NOTE: This story is not meant the follow the canon ending of Inheritance or emulate the writing style of Paolini. Artistic liberties have been taken with some of the elements from the concluding scenes and altered to fit with the vision the author has as an alternate end of the series. Most if not all of the outstanding questions WILL be answered in some way and will continue beyond the confines of the book to develop the story just a little more.

Inheritance: Alternatives

Chapter 1: The King Falls

Eragon had been surprised when the King had agreed to his challenge of a fair battle, even after his low move of holding innocents by his side as a living shield. Far too honourable to be a straightforward deal, the Rider had nonetheless felt confident about what would happen in the coming blows and parries. Galbatorix was old, mad and even with the power of hundreds of other Eldunari, had not taken a more active role in his Empire's dominance. All the ingredients for an outmatched fight were on his side, a feeling that he was sure Saphira would end up scolding him for. With both his hostages now freed, Eragon could feel like maybe this would be the final and thankfully fair fight the land had been awaiting for years. But it was not long before the young Rider had come to regret ever proposing such a challenge.
It seemed like no matter what Eragon had tried, it was like his opponent could anticipate every single move, step, parry and blow. Galbatorix moved his sword with even more speed than would be anticipated for such an old Rider, his bone-white blade gleaming as it clashed with the fiery blue or Brisingr. The King made no attempt to even try to fight instead, choosing to block or avoid Eragon's attacks. A jab to his side made Galbatorix sidestep, swinging his own blade in retaliation to the young Rider's plan to catch him off guard. A smile crossed his lips, his jet black lock falling down in front of his eyes, giving him the appearance of a madman.
"This is it? I expected FAR more from an adversary like you. I wanted to have a challenge and it seems I've kept you alive for nothing!" he sneered, his eyes almost consumed with his lust for power. Eragon cringed at the sight, but still determined to end it. With Arya and Elva frozen as mere spectators, he could do nothing else except try to strike and strike again.

Shruikan's efforts to fight off his master's attackers were also too risky for Saphira to do much of anything. The black male continued to roar ferociously, jumping forward with a swipe of mighty claw every time the dragoness tried to get close. All the while, his mind was fixated on the most basic of his instincts, stretching out his talons as those same messages replayed over and over and over.
"Kill…crush…need…need to taste…blood…!"
The power of Galbatorix's magic added to his mental assault, Saphira occasionally flinching as a gruesome image crossed through her mental vision. She had to think of a way to get through, but Shruikan was having none of it. Blue eyes contradicting his ferocious nature, his fangs bore as a long drip of predatory saliva fell to the floor. So much evil coursing through his body...it was a wonder that his spit hadn't begun to eat into the uneven stone floor of the king's chamber. She tried again, pushing her body forward with an almighty swipe of her claw, accompanied by a roar that echoed around the chamber as though there were a hundred of her at once! Saphira's attacks were swatted away by the larger ebony dragon, almost as if she were the fly around a horse. The very concept hurt her pride as she snarled with each failed attempt. Her partner-of-her-heart-and-mind was fighting for his life and yet she could do nothing but try to harm this giant monster. It sickened her such a beast could be considered one of her kind, all of his majesty and power corrupted and destroyed into this hollow shell of a dragon. And yet, in a way deep in the back of her mind, she found that she could still pity Shruikan. His eyes seemed to have lost that usual brilliant glimmer one would expect from a dragon. Having lost his own Rider and been forced to serve the tyrant Galbatorix his entire life, his mind warped beyond the point of rescue, she took no pleasure in what she was doing. But regardless, she attempted another charge at him, determined to at least cause some damage. She quickly found herself knocked side ways as if she were no more than a hatchling aggravating the dragon.
A quick glance to see how Eragon was faring didn't help calm her mind to assess the situation as she had been taught. Her partner was struggling and each time she was distracted, that demon sent more horrifying images into her mind. Sights of Eragon torn from her replaced made her body spasm in shivers. Given his size, his manuverability would be limited in such a small space. If she kept moving, she could easily evade the behemoth. She roared at him, leaping with her wings propelling her forward. Movement to her left caught her eye just a fraction too late and she felt something heavy slam into her side, throwing her to the side and into the far wall as if she weighed nothing. Dazed for a moment, Saphira saw it was Shruikan's tail that had struck her, sending scratches and gashes across her sapphire scales.

