Disclaimer: I don't own Eragon or anything associated with the Inheritance Cycle.
Claimer: I, SussieKitten, own this plot and the story. Borrow or steal my plot, my original characters (Aksel) or story and I will report you. I also own my version of Saphira/Thorn's human appearances, as well as Tornac's characterisation.
Warnings: Male and female homosexuality. Heterosexuality. Swearing or strong language. Mentioned Character Death – Genuine (Paolini's) Character. Mentioned Rape/Underage Violation (Rape). If any of this disturbs you, click on the "back" button. I won't tolerate any flames.
A/N A huge thanks to everyone who reviewed and reads this story. It means a lot to know that you guys like it, especially since it's so...well, let's just call it different, shall we?
Some people have been asking questions about Shruikan. Your questions will be answered here, my lovelies.
Also beware of a new "character" in this chapter. You'll understand what I mean soon enough.
POISON
Part Ten; Strychnine
Murtagh stared at Eragon. What the hell was he doing there?
When he couldn't come up with any possible answer, he voiced his thoughts out loud. "Why are you here?"
Eragon swallowed and looked away. "I-I don't..." he trailed off.
Murtagh leaned against the door frame. Eragon truly looked uncomfortable. It was hard to believe he had gone of his own free will, let alone gone at all.
"...Saphira made me."
Now that Murtagh believed.
"She's..." Eragon cleared his throat awkwardly. "She's watching me right now. She told me she'd wait for me until I finished talking to you."
"...She's diabolical."
"She's pregnant," Eragon muttered.
"Same thing."
Eragon looked up at him. He looked stunned.
Murtagh was stunned himself. Had he just cracked a joke?
Eragon bit his lip and looked away, but there was a slight smiled on his lips.
"...I guess you better come in, then." Murtagh held the door more open.
Eragon looked shocked for a few seconds, then he looked down again and slipped past him. Murtagh closed the door, but not before catching sight of an obviously pregnant female hiding by the stairway.
Murtagh ran a hand through his hair and turned around.
Eragon was leaning against the wall beside Murtagh's jackets. He looked suitably uncomfortable. It didn't look like he planned on staying long. He hadn't even taken off his shoes.
Murtagh walked past him and back into the living room. Eragon didn't follow him.
Murtagh sat on his couch for a couple of minutes before he started to wonder whether Eragon had actually left.
"Are you going to stay in there all day?" Murtagh called out.
There was a pause, then some light shuffling. Eragon padded inside a few seconds later sans jacket and boots. He was wringing his scarf between his hands.
"You can sit," he said when a minute passed and Eragon failed to make a move to do anything except wring his scarf even more.
Eragon paused, then slowly made his way towards the couch. He sat down equally slowly. There was a good distance between them.
"Why did Saphira make you come here?"
The brunet bit his lip again. He didn't talk for at least two minutes. "Ever since...Ever since that session, I...I – there are – I can't," Eragon bit his lip again and stared hard at his hands.
Murtagh had a feeling he knew what Eragon was trying to say. He wasn't so sure he liked it.
"You have questions." Murtagh was proud of himself for sounding vaguely casual.
Eragon looked at him guiltily. He nodded. "I didn't want to have them, I know I shouldn't have them, but...I can't help it."
"You're curious. I've learned that much," Murtagh said plainly.
Eragon blushed.
Murtagh looked down at his hands. He really didn't want to tell Eragon anything. He still felt bad about talking in the first place. If he said anything more, he might give the kid nightmares. It was enough that Murtagh had them.
But he knew he owed the kid some answers.
"...You can ask me some questions, but I won't answer any I feel uncomfortable with."
He could feel Eragon's stare, but he didn't meet the other's gaze.
"You really don't have to," Eragon whispered.
Murtagh snuck a look. Eragon was worrying his bottom lip again.
"I owe you a few answers, and I'll give you such."
Eragon stopped wringing his scarf with his hands and started pulling at his sleeves. It was another couple of minutes before he spoke.
"You said..." he trailed off and gulped. "You said you killed..." his voice died away.
"It's true," Murtagh said softly. "I killed my father. That is why I was in prison."
Eragon looked really pale now. He tugged hard at his right sleeve. "You said it was because he abused you," he whispered.
"That's not exactly true," Murtagh answered.
Eragon looked up sharply.
