I own nothing, that privlige belongs to one christipher Polani.

Hate(hayt) v.- intense hostility or dislike aimed at a person or object. Ususally rooted in other emotions. Ex.- jealousy, anger, and love.

The war room in Belatona was considered to be the cities crowning achievement, with high walls, vaulted ceilings, and masonry work that was rumored to rival the best stone work of the dwarves. Many people considered the privilege to enter the war room an honor, a right reserved only for the rich and powerful. Murtagh, however, knew better. To be invited to the war room meant certain death, but to others' lives instead of yourself. The most recent governor was a proud, war crazed fool, and so blood thirsty some rumored that his real father had been a Kull. But he was also afraid of being shamed on the battle field, and with Varden taking control of Fienster, and with the elfin victory in Gil'lead, it probably seemed that he had no choice but to negotiate with them. The King had discovered his servant's plan, and he had sent Murtagh to threaten-er…to remind Governor Theriksson where his loyalties lied. That was what brought him to the war room and into a debate with the governor and the leader of the Varden herself, along with her Rider and his brother, Eragon.

Even after two hours of arguing and implying unspoken threats, Murtagh was still able to remain calm and look people in the eye with an expression that was the epitome of indifference, save for one person. Whenever his eyes fell on Nasuada he was unable to stop the rush of hatred that took control of his very being. Bile rose into his mouth and he forced himself to look at something else-anything but her.

The worst thing seemed to be that he wasn't able look away for long. Sooner or later his eyes would be drawn back to her. Murtagh drank in her features bitterly. She was beautiful, but he had noticed that when they had first met. Nasuada's dark hair was pulled back, leaving her eyes open to unnerve and startle her unsuspecting victims. He had always been partial to the color of her eyes; they were more brown then black, and they seemed to take in any light in the room, making everything dull except for her…

His fingers dug into the ebony table as disgust rose in his chest; he shouldn't think of her as anything, let alone beautiful. He had learned his lesson, it would be wise of him to stick to it. "You can't choose to fight the Varden now, you're far to out numbered," he heard Nasuada tell the governor in a charismatic voice. "If you ally yourself with us, we can make sure you have enough forces to protect your city from the king's wrath."

Murtagh was the first to speak. "Prove it," his voice cut through the silence like a knife, causing the others to stare at him in shock. "What?" He winced as her earthy, sweet voice reached his ears. Gods, how he wished he had never heard that voice in the first place; that sweet, wonderful voice…

"Prove that you out number the governor's troops, or else prove that you can spare soldiers to protect Belatona. I know you Nasuada, you would think of any lie if you thought it would protect your people." You lied to me, he added in his head. What makes these people so special that you would tell them the truth?

He noticed her skin darken a bit as Theriksson added, "That's true, how do you intend to prove yourself?" The young girl ground her teeth together before saying, "I don't need to prove anything. King Orrin is rallying troops as we speak, just incase this meeting doesn't go as we plan. Besides, the elves are on their way here. How long do you actually think you can fight them off? Without this treaty your city will fall, and it will be your fault that it happened."

The monstrous man shifted his weight from one foot to the other as Nasuada's eyes searched him. Murtagh interrupted them angrily.

"This is completely idiotic! Theriksson, you swore to the king that you would help him fight any of his enemies. I believe it was one of the conditions you agreed to when you took this position. You owe your loyalty to the king and the empire-"

"And what do you know of loyalty?" Nasuada's voice took on a bitter edge. "You're a traitor yourself, what gives an honor less rat like you the right to preach about something as sacred as loyalty or honor?" Flames erupted in his chest at her words, and his vision was covered in a red haze.

So this is what she thinks of me, Murtagh thought bitterly. Finally she tells the truth, not that bull-shit about being friends and wanting me to stay safe. But some how the truth made him feel worse, as if someone were continuously stabbing his heart with a red-heart poker. His rage was reflected in Nasuada's eyes, mixed with something he couldn't recognize; hurt maybe? Eragon looked at them in shock, seemingly unable to speak.

Ignoring the urge to leap across the table and shake Nasuada like a dying rat, and to scream at her just how many sacrifices he had made for the sake of loyalty; Murtagh turned toward the Belatonian Governor and said, "This meeting's over, I expect your answer by nightfall." His voice remained cool and indifferent, but the other occupants of the room could feel the anger flowing from his being.

As he stalked out the door he was vaguely aware of Eragon saying "Nasuada, don't be an idiot-" The chamber doors slammed shut, cutting of the rest of his brother's sentence. He wasn't more then twenty feet away when the doors swung open again, and he heard Nasuada call out behind him, "Murtagh, stop."

He turned on his heel quickly to glare at her. "Yes?" The girl bit her lip and said quietly. "I'm sorry." His eyes widened in surprise before returning to their usual cold appearance.

"I don't know why I said those things, it's just- I can't stand the thought of you being my enemy, not when I trusted you so much. I hate that Eragon may have to kill you and I hate that you-" Murtagh held up a hand to stop her.

"You told him to kill me." It was a statement, not a question. "And it is no fault of mine that we are enemies." The hurt on her face looked so real, and so did the tears that threatened to fall from her eyes. Murtagh suddenly wanted nothing more then to comfort her, to make those tears go away. And then the hatred returned.

Gods how he loathed her! He detested how kissable her lips looked, how sweet her voice sounded, how beautiful her eyes looked even on the verge of tears. He abhorred that she cared more for her people then she ever could for him. He hated that she hated him, and he hated that this apology was nothing more then another lie, a ruse to make him think her perfection could possibly care for a monster like him.

Mostly he hated that she could still make him love her, even after what she said in the war room, even though she would never be his.

He let his hatred ring through his voice as he continued. "I believe the next time we meet will only be on battle field. Good day Lady Nasuada." He spun on his heel and walked away, hardly caring that she was crying as he left.

Okay people,let me know what you thought. Did you like it or hate it?