A/N: Don't hate me for putting off Conflicted for a month or so—I've been caught up in this. It's the Murtagh/OC one I mentioned and I've got a few chapters of it going. I'm not sure where I'll go with it quite yet (so don't be surprised if it goes on hiatus after a few more chapters) but I just wanted to get the beginning out and see what you guys thought of it. Tell me what you think, because if it goes over well I'll put effort to finishing it. It may go slower than Conflicted, though, because I want to focus on bringing that one to a close first. Review, please, and thanks!

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Slaves of Darkness

Chapter 1

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I followed the sweeping black cloak down the hall, elongating my strides to match the king's. He had not explained why he had been so fidgety for the past few days, and I hadn't asked. I knew only what he saw fit to tell me and what I could glean from his other servants, which wasn't much at all—usually I was the best-informed of them all now that I had a place at the king's side.

He was excited, I could tell. His eyes had flashed and he had sprung up off his chair and went all but charging out into the hall, me scrambling to follow. It was a nice change from the almost-unbearable mood he had been in ever since Durza had been defeated. He was actually looking forward to something again.

We were heading toward the secret side entrance to the palace. It must be some new, important arrival—one of his spies perhaps. We stopped before the doors, my steps coming to a stop beside his tall figure, and waited, hearing sounds behind them. Whoever it was was preparing themselves for appearance before the King, shedding traveling gear, etc.

The doors opened and I stared. In came the two identical round, bald men, looking ragged and harried, carrying between them an unconscious young man with mussed dark locks and handsome, chiseled features, wearing a rough cloak over a bare chest and leather pants. I gazed, my eyes widening, as I recognized the face…the set of the jaw, the dark, expressive eyebrows…

Murtagh.

I stepped aside wordlessly to let them pass.

"The prepared room," Galbatorix commanded. "Do not wake him." The twins nodded in unison and passed him, supporting the unconscious Murtagh down the hallway and around a corner out of sight.

The king's eyes traveled to my face, and I wiped my features clear of expression. Inside, however, I was reeling. Murtagh! The young son of Morzan I though I would never see again. The boy I had grown up with in the palace and who had fled the king's clutches when he was eighteen, a year older than myself at the time. How he had changed! He had grown more broad, yet still as lean as always. His countenance was darker—almost haunted-looking even in sleep.

Feelings stirred in my heart, almost taking my breath away as it had been years since I had allowed myself to feel strong emotions. I had cared about him all those years ago, hadn't I? And I had been devastated when he had slipped away the night he was ordered by Galbatorix to decimate the village of Cantos—known to harbor rebels—with a battalion of soldiers. He had narrowly escaped; his friend and teacher Tornac had been killed trying to leave with him. What had his life been like? How had he been found? Questions burned in my mind, but I kept my face from betraying my intense interest.

My eyes flickered up to Galbatorix's and I found his dark eyes calculating my face, darting back and forth between my eyes as if trying to read them.

"You recognize him, I am sure," he said coolly.

"Yes," I replied. "Murtagh, Morzon's son, is it not?"

"It is." He began walking, slow this time, and I walked beside him. "You two were friends as children as I recall."

"We were."

He looked at me again, then said no more until we were back in his room and the door was shut. He clasped his hands behind his back and looked at me levelly. I knew his subtle body language—he was about to tell me something he didn't want to divulge in the halls in case stray ears were listening. I sat slowly on the end of his enormous bed, watching his face.

"Apparently, when Murtagh heard news of a new Dragon Rider, he followed the trail of the Ra'zac in hopes of meeting up with him. I'm not sure how he knew about their involvement or why he wanted to meet the new Rider. However, he met up with them at Dras-Leona and rescued them from an ambush, though Brom was wounded and died shortly after."

