Terrible
Murtagh
I watch her dance from afar, knowing that I'll never be welcome in her company. Her rage is beautiful and terrible, her forgiveness impossible to gain. I have strove harder, reached further, even gaining the dwarves forgiveness after I had slain their king, lying to myself, pretending it wasn't all for her. I wish she knew that I would pull down Farthen Dûr for her, stone by stone. I wish I could speak to her, that I wasn't a coward as well as a traitor.
Arya
I stand apart from the rest, watching Eragon and Murtagh get tangled in their macabre dance, swords clanging, eyes burning with intensity. They are so similar, and yet so different, the white king and the black knight. Eragon is an honorable man, and I love him for it, yet Murtagh…he lives by his own peculiar code, one that was maddening in its complexity, and one that drew me toward him. I have done many terrible things in my long life, things I fear Eragon would recoil from if he knew. He loves me, but he does not know me. Murtagh…he is not perfect, the atrocities he has committed should be enough to end my fascination, yet I cannot help but feel that he would be able to accept my faults, would be able to understand and embrace my darkness, which is not so very different than his own.
*****
"I challenge you, Murtagh Selenasson," I announce when they are finished, "as soon as you regain your strength."
"I accept," he replies in a low voice, an unfathomable expression in his dark blue eyes. Half an hour later, we circle each other, accessing each other's weaknesses. We are alone for the moment; almost everyone else is still eating. I should be taking advantage of an opening on his left side, but I am distracted by the way he bites his lip as he concentrates, by memories of his fleeting, beautiful smile. He suddenly attacks with a well-aimed thrust, which I parry. Thanks to Galbatorix's experiments, he's nearly as strong as I am, and it takes all my skill to remain standing. I dance around him at a punishing speed, attacking almost randomly at high speed. Finally he holds up his sword in surrender. I am…confused. He's not even that out of breath.
"I… I cannot fight you, Arya," he says, not meeting my eyes.
"Why not?" He just shakes his head.
"You will by my undoing, elf," he says.
"I am already quite undone, " I whisper. He's already walking away, and I'm suddenly furious, at him and at myself. Why are we both so stupid, why can't we say a few simple words when we're inches apart?
Murtagh
I walk away from her slowly, cursing my cowardice. I don't get very far; when something slams into me from behind, almost knocking me over, and locks it's arms around me in a vice-like grip. It's…Arya?
I can feel her heart beating against me, and I tilt my head back to stare at the stars above us, letting out a shaky breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. She releases her hold a moment later and I can sense her embarrassment. I turn around to face her, and stared down at her, her face hidden behind her dark curls. I hadn't realized how much taller I'd gotten. She looked up when I wrapped my arms around her, and rested her head against my collarbone. We breathe together beneath the darkening sky, at peace for once.
The End.
A/N This isn't the sort of thing I normally write, but for some reason I can really see these two together. Please review!