Summary: Trapped in his personal hell, Murtagh lives each day with regret. When Nasuada is captured by Galbatorix, Murtagh's life takes a turn that could very well change Alagasesia...MurtaghxNasuada

Disclaimer: I don't own Eragon the series, but I wish I owned Murtagh (evil smile)

Rating: T for angst

Song on Repeat: Bring Me Back To Life by Evanesence

I'm baaaack! Okay, so I wrote this ages and ages and ages and ages and ages and ages ago. But with the news of the 3rd and 4th book of Inheritance coming out, I decided to get my butt back in gear and write, write, WRITE! So I'm thinking about posting a chapter every week. But noly if you R&R!!!!


Wind whipped his face. The night air was cool and refreshing, but the young rider had much on his mind. The rider couldn't've been more then nineteen. His skin was like snow, yet everything else about him was black. Black bangs fell into his deep onyx orbs as he stared out from his perch at Alagasesia. The orbs, which had once held great mirth and shine, were dead. His pale lips, which had once laughed easily, talked much, and had been free and adventurous, were silent. His name was Murtagh, son of the Forsworn Morzan, a corrupted evil man who had betrayed his fellow riders

Murtagh had lived to hate his Father, hate his kingdom, hate his king. That's why he'd left the palace, his childhood and nightmares, and search for the last Dragon Rider by following the Ra'zac, hoping to aid him.

Never in his life did he dream to be back in his nightmare, only a few short months after finding the Dragon Rider and helping, helping his brother. He wished to escape, but the king, Galbatorix, had learned the only thing that could ever, ever keep free spirited Murtagh locked in this hell.

His true name in the Ancient Tongue. With such knowledge, he could control Murtagh, and he himself could do nothing about it.

'Troubled Murtagh?' Asked Murtagh's last friend, someone who was also held under Galbatorix's spell. Murtagh's flaming red Dragon. Thorn. His brother, Eragon, had Thorn's older sister, Saphira, a majestic blue Dragon fighting for the side that Murtagh so longed to be on.

'Not at all.' He responded gruffly to Thorn, leaning slightly as Thorn flew into a curve, the moon reflecting his powerful wings.

'You can't fool me Murtagh. What troubles you also troubles me.'

'It's that I-I have no wish to fight Eragon again.' Murtaghs hand tightened on his Father's sword, Eragons' sword, his sword, Zar'roc.

'You have no choice to, you know that.'

'And you? You wish to fight Saphira again, is that it?'

'I have no will to do so.'

'And yet when fighting her, you fought with such malice, I was sure she'd die! Is it truly Galbatorix's hold that made you fight her, but sibling rivalry?'

Thorn gave a sharp turn in the night air, and if Murtagh's legs hadn't been strapped into the grand saddle, he would've fallen to his death.

'Don't forget, young one, that you are riding upon my back, and I could throw you off whenever I please. Saddle or not.'

'Then what is your answer?'

'Saphira is family, I have no grudge against family, only the grudge the King gave me.'

Gruffly, Murtagh added; 'Family you've never met.'

Thorn turned his blazing ruby eyes onto his rider. 'Family all the same.'

Murtagh shivered on his perch. By looking at the full moon, he could tell it was well past midnight.

'Let's go back Thorn.'

'Tired already?'

'I have too much on my mind tonight to fly.'

Thorn let out a sigh which covered the sky in a reeking smoke. 'As you wish.'

They flew back to the palace, a great terrible stone fortress standing on a high mountain, overlooking Alagasesia. Thorn circled it, before flying into the top of the dragons hold, the ceiling was never closed. Murtagh unbuckled his legs from the saddle and slid off shakily.

Thorn shook his head side to side, smiling in a way that only Murtagh could see.

'After all of this time flying and training, you still shake as you get off?'

Murtagh scowled. 'Yeah? Well, you're no great Elf dancer yourself.'

Murtagh walked to the oaken doors that led to his room. After being imprisoned here, he had refused to be parted to far from his Dragon. Thorn protected him, and Murtagh protected Thorn. Neither wished to here. They were all each other had now.

'Goodnight Thorn.'

