, not even when Morzan threw Zar'roc at him and sliced his back open. He had learned to hide his emotions at a very early age. There was only one person to ever break through that. Eragon. The tears spilled over and a choked sob escaped from him. He allowed himself to fall sideways so that he was laying on the floor and curled himself into a tight ball as his emotions got the better of him.

That night, for the first time, Murtagh cried himself to sleep.

Weeks went by and Murtagh remained locked, not only in his room, but in his mind as well. His depression grew steadily worse as his memories of Eragon constantly replayed in his head. Trying not to think about him only made it worse. The memories would creep up on him even when he tried to focus on things completely unrelated to his former companion. At one point he contemplated suicide, but could not give up on the small part of him that hoped to be reunited with Eragon one day. And so the pain continued.

Murtagh's solitude confused him. The only punishment he received for running away from Urû'baen was being confined to his chamber. He had expected some form of physical punishment or torture. Perhaps Galbatorix somehow knew that the pain of being away from the only person that meant something to him would be enough. Murtagh had tried to hide his feelings for the young Rider when his mind had been examined, but maybe he hadn't done it well enough. Whatever the reason was, he was glad to be left alone in his misery.

Murtagh jerked awake, disoriented. He had been in the middle of an extremely vivid dream about Eragon when the sound of his door opening had woken him.

He slowly sat up, afraid of who would walk in. Would it be the Twins, trying to stab into his mind for information? Or would it be Galbatorix, finally deciding to punish him? The door slowly opened.

The darkness of Murtagh's room made it impossible for him to see more than the silhouette of the figure standing in his doorway. He knew it wasn't the Twins because there was only one person there, but he couldn't be sure that it wasn't the king. The figure took a few steps forward, peering into the darkness as if looking for something. Or someone.

Murtagh stayed as still as he could, not wanting to draw attention to himself. The shadowy form continued its slow progress across the room. He suddenly sensed eyes on him and knew that he had been found. He still did not move, waiting to see what his intruder would do.

"Murtagh?" a voice called softly into the darkness. A voice that Murtagh would know anywhere. A voice that whispered to him in his dreams. A voice he had been dying to hear for real for weeks.

"Eragon?" he whispered back.

"Murtagh." Eragon stopped his advancement at the foot of the large bed. Murtagh could just barely see him peering forward, trying to get a better look at the elder in the darkness. "This is stupid. Brisingr raudhr. "

A small light popped into existence, hovering just above Eragon. The red glow had a softening effect on his face. Murtagh looked at him carefully. The mess of brown hair, the lightly tanned skin, the chocolate brown eyes, it was all the same. In the weeks since he had last seen his love, he had been afraid that he would change. But here he was, standing in front of Murtagh looking exactly as he had that day in Farthen Dûr.

Eragon walked slowly around the bed to the side where Murtagh sat. Their eyes never left each other in the dim light. Murtagh knew that he must be a mess, but he didn't care. He was never as handsome as Eragon anyways. Before the younger could reach him his body unfroze. He found himself saying, "What are you doing here? You shouldn't be here! What if you get caught?"

Eragon froze. "What if I don't care?" he whispered harshly.

"You should. If you're caught, who will save Alagaësia from Galbatorix? And what about Saphira? If you're caught, she will be too."

"I know the risks. Saphira knows the risks."

"Leave." The word came out as a low growl.

"No."

Murtagh was shocked. In all their time together, Eragon had never gone against him, never stood up to him. He was always submissive and did what Murtagh said. He glared at the young Rider. "Why not?"

"Because of this." Next thing he knew, Murtagh was pressed flat against the bed, Eragon on top of him, their lips moving together as if they have never been apart. It was better than his dreams, better than his memories. In that instant, Murtagh forgot every reason why he tried to make his love leave. All that mattered was that moment and what he was feeling. And in that moment, he knew that he would do whatever Eragon asked of him because he could never be apart from him again.