Galbatorix began walking slowly back and forth in front of me, continuing, "He helped Rider Eragon and his dragon rescue the Elvin Princess Arya from Durza's imprisonment" —his mouth formed a displeased line— "and in then in the aftermath of the battle in Varden headquarters, the Twins targeted Murtagh. In the confusion of stray Urgal attacks and Ajihad's death, they took control of a band of Urgals, captured Murtagh, and brought him out and away from the Varden, scattering his bloody clothes and magically shielding all of them from scrying, so that the Varden would think both Twins and Murtagh were dead."

The king stopped walking, turned toward me, and smiled—a smile that would've chilled my blood had I not been so used to it. "I have wanted him back for a while now. And I have hopes. If a dragon has hatched for one son of Morzan, the one so much less deserving of it, why wouldn't another hatch for his eldest?"

I blinked, startled. "Eragon is Morzan's second son?"

Galbatorix smiled. "Indeed. The Twins found that interesting connection while probing the boy's mind. Selena must have been pregnant when she left, and she put her second son in the care of her brother."

"Murtagh and Eragon are brothers," I breathed. "Do they know?"

"No. Eragon has no way of finding out, and I shall divulge to Murtagh when I please. You are not to speak of this to anyone but me, Reyna."

I nodded, murmuring the oath in the Ancient Language that bound me to secrecy. It was so routine these days I could say the words in my sleep.

The king smiled briefly and sat beside me. His eyes were lighter than they had been in many weeks. I looked fearlessly into them; the icy depth of desperate, violent desires was familiar. His rough, cold hand lifted to the side of my head and stroked down my hair, resting on the side of my face so his thumb could brush my cheek.

"I've been contemplating how to put you to use in respect to my new asset," he said. "If he doesn't remember you, it won't matter, but if he does… I wonder if it's best to isolate him or let you get close to him and in so doing help him to trust me. You make a skillful spy as you've shown in the past, but if I control him completely as I plan to, that would be unnecessary. Still, whatever guard he would still have around me would be down with you if he were to trust and befriend you…" He continued to mull the issue softly aloud, then abruptly changed subjects. "I need a dragon, Reyna."

"I know," I replied softly. He looked at me, let out a breath, and looked away.

"A dragon will hatch for him, my Lord," I said. "Any son of Morzan is destined to be a Rider."

"We will see," he answered, then turned toward the door and walked out, leaving it open. I blinked, not expecting him to invite me to follow, and jumped up as his deep voice said from the hall, "Come, Reyna."

I quickly crossed to the door and shut it behind me, striding hastily to catch up to the king. He glanced sideways at me with a hint of amusement in his eyes. I smiled apologetically and a corner of his mouth cracked in a grin.

"You do like making me jump around," I said, looking ahead. He laughed briefly in his harsh way.

"Yes. You're quite quick at it. I suppose I've trained you well. Either that or my displeasure terrifies you."

"The latter, I imagine," I replied, and he chuckled. We walked down the hallways and came to a stop before a door. Galbatorix placed his hand on the lock said some words in the Ancient Language quickly under his breath. There was a loud click and he pushed the door open to reveal another hall with a dead end. When I was inside, he closed the door and said more words to lock it again. He then walked down the hall, turning to a door and opening it without any magic.

Inside the Twins were standing beside a bed on which Murtagh lay, still unconscious. They straightened when we walked in, and bowed low before the king.

"Here he is, sire," one said, his voice oily with a strange mix of pride and respect.

Galbatorix nodded, walking up to Murtagh's bedside. I remained where I was, and when the king's back was turned, the Twins gave me a cruel, calculating look. I suddenly felt a horrid tearing in my mind as if someone were forcing their way through.

I gasped and clutched at my temples, when suddenly the force receded, and I heard the king's ringing voice: "She is not under your command! Never search those at my side! Send some servants to us! OUT!"

I opened my eyes and the Twins were gone. Galbatorix was glaring at me. I swallowed and shrunk from his anger, then his face calmed, realizing the expression he had. I didn't lower my hands from my temples as I had a painful headache, and I was shaking.

"Straighten yourself, Reyna," he growled. "It's done with. Do not show me weakness."