'Goodnight Murtagh.'

Murtagh shut the oaken doors in his majestic room. Everything about it was dark, as was his attitude. His attitude had always been dark. It wasn't his fault, he blamed his past. A painting was hung on the wall opposite his large bed. Murtagh loathed and despised it with very ounce of hate in his body. It was a portrait of his family. His Father, an evil look prominent in his eyes with an arm around Selena, his mother. He himself was held in Selena's arms. Her hair was as dark as his, but her eyes belonged to Eragon.

'Did you love him more then me, Mother?' He thought sullenly. 'Is that why you left?' He turned away from the picture and tore off his sword belt and flung it carelessly to the ground. He didn't care. His ripped his tunic off and threw it haphazardly next to his sword.

As he walked over to his bed, he noticed the reflection of the mirror in his window. He turned his head and looked at the mirror. On his pale, muscled back was a long, dark knotted scar stretching from his right shoulder to his left hip. The only thing he had come to remember his father by was this scar on his back, where the sword Murtagh now carried had laid his back open. His own father's doings.

Murtagh sighed and ran a hand over his face. He climbed into his bed, and fell asleep instantly.

That night, Murtagh had a very strange dream. He was in the Burning Plains in Surda. He was watching a group of dwarves and humans alike travel along the coast.

The Varden…………But where was-? Oh, there he was. Flying low over them, watching carefully. Eragon and Saphira.

Eragon's eyes were trained not on the Varden, but on a woman towards the front of the group. She held herself with inhuman like poise, black hair rippling down her back. Murtagh did not need to see her face to know it was the Elf princess, Arya. Eragon fancied her.

Murtagh felt an odd sensation sweep through him as he saw who the Elf was talking to. A woman around his own age. The Varden's leader, Nasuada.

Nasuada turned to talk to a young girl in front of her. Murtagh was surprised to see that the girl had, upon her forehead, a gedwëy ignasia. She looked no more then four, yet her expression was so eeriely serious, that she could've been an adult. Her skin looked milky blue, and her eyes were large and lavender.

What was Nasuada talking to her about? The world around Murtagh was not sliented, no. He could hear, but there was so much conversation around him, he could not tell which was from Nasuada.

"Murtagh-"

Murtagh gasped as he heard his name. Nasuada had said his name, he was sure of it. He looked at her, and her dark eyes trained onto his for one heart stopping moment.

Then it was over.

A scream was heard over the roar of voices. Murtagh spun around to see an army of Kull raseing towards the Varden.

"Run! Run for safety!" That was Eragon. Murtagh could depict his voice over the screams of the Varden women.

Murtagh watched as Kull raced forward, cutting down those who opposed the. Eragon and Saphira fought well, as one.

Murtagh's eyes trained upon the female fighters; Ayra, the young girl, and Nasuada. The young girl, coincidently, seemed to be doing most of the fighting, even though the two Ladies seemd to be holding back upon their own.

Nodoby seemed to see one Kull in particular raceing towards Nasuada and Arya. There was a scream and a splatter of blood. The four year old girl had rushed in front of Nasuada and had been stabbed through the stomach.

"ELVA!"

Murtagh awoke with a start. He sat up quickly and put a hand to his forehead. He was hot, and bathed in a cold sweat.

'What have I just seen?'

'Something troubles you Murtagh?'

'N-nothing. Go back to sleep.'

The light streaming in from the window was dark grey. It was not morning yet. He probably had only fallen asleep a mere hour ago. But, that didn't explain his dream. Why had he dreamed of Nasuada?

It was only in the darkest corner of his mind did Murtagh keep his thoughts about her, locked up. In the gathering darkness and quiet of the night, in his bleakest hours, those were the only times he let the key open the paddlock and let the thoughts of her escape.

And now she was in trouble?

'No, no. It was just a stupid dream.'

'Murtagh? Are you sure your not troubled?'

'Get out of my mind!' Murtagh burst angrily. He closed his mind up from Thorn. Strangely furious, he rolled over and fell back asleep.


Angst! Angst! So what did you think? No wait, JUST REVIEW ALREADY!! Next part will be out next Saturday