Arya on the other hand was busy searching her cache of mental spells, trying to find a way to free herself from the tyrant king's sheer power. The ancient Orchid was just at her side, mere inches from her fingertips. If she could only free her body from the spell that held her and Elva...it was clear that neither Eragon nor Saphira seemed to be fairing very well. This horrid creature was able to hold them and still fight off Eragon as if he were no more than a child. The way Galbatorix fought with such ease and precision it made even an almost stoic soul like Arya pause in fright at a nauseating thought. That perhaps everything they had worked for would end here, just with the flick of a blade…she reaffirmed her concentrated look, straining against the strange state she had found herself in. By her side, Elva looked like she was going to be sick. But also an emotion with Arya had never expected to see. Elva looked scared, terrified even. The elf often forgot that she was just a girl at heart, even with her 'blessing' giving her the appearance and manner of someone almost triple her age. That look alone which was briefly directed towards her made Arya even more determined to break them free, especially with the cacophony of noise that raged mere metres away. Roaring of dragons along with the occasional crude insult flung at Eragon by the king, it was certainly the soundtrack to a final battle. The cliché ending wasn't accompanying it however.

Eragon grit his teeth as a poorly timed parry from hearing a boom to his left sent his foot skidding along the stone. It gave Galbatorix the opening he needed, flicking his blade until it's edge slashed against the Rider's leg. He hissed in an inhale out of pain, stumbling to one of his knees until he felt the king's sword at his throat. He felt a burning sensation along his side, taking a moment to glance over at Saphira. Seeing his dragon crumpled against the wall whilst Shruikan's monstrous features continued to roar at her sent a chill down his neck. He turned his attention back to Galbatorix, clutching Brisingr in retaliation. Even in this position, he took a swing, exclaiming his sword's name until it's sapphire blade sung with sapphrie flame. It scorched into the king's hip, Galbatorix stumbling backwards as he growled in pain. How could he fallen for such a trick? He felt cheated, stupid...he wouldn't let this stand. With a war cry that could echo an insane person's scream, Galbatorix went on the offensive, bringing down smash after smash against the blue flames of Eragon's sword. It took all he had to try and keep Brisingr up against his blows.
"This is ridiculous!" he tried to say to Saphira. "Every move I make, he knows how to counter it and without the Orchid, we have no chance of taking him down with all his wards..."
His tone suggested worry, almost as if he was asking Saphira for advice on what to do next. His failure to hear a response didn't put his mind at ease as the king continued to slam against Brisingr's alight surface. And unsuspecting to all, someone was watching the scene with a twisting sensation brewing in his gut.

Murtagh watched from the entranceway behind Galbatorix's throne, his lower lip almost threatening to bleed he was biting it so hard. This whole affair was a bloody mess and it didn't seem like it would belong until Eragon became just that, crushed under the king's shoes like some sort of sword-wielding insect. Even Saphira wasn't faring much better, her legs and position shaky after being thrown into stone by Shruikan's sheer power. Murtagh's matted hair hung loosely in front of his face, almost as if it was helping to obscure the scene before him. Something he would be grateful for given what he was having to watch. As he continued to watch his 'master' and brother lock steel blade against blade, Thorn stood nearby, the ruby coloured dragon watching his Rider's face with a soft worried croon. Murtagh gently touched Thorn's snout to keep him quiet as he saw Eragon being repeatedly attacked by the tyrant ruler. It frustrated him to no end. For the first time in years, he could do something. He could rebel against his shackles, tear them to pieces, finally do something right for the people he had betrayed. Yet, even though he had managed to finally escape the king's grasp, Murtagh wasn't sure what to do. As soon as Galbatorix would realise when he wasn't distracted by fighting, he could easily use the Word to enslave them again as if it was like crossing out a mistake on parchment and rewriting. Inside, he felt sick that he had to stand and watch such a one-way battle take place. His mind worked to think of what he could do, eyes widening when he came across a solution in the midst of muddled thoughts. It would be risky, but it might work. He would just have to play it carefully.

