Hello, and thank you for all the reviews!! I really appreciate them all... =)))

please review this chapter and temme what you think... i'm sorry if im taking long to update but i have my exams right now so im verry busy...

and yes, if you haven't noticed Eragon is gay, with his half brother. if that distrubs you, I am very sorry. but then you shouldnt read this chapter or this fic...

Chance - you said you didn't like smug Murtagh right... well maybe you'll like this Murtagh better =) thanks for your review, it was really encouraging, and I hope you like the different side of Murtagh which you'll see hear

if any one has any suggestions/request im open to them. thanks =D

----------

Eragon slid off Saphira rather ungracefully as she landed in a clearing amidst the dark trees. They were in Du Weldenvarden, though it was a part of the forest Eragon had never seen. The trees had gnarled trunks and convoluted branches which formed a green canopy over most of the forest, allowing only a few scattered rays of sunlight to penetrate inside, giving the forest and ethereal green glow. There were no flowers, only vines, curling their leafy tendrils around the woody branches. This forest was darker, and murkier than that near Ellesmera, and emanated an aura of secrecy and intimacy.

Is this where you and Thorn first-

Yes.

Eragon's eyes followed Murtagh, as he dismounted Thorn who landed behind Saphira with a reverberating thud. Murtagh nodded at Eragon and then walked towards the dense trees. Saphira and Thorn looked expectantly at Eragon.

"What?" Eragon asked out loud finally, after Saphira continued to stare at him rather balefully. Thorn's vermillion eyes narrowed in annoyance.

Murtagh's voice floated out from behind the trees. "Come on, they want us to leave them alone, can't you tell!" Eragon went red, and then quickly followed Murtagh. When he tried to contact Saphira he was met by a solid wall; she had sealed off her mind. Eragon was slightly relieved at this. He didn't want his conversations with Murtagh to be interrupted by disturbing mental images.

Eragon and Murtagh walked together in silence for a few moments, neither daring to look at the other. Then suddenly-

"I'm sorry."

Eragon jerked his head up, shocked. Of all the things he had expected Murtagh to say, this was certainly not one of them.

"What?!"

Murtagh looked a bit unsure of himself, as he bit his lip and fidgeted with Zar'roc's pummel - something which surprised Eragon even more as he had always seen Murtagh as confident, if not cocky.

"I – I said I'm sorry Eragon."

Eragon's heart leapt in his chest at the sound of Murtagh saying his name. His voice was soft, low, and the sound of it aroused a rather visceral reaction in Eragon. Not to mention, if Murtagh didn't stop biting his lip, Eragon knew he would do something incredibly idiotic.

"Why?" Eragon finally manage to say, locking his chocolate brown eyes with Murtagh's grey ones. He stared into his brother's eyes, and saw regret – and something else he could not quite understand.

"For betraying you… and the Varden."

Eragon sighed. "You didn't really. It was the twins. You would not have done it of your own free will and you've told me that before…" he trailed off, still unable to digest the fact that Murtagh was apologizing. Murtagh had always been nearly as stubborn as Eragon himself… he had always claimed that he was forced into serving Galbatorix… but now he was apologizing, apologizing for something he hadn't even done!

There was a long pause as the brothers stared at each other. There were so many unspoken things in that stare; apologies, questions, confusion. Finally Murtagh said, "We need to talk."

Eragon nodded but at that moment a loud roar made them both jump. Murtagh looked rather amused, though slightly disgusted as well; Eragon had an identical expression on his face and they both hurried forward.

"Best go someplace we can't hear their little games," said Eragon, and Murtagh nodded his head vigorously.

"I'm happy for them and all, but sometimes when I'm connected to Thorn I get all these horrible images of – well you know…"

Eragon laughed. "Yeah, me too. Saphira and I have to close our minds to each other more often than usual, like right now. She's rather secretive about it at times, and I'd rather not know the details so it's good."

Murtagh scowled. "Lucky, she's a female. Girls are like that. I wish Thorn was, but no, he likes to show off! I don't know why, it's like to prove his masculinity or something but he gives me all these bits of information which I would rather not know! It's sickening!" He stopped finally, at the base of a large tree. "We can sit here, if you want."