"I apologize, Your Majesty," I said, making my voice calm, and straightening, forcing my muscles to stop quaking. He turned away to look back down at Murtagh. My eyes followed his gaze as the pain in my head began to fade.

There was a knock at the door.

"Enter," Galbatorix commanded, and three servants came inside. He turned to them. "I want this man bathed, clothed, and returned here. Reyna, you will oversee this. When it's done, you and the servants will knock on the hall door and a man will let you out and seal it again. Then find me."

He then swept out of the room. He servants looked at me. One of them I recognized, and inclined my head.

"Hello, Daniel."

Daniel nodded and the three grouped around Murtagh's bed.

"Do we wake him?" Daniel asked, looking at me.

"He won't wake," I replied. "Just pick him up."

A man pushed Murtagh up into a slouched sitting position and took hold of him under the arms, and another took his legs, and Daniel opened the door for them as they carried him out, me following. There was only one other door along the hall, and Daniel opened it and lit the candles on the walls to light the room. It was a spacious bathroom, and Murtagh was carried inside and set down beside the bath.

One servant began running water, while Daniel and the other stripped Murtagh of clothes. I averted my eyes accordingly, but of course I still saw him. I had seen many men naked before as I had been a concubine in the palace when I had come of age, and had also seen all of this particular young man a few times years back. But I had…cared about Murtagh. We had been friends and confidents as children and lovers as teenagers. Murtagh had been first and last in my heart, and that made me look at him on another level then any other. Heat bloomed low in my stomach and I fought hard not to stare.

He was, well, bigger than the last time I had seen him. He had matured physically from the gangly teenager I had known. He was exceptionally muscular, and had more of a tan than at eighteen, but less than I would've expected of someone out in the world, though I supposed it was only natural he had inherited his father's pallid skin.

I was dismayed to see all the cuts and bruises on his body—old marks from the battle and a new crusted slit across his shoulder that possibly the Twins had inflicted. He looked terribly in need of care and a soft bed.

They picked him up and lowered him into the bath. Two men soaped up cloths and rubbed him down, gently cleaning his cuts and sores, while Daniel held his head above the water.

"Reyna," he said, "could you hold his head while I wash his hair?"

I nodded, glad to be of use instead of just watching. The other two men glanced at Daniel and I in surprise.

"Careful not to get your dress wet, though. It looks nice," he said. "I mean expensive, not nice on you. I mean, it looks nice on you, but—"

I laughed, kneeling. "I understand, Daniel." I gently took Murtagh's head in my hands as Daniel, who was now blushing, moved his hands away. He lathered them with soap and ran them through Murtagh's wet, shaggy hair.

I rubbed my thumb against Murtagh's warm, slightly-bristly cheek. He needed a shave as well. I moved my thumb down to the base of his neck where it met a familiar scar. I rubbed the rough, scared skin gently, remembering.

When Daniel was done washing, he took a wet towel and rinsed Murtagh's hair, and then one of the men washed his face. They carefully lifted his dripping body out, and I felt the hook in my lower abdomen again and forced a swallow down. They dried him with towels and then put on him the clothes that were lying on the chair by the bath. He looked enormously better.

They carried him back out and into the room, laying him on the bed. I nodded, turning, and they followed me out and down the hall to the magically-sealed door. I knocked, and there was a muttering of words on the other side, and the door opened. Riethan, one of Galbatorix's trusted magical men or servants or whatever they were to him stood there and nodded to me in recognition.

The three men left, I walked down the hall. My first idea was to try Galbatorix's bedroom, but he had said 'find me' which implied something else, I thought. I had an instinct about it, and turned down a hallway in the opposite direction.

It was a long walk, down many staircases, into the underground depths of the palace. Finally I got to the door I sought, and the men standing guard before it murmured magical words and opened it for me, which immediately let me know I had the right place.