Eragon's sword clanged and smacked against it's counterpart almost tirelessly, the two figures locked into this routine of clashing metal almost as if it had been choreographed by someone else. Every step and pivot of their feet, each ringing sound of the blades colliding with each other seemed to match one another as if it was designed to be that. Although this mainly came from the sheer skill Galbatorix produced in this confrontation. Eragon had almost forgotten he was once a Rider amidst all of his seclusion and terrible deeds and it was clear that the man's ability outweighed his own. The only time he ever seemed to stop was when Eragon needed to so stop his arms giving up on him. Galbatorix took the opportunity, using the hilt of his blade to hit Eragon in his cheek. He grunted, glancing down at the once-farm boy with a snarl.
"You can keep up…but you've yet to strike the final blow! Even with Umaroth at your side…" he taunted, voice dripping with glee at how easy it was to simply keep the boy at bay. Eragon spat onto the floor, saliva tinged with a shade of red as he swung back again, clashing against the King's sword as he had countless times before. He wasn't going to fall for this. He couldn't, not so close to the end. Even if this strange power the King held stopped him from using the dragon's strength. He heard another roar of Saphira behind him, relief flowing through him after her period of relative silence. A response roar from Shruikan deafened hers for a moment as he fought to stay concentrated on the fight.

Something that Arya could see easily from her frozen position. It had taken quite a bit of work, but Arya had just about managed to start moving her hand towards Orchid. The weapon's gleaming surface despite the dim conditions gave her a light feeling that she was edging towards claiming some sort of great treasure. A fitting description for such a weapon that she could simply use to end the fight here and now! Her mental ability strained against the strange magic that the King had used, something which she would have to dwell on later if she even managed to survive to think about it. A few more inches, a few more seconds, her fingertips brushing against it's surface…unfortunately for her, Galbatorix's minor break when he had shoved Eragon to the side had come at the perfect moment for him to catch her in the act. With a sneer escaping his sharp features, the king thrust out his hand, spitting out his words with menace that was almost unparalleled.
"Jierda!" echoed the word, the effect almost instant as Arya suddenly felt like she'd been winded and hit in the jaw all at once. She felt her body lift from it's rooted position on the ground, her eyes flicking over to Elva who seemed to be in just as similar a panic when a sudden impact made all fall dark. The elf tumbled downwards from the spot on the wall she had hit, the sheer force of the magic having knocked her out. The Orchid rolled alongside the ground, coming to rest near her crumpled frame, gleaming like a gemstone amidst the flames from the torches. The yell the Elva gave out as she two succumbed to the powerful effect of the King's magic made Eragon turn in shock. A move Galbatorix was too quick to exploit.
"Arya!" came the yell from the young Rider, eventually taking the hilt of the king's sword sword as it smacked into his back. Pain surged through him, causing him to yell as he slipped to the ground. Saphira felt the wave of feeling rush through her, cursing harshly to herself and letting it out as a roar when she knew she couldn't help him. Not with Shruikan baying for her blood to spill.