Eragon agreed and sat down next to Murtagh, stretching his legs out and crossing his arms. Murtagh was in a similar position, and though Eragon longed to get closer to him, he did not dare to. Their clothes were barely brushing, and from the corner of his eyes, Eragon could see Murtagh's handsome face, half-hidden by strands of dark hair.

"Listen Eragon, I really am sorry-"

"But you didn't-"

"Please let me finish. I have to say this." Murtagh turned a bit, his eyes dark, looking deep into Eragon's own. Eragon nodded, his heart beating quickly.

"I was forced to. I was bought before the king and tortured till every bone in my body screamed with agony, but I still withstood. I was imprisoned, tortured till the brink of death, barely alive. I often considered giving my life up, ending it; but I couldn't because there were so many things I wanted to do, to say."

At this point Eragon wondered what it was that Murtagh wanted, but held his tongue.

"You saw what Durza did to Arya, we both did. Well I tell you this; what Galbatorix did to me was twice as bad; he was such an expert at torture, both mental and physical. He penetrated my mind, with the help of his Eldunari of course… I was not strong enough to withstand such might. He found out everything, about the Varden about you. I swear, I never told him a word. I didn't have to, he already knew by the time I had enough energy to even open my mouth. Then he found out my true name, hatched Thorn for me and – well you knew what happened.

Everything that happened after was forced. I felt so horrible, so guilty, so angry while doing it all; but I didn't have a choice. It was probably worse than dying, the way I had to live. Still I had some hope that you'd prevail, that I'd be free.

I reveled in power at first I admit – but it was only because I was glad to have some control, some revenge on a world which had been so cruel to me. But that happiness barely lasted. I was happy at being able to overpower you as well, I admit. I thought it was unfair that you had a happy childhood, that you received love and a family, when I was nearly killed by my own father and was always alone. I though it unfair that you won glory with your dragon when I was despised, feared; that you were free to help those you wanted to and I was a slave forced to harm those I cared about."

Murtagh's eyes were glistening and his usually calm voice was thick with emotion, which stunned Eragon, who had to fight back an urge to throw his arms around Murtagh. He had seen Arya crying, which had been astonishing enough; but an emotional Murtagh was unsettling. Eragon had always thought Murtagh was indifferent and cool. He never realized that underneath the calm exterior was a boy who had suffered the worst kind of mental and physical torture ever. Murtagh had learned to suppress his turbulent feelings very well, Eragon realized.

"It was strange, that encounter on the Burning Plains. I envied you, I should have hated you-"

At this Eragon's stomach plummeted. Murtagh would never hate him would he?

"But I couldn't. You were my brother, my family, and once my friend. I couldn't hate you how much ever I tried. I would never harm you willingly, Eragon… or Saphira"

Eragon's mind was in a daze, and his head was spinning at Murtagh's words. Of course it didn't mean what he was imagining, Murtagh hadn't said what Eragon hoped he would – but of course that was ridiculous. Still, after his speech, hundreds of new feelings for Murtagh welled up in Eragon. He felt guilty at Murtagh's pain, when compared to his own life. He wished Murtagh had known some more happiness. He felt angry, furious with Galbatorix, and Morzan and all those who had hurt Murtagh. He felt sorry for Murtagh, who had never known any love his whole life… except…

I love you, Murtagh, thought Eragon. You don't know it, but I do, though I don't think I shall tell you this.

"I'm sorry too" said Eragon finally, "that I could not save you, or do something, anything. I never hated you either Murtagh. I tried so hard but I couldn't."

Murtagh smiled at him. It was a small smile, but for the first time devoid of any madness or evilness or smugness and Eragon's heart leapt (again) as he returned it.

"Well since that's done… I guess I'd rather not talk about it anymore, if you don't mind" Murtagh said softly, and Eragon nodded, still slightly dazed. Then he suddenly remembered something, and reached into his bag, feeling around until his hand closed upon something hard and smooth. He pulled it out, and handed it to Murtagh.

It was Selena's fairth.

"I want you to have this. Brom gave it to me, but I – I think you should keep it."

