Important note: Spring cleaning in process. I have decided that, once and for all, I need to re-edit this in order to proceed further with it. I've come to a block and realise that I can't go further without amending the things I'm not happy about in previous chapters. This could take time, but please, I implore of you, stick with me. If you could possibly re-review amendments, it would be appreciated, though they may often be minor.

I have also found more of a plot (it was lurking in my pen pot, waiting to be used) so finally my story can now have some structure!

Title: The Cruel Honour Of Love

Author: Last Generation Lintu, LGL, Luisa

Genre: Slash/Romance/Action/Death/Angst

Pairing: slash, Murtagh/Tornac

Warnings: SPOILERS! Though that won't come till much much later. Slash, obviously. Possibly mature themes, but I'm just covering my back here, and everything should be suitable for a T rating. . Some violence. Death and implied Suicide themes. If anything of the aforementioned nature upsets you, don't read

Takes place: Before Eragon

Disclaimer: Murtagh, Eragon (if I even bother to bring him into this… he bores me.) and other mentioned characters are the sole property of Christopher Paolini. The name Tornac is copyright to Christopher Paolini, but as he is described very very little in the books, his characterisation is pretty much all mine. The story is all mine. I am not making money for this. Thanks. X

[A/N: In case you were interested, for the purposes of this I have fiddled with ages a little, making Murtagh 23 or so years, and Tornac to be around 28.

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1. Prologue

Love. Ah, such a sweet and easy word to say. So much more bitter the reality.

"You have to realise Murtagh, that you cannot let such foolish emotions get in the way of your training!"

Honour - now there's a word that rolls so beautifully on the tongue, but once placed in the cruel vice of the world, becomes something fatally desired. People shroud the world in cruel wars just to gain some precious little honour.

"Murtagh, please, I can't be the reason for your fall… Murtagh, you're destroying me by doing this… Murtagh, are you blind? Can't you see?"

Now here's the question - which is more important? Love or honour? In a bitter world where we are denied the gift of both, which should we choose?

"Never say those words. Ever again, do you hear me? Never say those things, Murtagh, you absolute fool!"

I always thought that was such a simple question to answer. Love only leads to downfall. Honour brings you all that you could ever wish for. What need had I for something as pretty as love? What is love but a ridiculous trinket, carried in a hopeful heart for years before it is finally realised how very false, how very deceptive it truly is.

"There is a price to pay for your disloyalty, Murtagh. There is a price to pay for these foolish emotions…"

I always though that I would not be able to keep myself from love. I thought that pure mental discipline could keep me away from it, could keep me focussed on what really mattered.

"Tornac! Let him go… please.. Do what you will to me, but just let him go!"

Well I tell you now, that is a lie. A pure, painful lie.

"Murtagh, concentrate! Train… concentrate! That blood in your veins is there for a reason, now fight!"

I've learnt the truth. And I've learnt it in the hardest way imaginable.

"I'm coming further and further undone each and every day. Every day brings new challenges, new descisions… new pain…"

I went against everything that I had learnt. Disobeyed rules set so deep it is a sin in itself merely to unearth them. I have sealed my own destiny with three short words.

"I love you."

I have learnt pain, learnt love, learnt things in between. Been forced into decisions I was never meant to make. I have learnt betrayal.

"I can't just watch you die! Leave! Run you stupid boy! This fate wasn't meant for you!"

My soul has been tortured, trapped in a labyrinth of lies, love, and pain. I put myself through both physical and mental agony. And why?

"You have to learn that sometimes the right choice means letting go, Murtagh. Your father had to learn, and now so must you. I am telling you to let go of him!"

I'll tell you why. Because I felt so much for him. He was my world, the spark that finally ignited my soul in this cold world. I felt so much…

"Stop… Murtagh please stop… Murtagh… Murtagh you can't… Murtagh… stop, please, just stop this…"

And what of me now?

"If you get killed, do you think I could live with that? Do you think I could live with the guilt of knowing I am as good as your murderer?"

What do I still feel?

"Stop your wailing. You forced this upon yourself Murtagh. Now watch him die…"

Hate?

"What have you done? Murtagh, what have you done?"

Anger?

"Do you think I intended, even for one moment, for this to happen?"

Pain?

"Tornac, you can't… Tornac! NO!"

No.

"I did not want to hurt you Murtagh. I rather hoped that you would be like your father. But disobedience warrants pain."

I feel nothing.

"Breathe, damn you! Breathe! Don't… let…go… Breathe…"

I am Murtagh.

"Tornac? Tornac!"

And I feel nothing.

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