Takes place at the same time as Eldest, though I'm not sure how far I'll go with it..we'll just have to see, won't we? Rated T for future plot and mild language.

Disclaimer: I don't own Eragon, Eldest, or anything out of the Inheritance cycle. That is all credited to Christopher Paolini. But there are a few characters I added just for the fun of it.

Murtagh groaned.

His back was twisted with pain, his arms sore from the Urgals' grips. His legs were limp in front of him, scars measuring up to his knees. His head was foggy, and slowed his thinking. He dully remembered being carried away from Ajihad, the slain bodies around him, and Eragon.

Eragon. He remembered him standing far away, watching and waiting to welcome them home. When the attack was launched, he had broken away from the group and flew toward them on Saphira. And Arya. She ran under them, but kept almost exact pace. But they were too late. All the men were slain, except Murtagh, the Twins, and Ajihad. And by the time Eragon, Saphira, and Arya got to them, Urgals had overpowered them and taken Murtagh away.

Murtagh sat up, which made his back knot in agony, but he ignored it. He scanned his surroundings. He was sitting beside a long, clear blue lake, gentle splashes lapping beside him. Urgals formed a circle around him, all watching him with fierce stares. They bore tired faces, and he noticed some of them close to drifting off. But they were watching him, waiting for the slightest wrong movement. Far off, he recognized the Twins, speaking to an abnormally large Urgal.

His brain buzzed. Nothing made sense. Why were these Urgals treating Murtagh with hostility, while their leader spoke to the Twins as if they were allies?

He almost laughed at his own stupidity. Idiot, he told himself. The Twins were traitors, working with Galbatorix, leading his Urgals, spying on the Varden. It made perfect sense. With a sigh, Murtagh leaned back, placing his hands behind him flatly on the ground. He couldn't say he was exactly surprised. The Twins never treated him very kindly, even after Ajihad accepted him. Nor Eragon, which he could never understand, seeing as the rest of the Varden adored him.

Murtagh was now in a foul mood and wide-awake, despite his tired body's protests. He felt like killing the Twins right then, but he knew it would be a pointless effort, seeing as all these Urgals surrounded him. Instead he let his mind wander, back to when he was in a cell in Farthen Dûr.

The first thing to enter his mind was Nasuada. He couldn't forget the way she looked. The way she smiled. The way she talked..

A loud knock sounded three times on the door. Murtagh looked up from his scroll curiously; it was too early for lunch, and he didn't expect Eragon to visit him so soon. The door opened slowly, and a young woman stepped inside. She glanced around the room uncertainly, but smiled when she saw him.

"Hello." Her voice was soothing and sweet. She wore a long golden dress, flowing gracefully just above her ankles, her hair up elegantly in a bun. She walked with utmost confidence and authority, her gentle steps sweeping the floor as she came closer.

Murtagh blinked. "Hi." He stood up. "My name is Murtagh."

She nodded and held out a hand for him to shake. "Call me Nasuada."

He looked at the hand, bent, and kissed it. Nasuada looked charmed. "Why have you come to visit me?" Murtagh asked.

"My father suggested I see you. Among my many other errands, this one I thought I might enjoy."

"Your father?" he echoed.

"Ajihad." Nasuada beamed with pride.

Murtagh looked at the ceiling thoughtfully. He didn't think Ajihad had any children, although he had to admit Nasuada's resemblance to him. He shook his head, trying to clear his mind, and looked back at her. After a few moments, she tilted her head to one side. "Do you like it here, Murtagh?"

Goosebumps formed on his arms as his name slipped from her lips. He shrugged. "I wish I could see more of Farthen Dûr. I'm certain that under other circumstances, I would enjoy it."

An odd expression clouded Nasuada's face. "I suppose." She looked back at Murtagh, as if only then remembering his presence. "If you will excuse me, I have many things to do. I hope to see you again, Murtagh."

"Good day, Nasuada."

With a bright smile, she slipped out, leaving Murtagh to sigh and plop back on his bed.

He wished we could have said more. He naturally liked her, and she didn't seem to think he was an enemy by his parentage. Not like Eragon. They had gotten close on their journey to the Varden, but then he told him about his father and Eragon couldn't look at him the same way again.

Not that Murtagh hadn't expected this much, but he had hoped he could at least trust Eragon not to think of him differently. He wondered what Eragon was thinking now. Mourning, or celebrating?

He smacked his forehead. Why was he thinking so strangely, thinking Eragon was an enemy? After all, Murtagh hadn't put his friend in the best position when they arrived at the Varden. He was put in a cell, and Eragon couldn't do anything about it.

Truthfully, he was dying to see Eragon when he was locked up. Eragon did see him, but it lasted a few minutes, and Eragon seemed to have his mind elsewhere. The only time he really seemed interested was when they talked about Arya.

Murtagh laughed. The Urgals around him stirred, but he continued his merriment.

Arya and Eragon. That was a funny couple. Arya had to be somewhere over sixty. And yet Eragon pursued her. Murtagh wondered how Eragon would react when she turned him down. He knew Arya was smart enough not to give into her feelings, which she might or might not have, you never know with her. And Eragon was a young man, he wasn't nearly ready for a broken heart.

Murtagh hugged his knees thoughtfully. Maybe he should stop thinking about Eragon's twisted romance and get on with his own life. But how could he forget that kid? He had saved his ass numerous times, and how thankful was he? Not very. He went along prancing with his dragon and trying to be a hero. He wondered what the Varden's first thoughts about Eragon were. He wasn't much, and they probably didn't want to freely put themselves in his hands.

He sighed and glanced at the Twins again. They were coming toward him, frowning. One shoved an Urgal out of the way with unexpected strength. They stopped in front of Murtagh, analyzing him. "You're awake," one observed.

"Really? I hadn't noticed."

Their eyes narrowed. "About time. Let's go."

"Go where?" His patience was dry.

One snorted. "Urû'Baen," said the other.

A small bit of fear knotted in his stomach, but his voice didn't express it. "To see the king," he finished.

Grins mounted their faces. "Careful. He isn't as kind as we."

Murtagh clenched his teeth and stood. The Twins took a step back, a flash of alarm shown in their faces, then mocking grins when Murtagh was forced to yelp at the pain in his back. He looked at them coldly. "So that Urgal attack," he growled. "That was you."

"Give the boy a prize." They turned and directed their attention to the Urgals. Pointing to three, they said in union, "Guard him while we travel. We want to get to Urû'Baen by tomorrow." Flashing Murtagh one last smile, they marched to the front of the group with the head Urgal.

Murtagh watched as the three Urgals surrounded him. He felt a small surge of pity at their tired state. The Twins had to work the Urgals inhumanely hard to get them so tired.

I know, I know, weird place to leave off, but I had to. It's a set-up for a different section.

Okay, I'll try to update soon.