I entered the wide, cavernous chamber where I saw Galbatorix with his hands clasped behind his back standing in front of two black stands. The stands were intricately inlayed with gold and had sets in their tops to hold the two remaining dragon eggs, one a deep ruby red, and the other a bold emerald green. Shruikan, the king's immensely powerful and frighteningly large black dragon, lay on his haunches on the stone a few yards behind him. His piercing yellow-orange eyes locked on me as I stepped inside and the door shut behind me. I bowed respectfully to him and walked softly up to the king, feeling the dragon's large eyes following. I came to stand beside Galbatorix, gazing myself at the eggs.

They looked magnificent. Mysterious and magical. Power seemed to emanate from them and it gave me goosebumps. Yet I didn't see them as Galbatorix did. He understood all they meant; he knew more about dragons and Riders than I ever would. He knew what it was like to be connected with such a creature. It had made him into the awesome power he was, and it had also destroyed him.

We stood quietly for a while. I of all people knew how important it was sometimes to let the king be alone with his thoughts.

My eyes were drawn to the red dragon egg. The red looked more powerful to me—more threatening. It was the color of anger, of hate, of love.

I glanced up to see Galbatorix's penetrating eyes on mine. He inclined his head slightly toward the red egg.

"He's restless," he murmured. "I feel it. He's a power force ready to be set free."

"He will hatch for Murtagh?"

"Yes." The king took in a breath and let it out. "Touch the egg, Reyna."

Galbatorix had only let me close to these eggs once, and that was just on a whim to see if maybe one would hatch for me. They had not, of course. But I hadn't ever been allowed to touch them. They were infinitely precious to Galbatorix. This was a great honor.

I stepped slowly up to the stand. It came up a bit higher than my waist. I reached out my fingers and very gently touched them to the shining ruby surface. I gasped as it trembled for a moment beneath my hand. Taking a breath, I stroked the stone-like shell.

"He's anxious," I murmured. Galbatorix came up beside me and I lowered my hand and looked at him. "You'll have your Rider, my lord."

Galbatorix's eyes, lighter than I had ever seen them, gazed down at me. "I will," he replied, his voice soft. His hand came up behind me and stroked my hair, coming to rest at the base of my neck. A small smile formed on my lips. As twisted and horrible as this all was, I understood it from the king's view, as I had never been exposed to anything else. I felt his satisfaction and excitement. It was the beginning of all his plans for the future, and I felt immense pride in being allowed a part of it—a part of him.

"It's late, Reyna," he sighed. "We shall save this for tomorrow."

We. I could hardly believe I was here right now. How could someone go from a palace maid to the King of Alagaësia's cohort?

"Get ready for bed, Reyna," he said, and I nodded, bowing to both king and dragon, and walked out.

My room was adjacent to Galbatorix's, with a door between them so he could call on me whenever he wanted. We hadn't shared a bed in a while as the defeat at Tronjheim had enraged the king, and before then it had been a random, sporadic thing, because it depended on his widely-varying moods. Lately, however (before the battle), he'd only call me to his bed to have me sleep beside him, no sex involved.

I was aware of the vast age difference between us—his life was magically elongated—but he remained looking like he was in his late thirties and, as I was in my twenties, it didn't cross my mind often. Even considering his touchiness and violent rages, I much preferred being the king's paramour to my place as a common maid and concubine. In those days I had lived in constant fear, not knowing in whose bed I would be forced into next. Most men were brutish, selfish, and had horrified me. I much preferred being able to know the man I slept with, and the king had never been cruel to me in bed. Selfish, yes, but all men were selfish. Harsh too a few times, but that and his cold civility was nothing compared to the bestial lusts of most other men in this palace.

I slipped out of my dress, shoes, and necklace in my bedroom and got on a gray satin nightgown. I combed through my thick, wavy brown hair, and carefully shaved my legs. I debated putting a touch of perfume on, then decided against it.

I went out into Galbatorix's dim room, lit by a fire in the fireplace on the far wall, then climbed into the massive bed and snuggled down to wait for him.