Murtagh was silent, staring at the rectangular tablet in his lap. He raised his hand, and ran his pale fingers over Selena's smiling face, preserved in the rock.

"Thank you Eragon." he said finally, his voice choked. "This means – a lot to me. Thank you."

Eragon said nothing, wrapping his arms around his knees to prevent himself jumping on Murtagh. For some strange reason, the sight of a vulnerable, emotional Murtagh on the verge of tears had got him strangely but totally excited. Eragon diverted his eyes from Murtagh's hand which was caressing his mothers face, almost longingly, as if he wished she were real and could meet her again. It was touching, but Eragon felt emotions which were completely wrong and should not have been associated with such an innocent, platonic gesture. He imagined Murtagh's hands caressing –

"How did you manage to get that new sword?" Murtagh's question startled Eragon out of his salacious thoughts. Murtagh's voice had returned to friendly and conversational quite soon, and no trace of the previous emotion lingered. Still, Eragon was quite happy to be able to carry out a normal conversation with Murtagh.

"This old elf lady forged it for me…"

"What's it called?"

"Well I shouldn't really say the name because it will burst into flames, but it's the ancient language word for fire."

"It bursts into flames every time you say that word?"

"Yes! It was rather surprising at first, but now I'm used to it. I just have to be careful, that's all."

"Brisingr…" Murtagh murmured, staring at the gleaming pommel. Suddenly, the bright blue blade and it's sheath burst into sizzling flames. Eragon yelled and jumped up, dropping his sword, though the flames subsided in a few seconds, leaving both blade and sheath unscathed. Eragon's tunic was however badly singed, and his hand, which had been resting on the sheath was burnt, exposing the flesh underneath. It was extremely painful, but at that moment Eragon was too startled to care.

"You - how – what – how did you just do that?!" Eragon exclaimed, as Murtagh scrambled up as well.

"I don't know! I thought you said it happens only when you say the name!" Murtagh shot back, though his voice contained an apologetic note to it.

"It does! Its never done that for anyone else before!" Eragon cried. He felt annoyed at his sword and rather insulted. It was supposed to work its magic only for him. Why would it do that for Murtagh, too? This was one thing he had and Murtagh didn't.

"Maybe because we're related" Murtagh said thoughtfully, as Eragon glared at Brisingr. Suddenly, Murtagh seemed to become aware of Eragon's burnt hand.

"Eragon – I'm so sorry – your hand…" he said.

"Oh, right." Eragon said stupidly, still fuming. Though now that he noticed it, his hand was throbbing agonizingly.

"It's burnt – do you want me to heal it?" Murtagh's suggested tentatively. Though the prospect of Murtagh healing him (which would involve Murtagh holding his hand) excited Eragon, he narrowed his eyes.

"I am strong enough too, you know." Eragon said, though immediately regretted his words. He sounded like a whining child.

"I know that," Murtagh replied smiling almost indulgently. "But since it's my fault I thought I should offer. And you may find that difficult since it's your magic-wielding hand you've burnt. But since you are, obviously capable, then please proceed" he finished slickly, his voice now teasing.

Eragon's face reddened. He hadn't noticed that. "Fine then, can you please heal my hand" he asked Murtagh, who acquiesced.

Eragon's heart skipped a beat as Murtagh gently held Eragon's hand between his own, their fingers entwined. Murtagh murmured something, and his palm glowed. Eragon felt something warm spread through his body, which he knew had nothing to do with his magic. A few moments later, the pain had stopped, and Eragon was healed.

Eragon stared into Murtagh's warm grey eyes, which were searching into his own. Murtagh's dark hair framed his handsome face, and Eragon's eyes shifted downwards from the perfectly sculpted nose to the pale, pink lips. Murtagh slowly let go of Eragon's hand, and Eragon bit back a groan as Murtagh's calloused fingers brushed over his wrist. Eragon stammered a thanks, as Murtagh settled back across the tree trunk. His brows were furrowed however, and he seemed to be in deep thought.

Suddenly Murtagh jumped up, his eyes bright, a wild, happy expression crossing his face. "I just – I just – it worked! It actually worked!" he exclaimed, delighted. His voice sounded happier than Eragon had ever seen it.