With an almost satisfied exhale, Galbatorix rested against his blade like it were some sort of cane. His attention seemed to be drawn for a moment as his eyes glanced behind him for a moment, his former smile spreading across his lips as the prescence of a certain young Rider made him look up.
"No need to stay hidden, Murtagh, by all means show yourself!" the king exclaimed. As he turned around, the young man stepped out from the shadows, seemingly alone and with the crimson blade of Zar'roc seeming to sing in the air of battle. The king's smile faded somewhat, dark eyes drawn towards that needle of red metal with a curious brow.
"You wish to fight?"
"You know my mind, master, you know I am drawn to this fight" came the reply, the Rider brushing a stray lock out of the his line of sight whilst his grip on Zar'roc tightened. "If he's going to fall, I want to be the one that makes him"
Eragon grit his teeth, stumbling back to his feet at this momentary distraction. So, Galbatorix had been doing this as a set up? Just to make this final battle seem like some sort of twisted feud between family? The notion made him sick, but he knew full well what Murtagh was capable of. Galbatorix waved a hand as if to dismiss what was happening, smirking softly as Murtagh walked past him. Eragon tightened his hold on Brisingr's hilt, readying it for what would be another inevitable clash. He could take solace in the fact that his half-brother would not be as strong as the king, as least not in magic terms. But his immediate concern was for Saphira. If Thorn was waiting to strike and she had already been hurt by Shruikan then…he shook his head, spitting again onto the floor to get rid of the taste of blood. Murtagh made no move to prepare himself for combat, idly spinning Zar'roc in his free hand as his eyes bore his opponent down.
"So, it comes down to this, doesn't it Eragon? My blade against yours. Should be a good fight, don't you agree?"
"If that's how you feel, Murtagh, than I truly pity you" Eragon snarled. "I've held you off before, I can do it again"
"But can you do the same when you're bloody and bruised, dripping crimson onto that stone?" he queried, motioning to the ground with his blade's tip. "You may be strong, Eragon, no denying that. But not that strong"
"And could the same be said of you? The loyal servant who waits for his master to beat down his opponent so he can stand a chance?"
"This isn't about him!" spat Murtagh. "This is about us. Don't you see it, Eragon? We have inherited this war, this conflict from the Riders past, all these different factions creating a battle that has plagued this land for hundreds of years! I can end it right here and now with this very blade. Just give me a reason to…"
Eragon kept his angry look but felt something was…off. Murtagh was certainly ensnared by the King's words and would have to follow his orders no questions asked, but he had never known his half-brother to act like some sort of speaker on behalf of his master. Had he been further affected by the dark magic he'd been exposed to or…? He decided to play along for the timebeing, casting a cautious gaze at Saphira. She was simply eyeing Shruikan down now, either being cautious of one another or having made their battle move into their minds. He had no way of knowing and his current situation left him unable to help. His teeth bore in a light intake of breath as he spoke again.
"So, you kill me and everything suddenly gets better? Not like you to start speaking of glorious futures, Murtagh"
"Who said he was planning to kill you?"
That sentence made Eragon stop in his tracks. It hadn't come from Murtagh, but Galbatorix. His stance relaxed somewhat as he seemed shocked that this fight wouldn't be to the death, especially after such a battle with the King. Galbatorix stood up from his throne, having returned to it amidst this exchange of words.
"That's right, Eragon. I grow tired of a fight where I would clearly win. Where would be the challenge? So I'm having Murtagh take my place. A sibling rivalry of epic proportions!" he exclaimed with a sick glee. "Only 3 conditions. No magic, no Eldunari and no killing. Those are the only rules…"
Eragon could only conclude Murtagh had received his orders mentally, readying Brisingr to strike again when he saw his opponent do much the same with Zar'roc. The look of annoyance in not being able to deliver a finishing blow was evident in his half-brother's face, but yet again something seemed off…what was it? He had no time to think. If that's how it was to be settled, how the fate of the land was to be settled, then so be it. By Galbatorix's rules, Thorn technically couldn't come to break Saphira's concentration, a sensation even he could detect in the haze of his battle focused mind.

With a yell, Murtagh suddenly charged forward, swinging his sword down against his already beaten down opponent. The familiar singing of metal in the air echoed throughout the chamber as Eragon struggled to block each strike. Murtagh had the advantage against him physically, his already exhausted body seeming to ache with every blow to Brisingr's sapphire blade. It was enough to make Saphira break away from her mental battle with the other.
"Little one!"
"Saphira, stay focused! Shruikan's mind may be a wreck but he is still powerful, don't worry about me!"
"He may be strong in his war against my mind, but you are fading! Take my strength, you must…"
"It's not part of the rules!"
A light growl hit his ears at her disapproval.
"Don't choose to be honourable, Eragon, not now!"
"He and Murtagh may walk the path of the dark, but I choose to stay as a Rider. I will follow his terms…"
Another growl, this time in frustration, travelled into his brain as Saphira focused back on Shruikan. She had to be thankful he had seemed to stop his rage, her body still a mixture of red and blue after his last assault. Was Galbatorix keeping him back for some reason? She was partially grateful and equally concerned. Though she would stick to her Rider's wishes. No matter what happened, she had to hold him back.

