"Bloodstained"

by Hailie Jade S

Disclaimer: I do not own Eragon or anything else except the plot, so far. Well, that was obvious. Otherwise this would be in an Eragon book, not on fanfictiondotnet.

Summary: Yet another after-book-two interpretation. But it won't be normal, believe me! Mostly in Murtagh's POV. Remember: NOT NORMAL! Not even any OCs yet...

Rating: T - because, well, that's just a good rating.

A/Ns: My second Eragon fanfic. It's (hopefully) better than my other one. It's an ongoing story, yes. Sorry about the shortness - it's really more a prologue than the actual story.

Murtagh lay, curled in a ball, gasping for breath, though every time he sucked in air it caused him immense pain. Galbatorix hadn't laid a finger on him – oh, no, the king had better ways to hurt someone deserving.

Was Murtagh deserving? Was he wrong? Was Galbatorix right? Did Thorn's Rider do something so terribly wrong that he should be tormented like this? He reached stumblingly for his dragon's mind, needing to feel the red beast's reassuring mental touch, to make sure he was there. In a way, Galbatorix's cruelest punishment was that he would pull dragon and Rider apart.

Thorn? Murtagh said, wanting, needing his life's partner, the other half of him, his complement. Thorn? Where are you? Are you back with me?

Murtagh! the dragon cried with more emotion than he usually preferred to show. What did he do to you? Where are you? Are you okay? You're awake again!

Barely, Murtagh replied grimly, trying to uncurl his body. He drew his breath in sharply and stopped the motion. How ironic it was that he should be in the most luxurious room he'd ever been able to call his own, and here he was, in a tiny ball on the floor. His cheek was cold against the fancy wooden floor. If he'd only fallen a foot to the left, he'd be on the squishy, soft rug. No such luck. Not with Galbatorix behind it.

What are you talking about? Thorn asked, and Murtagh could feel him taking to the air, magnificent wings pounding the air. You fell? What did he do to you?

Of course I fell, Murtagh said impatiently. What did you expect?

What else did he do?

The usual, Murtagh said. Convulsions racked his body at the memory. Ooh… Thorn, please come! How badly he needed to see his friend!

I'm coming, the red dragon soothed. I'm coming, Small One.

Later, Murtagh sat against Thorn's side, breathing in deeply. The lulling scent of roses hung in the air. Despite the fact that it wasn't very comfortable to be seated on the cold pavement in the Gardens, it was still the favorite hangout of Thorn and Murtagh. It was so peaceful, with the green everywhere, punctuated by bright bursts of color. It was always so quiet when they were in there, too, because none of the servants dared approach with the dragon and Rider in the Gardens. But among the semi-silence was a wonderful place for thinking.

Murtagh was thinking at the moment about Galbatorix. The man confused him! One moment, he was leaning forward, dark eyes glittering, spilling the most beautiful plans for Alagäesia. Or telling Murtagh of power, of strength, of dark secrets so magnificent that they sent shivers crawling across the shared hides of Murtagh and Thorn. How grand he made it all sound! How alluring. The man was golden-tongued, the best speaker Murtagh had ever encountered.

But then he was ordering Murtagh to capture his brother. And when Murtagh failed, torturing him. Cutting him off from Thorn.

Was it worth it? Did Galbatorix really deserve Murtagh's fealty if he so enjoyed inflicting pain upon him?

Not that Murtagh had a choice. Not now that Galbatorix knew his Name. Not just his name, his true name. Galbatorix had reached long and deep into Murtagh's being, searching endlessly, but finally, he had found it. And because he knew it, there was nothing he couldn't make Murtagh do. And once he'd had Murtagh's, he'd been able to get Thorn's. And yet there had been just enough of a loophole to let Eragon go free.

What had so possessed Murtagh to let his brother run free? Saphira's Rider was doomed anyway. No one could escape Galbatorix for long. Sooner or later, Eragon was… Well, to be blunt, he had about as much hope of freedom as did a roasted rabbit in Thorn's talons. But did Eragon deserve capture?

Again with the 'deserve', Thorn pointed out dryly. What if there are no answers? There is no reason to look for them. We have no choice but to do what Galbatorix commands. Why fight it? It causes you pain. It causes me pain!

You make it sound simple, Murtagh said heavily. Eragon's my brother, Thorn.

So?

So it's different. You never knew your clutchmates. You don't know how it is.

Is Saphira my clutchmate?

What? Murtagh said, taken aback by the question.

Galbatorix speaks of capturing Eragon and Saphira so that she can mate with me, because she is the only remaining female dragon. Am I related to her?

She doesn't have to mate with you, necessarily, Murtagh pointed out. Not if one of the other eggs hatches.

They haven't hatched yet. What are the odds that they will? Thorn demanded. Besides, who do you think Galbatorix will want to sire more eggs? Whatever pathetic dragon hatches next, or me

You're so conceited.

Answer my question.

I don't know if Saphira's your sister, Murtagh confessed. Galbatorix never said. But didn't dragons used to interbreed?

Yes, Thorn said calmly. I merely wished to know.

But if we don't catch Saphira soon, it won't matter, because Galbatorix won't let us live for you to mate with her.

We'll catch her, Thorn growled. She was a fine fighter, but nothing I can't handle next time. You work with the sharp stick and your magic, and I'll take her on. Don't worry. Together, we can do anything.

Please review! It'll get better.