"Wh-what?" Eragon asked confused, still giddy from their previous encounter.

Murtagh ignored him however and shot out a bolt of red magic at a nearby tree, whose green leaves immediately changed color to gold. Murtagh then proceeded to say random words in the ancient language, and watch the effects of his magic, looking ecstatic. "My magic is my own." Eragon heard him say.

"Murtagh, what on earth are you doing?!" Eragon asked, bemused by his brother's eccentric behaviour.

Murtagh laughed, a joyful, happy sound which Eragon felt glad to hear.

"I'm free, Eragon!" he shouted. "I'm free!" He sounded so happy and carefree, and Eragon smiled, though the weight of Murtagh's words crashed down upon him.

"What exactly do you mean by that, and how do you know?!" asked Eragon, trying to suppress the heightening excitement he was feeling. If Murtagh really was free then…there were so many possibilities… they could win, they could defeat Galbatorix, they wouldn't have to fight, they could be together…

Murtagh continued laughing, almost like a madman, though his laughter now contained no maniacal ring to it like it had before, when they had fought. "It changed! My name changed! It worked, what you said, Eragon! My name changed and I'm free!"

Eragon could not respond as at that moment the sound of trees being ripped from the ground filled the air, and Thorn's spiky red head pushed through the gap made, a tree dangling from his mouth. His vermillion eyes were gleaming, and Saphira soon pushed her sapphire head through the trunks as well.

It changed didn't it! Thorn's thoughts were loud enough for even Eragon to hear.

"Yes it did!" Murtagh said happily, and he rushed towards Thorn, throwing his arms around the ruby dragon's neck. Eragon felt a tinge of jealousy, but grinned.

How do you know, and how are you so sure? Saphira's thoughts echoed Eragon's previous question, and Murtagh answered breathlessly.

"Well you know, you and Eragon said that we could change our names if we changed our personalities, right. Well Thorn's actually did the night you and him – you know. Before he was just a dragon. Then he became much more; he became the father to a whole new race of dragons – and it changed is name.

Galbatorix however, didn't realize, because he was too engrossed in his other task, which I shall tell you about later. Or if he realized, he didn't care. I suppose it's the first though – anyways, Thorn kept up the deception of being Galbatorix's slave, for me, because I still was you see.

But then when we came here today, we found a loophole in his orders. He'd told us to capture you, but really, it was only me who actually had to obey. But he never told us how you had to be captured, so I could always pretend that we'd chased you into a forest to capture you but then you'd escaped…

And then in the forest, when I apologized to you, Eragon, I felt this tingle run through my body. It was strange, and suddenly I felt free and light-hearted, like some dark shadow had been lifted from my heart. I never really realized what it was at the time. When I said the name of your sword, I didn't feel anything different, I suppose because I hadn't meant to use magic then – or even if I felt something I was too shocked to really register it. But then when I healed you, my magic felt somehow different.

Usually, when I perform magic, it always causes this weird, tugging feeling on my mind, because my magic is connected to Galbatorix's – but today when I did, I felt nothing of the sort, because my magic was my own…that's when I realized, that I was free. The tingle I felt when I apologized, was because my name changed at that time. My name changed because before I had never really accepted anything, or apologized. I'd been too arrogant and I myself was denying my own fate. But that simple action of admitting it, of apologizing changed my name so slightly – but it changed it nevertheless, and that alone was enough to release me from Galbatorix's grasp and now I'm free, at last! And now Thorn we're both truly free!"

Murtagh hugged his ruby dragon tighter, and Thorn squeezed his large eyes shut, sudden flames spurting out of his mouth. Murtagh then jumped on him, and Thorn took off, his claws gouging into the ground. He shot upwards, and then spread his large wings and roared joyously, spurting out more flames. The roar was joyful and triumphant, intermingled with Murtagh's ecstatic cry. Eragon and Saphira watched them in delight, as they circled the top of the forest, Thorn roaring and spewing fire at intervals.

Saphira reconnected her mind to Eragon's her excitement and euphoria flooding into his brain, adding to his own.

They did it. Finally.