Murtagh was still relentless in his attacks, jabbing at Eragon's knee, slashing at his arm, swinging for his head. Even if it wasn't to the death, he was certainly acting like it should be. He felt Thorn's presence enter his mind, taking the time to back off and let his brother recover so he could talk.
"Murtagh…this plan troubles me. What if it doesn't work?"
"Then I'll deal with the consequences. Right now, the King needs to feel that I still serve him. If that means having to put on a show, I'll do it"
"Show or not, time it carefully" the red male warned. "I doubt Shruikan will be taken by surprise this easily again…"
Murtagh knew his dragon was right. If he took too long then the opportunity to carry out his plan would slip through his fingers. He grit his teeth, realising that Eragon would need to win the duel in order for the King to expose himself. He relaxed his arm with Zar'roc somewhat, beginning to let his brother take blows at him now. He blocked all of them, occasionally making them deflect off at odd angles to at least give the impression he was still fighting back. Eragon's newfound sense of strength was genuine however, Murtagh having to hide the smile curling at the edge of his lips at how skilled he'd become. A genuine mistimed on his part let Eragon's blade slice into his arm, Murtagh hissing in pain but holding back his anger. It was all necessary, that's what he kept telling himself. All necessary…

In a matter of minutes after what seemed to have raged on for hours of back and forth blows to them, the two young men stood panting at each other, even if Eragon was significantly worse for wear with blood dripping from his open wounds. Murtagh wasn't looking much better, slashes to his arms and chest evident from the red soaking into his clothing. Galbatorix watched with a keen interest. Even after having weakened the Rider significantly, even a fool could see that Eragon was a force to be reckoned with. He could sense that the boy had kept to his terms, not drawing strength from the dragoness be was bonded to or using the strength of Umaroth, Glaedr or any of the old ones. He was…impressed. If he was clearly a match for Murtagh, he would be a match for anyone. The king stepped down from his raised thrown, brushing roughly past Murtagh and causing his servant to stumble a little onto Zar'roc. With a smile, Galbatorix stood back from Eragon, Vragr sheathed against his belt as he began to speak.
"Such power, even after all that's happened…you impress me Eragon"
"Flattery…isn't going to work on me…" he panted.
"Not many impress me, boy. You should know that from how many have fallen by my blade. And you know full well that I've been wanting to resurrect the Riders ever since their tragic fall…"
"A fall you caused!"
"Technicalities" the King responded, waving a hand. "You've just given me a way to do just that, young Rider" he continued, his mouth moving to utter out another Word. Eragon felt the same sensations as before, freezing, a mental haze of forgetfulness until he realised the King was right in his face.
"Join me, Eragon. You can end this pointless death right now, all you have to do is swear…"
"Never!"
"…swear to me" Galbatorix carried on, almost if Eragon had never spoken. "You'll become even more powerful than your weakling of a brother"
"I'm sorry to disappoint you, "master". But I doubt that my brother knows just how much power a single Word can have!"

And with that, the King's eyes grew wide in shock when the Word parted from Murtagh's lips to enter his ears. That single moment almost seemed to transport him away, the sheer surprise of what he had just heard evident on his face. Murtagh had…betrayed him? And used his own weapon against him? How? He was too caught up in this to even realise what his servant said next, a yell of anger escaping him as he felt something weakening him, something sapping his defenses. With an exclamation of fury as he turned to Murtagh, several large spheres of light shot out of the King's body, spiralling upwards to the roof of the great chamber and then bursting in a shower of magical lights. Murtagh turned his head and yelled "Now!", executing the second part of his plan. With Shruikan so caught up in combating Saphira's calculated assault against his mind, he had no idea of Thorn's existence when the red dragon suddenly pounced with as loud as roar as ever. Teeth from that crimson maw sank into the black dragon's scales causing him to howl in pain from the unexpected attack. Even Saphira had her concentration broken when the flash of red suddenly ravaged into Shruikan's side. Thorn shot her a look, the female instantly taking up his lead and pouncing as well. Now both the dragons were attacking their larger counterpart, eliciting what could only be the equivalent of screams from the black monster. Even as he tried to shake them loose and slam them into the cold stone, both Saphira and Thorn were resilient. Their feral instincts refused let them part their jaws, keeping their "prey" locked in and letting blood pour from his wounds. Shruikan was still fighting back, but the tables were turning. Even as the battle between the beasts raged on, Eragon could see Galbatorix beginning to march towards his brother, fury billowing from his very being as he struggled what to think. It was only when he realised just what his brother had done did he make his next move. Those strange balls of light, the wards that kept this iron-fisted ruler safe from harm, had seemed to dissipate into nothingness as if they had never been there in the first place. It left the King vunerable. And with the calling of strength from over two hundred minds of great and wise dragons at his disposal, Eragon could hear Umaroth's voice amidst the surge of power.

