Ah, this is my first shot at anything related to the Inheritance cycle, written by Christopher Paolini. Anyhows, please review! Review = more updates ;D ;D
Also; I sadly dont own any of the characters :( sad face! * nibbles on raggamuffin* buuut ima play with them anyhows! MUAHAHA!
oh, and one more thing, this will most likely be angsty, dark, tormented and so on and so forth. So all thoose looking for a cuddly romance fanfic, turn around now and save urselves the scars! :3
(Thanks to a review, an error came to my attention, and it was a rather HUGE one. Sorry! but it has been corrected...for now)
Enjoy!
Still in shock he stared at the grinning twins with utter contempt filling his dark eyes.
-you! He pushed himself of the ground, about to jump on the twins, weapon or none be damned he would tear their skin of their bones.-you foul evil little traitors!
One of the twins raised a hand and muttered – letta- and Murtagh was forced to a stop by the invisible bonds that were the ancient language.
– We are no traitors, no, we serve loyally the rightful emperor of all of alageisa. The varden are traitors, yes, and you son of Morzan .He sneered cunningly- yes The emperor will be… relieved to see that the son of his most loyal servant has returned. The twin stepped forward to the young man, sneering as he saw a flicker of fear dance across his face, disappearing as fast as it had appeared.
Thoughts rushed through his head, trying to think of a way to break free, if not now then later, before reaching Urû`baen at least. He had no magic to free him of the twins, his mind was racing; trying to think of a way to escape.
Resisting is futile, the emperor wishes to see you, and see you he shall…hmm… what to do with you until then though. Surely, he wouldn't mind if we pre-start your homecoming celebrations, i`m sure you wish to know what lies ahead of you. – With that he raised his hand and touched Murtaghs forehead.
Pain. Searing white hot pain crushed every thought of resistance as it pushed through his skull, down his spine setting his every limb on fire. Not even the welcomed darkness let him free of the pain; in the back of his head he could hear the twin's laughter.
No. I will not bend to these petty witches.
Not a scream emitted his mouth, much to the displeasure of the twins.
No he would not put sound to his pain. He would not beg.
He had learnt restraint and control long ago.
Vaguely he was aware of being moved onto a horse and bound, after that there was only darkness with a bitter taste of pain.