Fallen Chapter one
Murtagh could feel the unease of those around him as he stalked down the corridor in Gallbatorix's bleak castle. Everyone was uneasy, to say the least, with the son of Morzan around. He ignored them all and continued on his way to the King's throne room. Only a few people would look at him, and their gazes were either filled with fear or hate.
Their hate, in Murtagh's eyes, was unjustifiable. For one thing, he had never done anything to hurt them. If they cast their hate for Morzan on him, they were lower than he was. Secondly, he had not asked for this. He wished wholeheartedly that this had never happened to him. With each kill, his sorrow grew. If not for true names, Murtagh would not be in such a depressing position. He had never wanted to be something so evil, so fowl and disgusting. He hated what he had become as much as he hated his twisted father, Morzan.
When Murtagh arrived at the unnecessarily large doors to the throne room, he paused and took a deep breath, to keep him from breaking down into a fit of hysteria. What am I doing? This is ridiculous! Do I even know where I am? Who I am? I don't get it… and I fear I never will… screw it. Just go in.
He pushed open the door and walked to where Gallbatorix sat, a look of twisted joy all over his face.
"You summoned me." Murtagh said in monotone.
"Your voice is so flat." Gallbatorix chided. "…As usual. I wonder if you possess any emotion. No passion, no hate, no fear, no love. You're just an… empty man." It took all Murtagh had to not display the anger he felt. But in the back of his mind, he wondered if Gallbatorix was right. Ever since Murtagh arrived in Uru'Baen, he learned to suppress all emotion, for they show weakness and are easily exploited. When he first arrived, he felt fear but he was also brave and stood up to the king. When Thorn had hatched for him, he felt a sinking feeling. He knew he was trapped forever, and a feeling of ownership washed over him, despite his disappointment. After awhile, he felt lost and alone. Was Eragon coming for him? When it was proved that Eragon had discarded him like yesterday's news, he felt betrayal and deep sadness. Then he was relieved that Eragon had not come. Eragon was the last hope for this cursed land, and if he fell into the King's clutches, all was lost and Darkness would consume all that was good in this world. He had felt a lot within the first month and a half, but he finally realized that he had to get over it all and forget it. He taught himself to be empty, emotionless. He was merely a puppet, at the beck and call of Gallbatorix.
But there was one thing he felt. Hate. Not for anyone but himself. He hated what he was. Every time he saw himself in the mirror, he felt sick. When Gallbatorix gave him a task, a bitter taste filled his mouth and he took the job with reluctance. He so desperately wished that he could vanish. But alas, his wishes tended to fall unnoticed.
"All you are, Murtagh, is a play thing of mine. And I can do whatever I want with what's mine." Gallbatorix said in a voice that just asked for Murtagh to erupt. But Murtagh did not fall for such tricks anymore. With rebellion came pain, and pain was one of the feelings he detested the most.
Gallbatorix sighed. "You're so boring. And you just can't seem to get the job done." At first, Gallbatorix sounded playful, but his last words came out with a tone that was pure evil. "I asked for you to get me the rider. And you come back empty handed, save for Zar'roc." Murtagh had taken Zar'roc from Eragon, his father's sword. It was his only inheritance, his cursed inheritance. "Why do you return with nothing?"
"I did what you said and I tried to get the rider. But he evaded my clutches, due to his new Elvin powers. It was unexpected, but I will prepare myself for next time." He said with a dull tone. His gaze was flat, not looking anywhere in particular.
"Lucky for you, there is a next time. I'm feeling generous tonight, and I allow you to live for a while more. But you can't go without punishment. I must teach you what is right and what is wrong. That is what a father is to do, and of course, your real one never did and that damned Tornac-"
"Hey!" Murtagh yelled. He had let Gallbatorix get his goat, but Tornac was a better man than anyone else in this filthy castle would ever be.
"Finally, I see some anger. Anyways, I think of myself as your adopted father. And I couldn't fail my little boy. Will you let your daddy down, Murtagh?"
Murtagh said nothing. After getting mad at him for what he said about Tornac, he did not want to give Gallbatorix what he wanted.
"Of course you will. If you do, I will be forced to do what I so terribly do not want to do." He sneered. Murtagh could only think "Then when do you do it with a twisted smile?"
"And this is an instance where a father must punish his son, something he hates to do. Murtagh, will you ever learn?" The last four words echoed throughout his head. Then, a searing pain erupted in his mind. It felt as if someone was assaulting his conscience with a dagger. He grabbed his head and cut off all bonds with Thorn; he did not want to cause his dragon such suffering.
It went on and on, like the pain would never end. Murtagh did not know it, but he had fallen to his knees and was crying in pain. When Gallbatorix finally stopped, Murtagh was lying on the floor, his breaths coming in short, raspy bursts. Gallbatorix summoned a guard who hauled Murtagh to his room.
As Murtagh was carried away, a voice sounded clear in his head.
"Murtagh…You are among the fallen."