"Use our strength, Eragon…use our power to strike down this tyrant and avenge everyone who has been lost under his rule…bring peace back to the land."

All it took was a few seconds to seal Galbatorix's fate and Eragon had no idea what he had just done or even how he had done it. The action had come automatically, almost as if the thought to act had come from a void of thought that even he had no idea where it's origin lay. But as soon as he even began to contemplate it, an overwhelming sense of accomplishment crossed through his body, an excitement that seemed to well within that the battle was finally to come to an end and in their favour. The gedway ignasia on his palm seemed to shine with a brilliant silver light, casting itself over the King without a single word being said. Just as it looked like Galbatorix would strike at Murtagh for managing to escape his control, he had suddenly frozen in his actions. The bone-white blade of Vrangr had clattered to the ground, hands gripping through his long black wires of hair, eyes bulging from their sockets. His mouth seemed to want to open to speak as he stumbled for a moment, finally stumbling onto one knee as his fingers seemed to grip even tighter onto his skull. His head threw itself back as a scream of what seemed to be pain rung out through the chamber. The king's crown clattered on the floor at the action, an almost symbolic representation that this fight was nearing it's end. His gaze fixed on Eragon's, sweat running down his brow as his body shook from the impact of whatever it was the boy had done.
"W-W...What have you DONE?" he yelled, trying to reach for his sword until another wave of the imagined pain seemed to course through his veins. So much pain, so much worry, so much misery...Galbatorix could only guess where it had come from, much like the Rider who had seemed to bring him down without even an utterance of a word. A power that should've have belonged to him by just saying ONE of them out loud. Eragon's mind seemed to race at what he should do with such a distraction, undecided in whether to ponder what he'd done or act upon it. He decided on the latter as he saw Galbatorix reach for his sword in a desperate attempt to fight back. Eragon surged forwards, yelling outloud with a thrust of Brisingr's sapphire blade. The sword hit it's mark, right in the tyrant's neck.
Splatters of crimson and a sickening gargling echoed in the chamber as Brisingr sliced into the flesh as if it were no stronger than a liquid. Galbatorix's face turned from it's former expression of arrogance and smug nature to one of shock, hands loosening from his head as his screams of pain died down into a nauseating attempt to gain breath. Eragon felt nauseous, gut twisting on itself as he could feel the hot breath of the king escaping through the hole in his neck, running over his blade to brush over his hand's like the exhale of Death himself. He swallowed his disgust, pushing harder on Brisingr until it slipped further along all the way to the hilt. Galbatorix's eyes widened again, hands weakening their attempts to grab onto the sword as his vision began to grow red. Droplets of blood spilled over his lips as he choked on metal, orbs of vision finally beginning to flutter shut and roll in the back of his head. Even through his last breaths, the King was still trying to speak, an arm outstretched weakly.
"B…B-Be…"

With a grunt to cease the noise, the young Rider suddenly pulled away, pushing Galbatorix's body with his foot until Brisingr came free with a skin-crawling shlick. The king flopped backwards, lifeless like the corpse he had apparently started to become as his blood spattered onto the chamber floor. An occasional twitch of his muscle showed for a moment until all grew still. Eragon panted harshly, Brisingr's blade more in comparison to Zaroc in colour now. Murtagh stood beside him, not being able to believe what had happened and equally harsh exhales escaped his mouth from this long and harsh battle. Bloodied and bruised as they were, it seemed that it had come to an end.

Galbatorix was dead.

Although, that was not how things ended with Shruikan.