"It's true that he had been abusing me for years, but I didn't kill him because of that." Murtagh felt his hands grip each other tightly. His knuckles were turning white. "That night..." he cleared his throat. "The night it happened, I had just told him I was going away for college. He didn't like that. He came at me with a knife, screaming that I wasn't going to leave him unless it was in a pine box. It was pure luck that it was him that ended up in a box and not me. It was self-defence."
Eragon was silent for a long time. Murtagh used this time to evaluate what he had said.
Everything was true, but it felt weird to admit it. It had been self-defence. Admitting it didn't make him feel any different. It was just another fact about his fucked up life.
"Then why did you go to jail?" the brunet whispered.
"It was a trying time for me. I didn't think anyone would believe me if I said my father threatened to kill me and I turned the knife on him." Murtagh rubbed his right thumb over his left. He rubbed it hard enough to hurt.
"...That's bullshit," Eragon said sharply.
Murtagh crocked an eyebrow at him.
Eragon blushed. "You went to prison for something that wasn't your fault. That's stupid."
Murtagh just shrugged.
Eragon fell silent again. Murtagh stared at the clock and watched the seconds slowly pass by.
Eragon said something then, but it was too inaudible. Murtagh looked at him again. Eragon's face was ashen once again.
"Can you repeat that?"
Eragon swallowed harshly. "...Did he really rape you?"
Murtagh gave a single nod.
Eragon's pale face turned green. "Oh God," he breathed.
Murtagh looked down.
"Then the other is true too?" Eragon said, a bit more loudly this time. "Some other guy raped you too?"
Murtagh apparently had forgotten to mention that it had been Morzan's entire posse, not just two men. That was probably best. He gave another nod.
Eragon looked ready to puke.
"And he really has visited you?"
Murtagh felt his heart start to beat faster just from thinking about it. His hands started to sweat.
"Yes. But I don't want to talk about it."
Eragon fell silent again.
Murtagh rubbed his thumb over his knuckles. His eyes were fixed on the repeated movement.
"Please tell me someone knows," Eragon said so suddenly that Murtagh actually jolted a bit.
Murtagh looked at him. Eragon still looked a little green, but there was something in his eyes. Murtagh couldn't interpret what it was.
"...Thorn knows."
Eragon's mouth tightened. "Thorn seems to know a lot of things," he said and shifted. "I'm starting to wonder if that's just a line you're giving me."
Murtagh felt something start to build up in his chest. "I'm not lying."
"Then why isn't Thorn a permanent resident on your couch?" Eragon said and shook his head. "I don't think he knows -"
"What?" Murtagh barked. Eragon jolted and looked at him with a hint of fear in his eyes. "What is it you think he doesn't know? Enough? Oh, believe me, he knows enough," he spat. "He knows how my old man used to pass me around like some whore when I was only fifteen years old!"
His scream was followed by silence.
Murtagh took a few deep breaths. "He knows about King. He was there when King came to see me."
"...You told him it was nothing, didn't you?" Eragon said like it all suddenly made sense.
"He knows it's not nothing, so if I did, he wouldn't have believed me."
"Then why are you here all alone, looking half-scared to death?"
Murtagh didn't answer.
Eragon pressed on. "It's that thing again, isn't it? You don't want to be burden."
"Eragon," Murtagh said firmly. "Drop it."
"No." Eragon looked committed now. Murtagh started to wonder if he had made a mistake when he apologised to Eragon. Everything seemed better than having a determined Eragon on his case.
When he opened his mouth to speak again, Murtagh cut him off. "I don't want to talk about this. Please."
Eragon looked away. He closed his eyes and let out a breath. He opened them again and looked back. "You're stupid, you know."
"I know."
Eragon just shook his head and got up. "You're not supposed to agree."
Murtagh just shrugged.
Eragon tugged on his scarf. "...I don't want to worry about you, Murtagh."
He could only blink. What was that supposed to mean? And why did hearing it hurt?
"But I do," the brunet continued. "I hardly know you, and I worry so fucking much."
Murtagh blinked again. That was the first time he had heard Eragon swear. He seemed like the type that didn't swear often.
"There's just something about you." Eragon bit his lip and looked away. "...Be careful, alright?"
Murtagh was stunned. He could only watch Eragon walk away. He heard him put on his shoes and his coat. The door gave a soft squeak as it shut.
Then there was only silence.
-:-
Christmas carols were playing softly in the bar. Murtagh tried his best to ignore them as he uncapped the twentieth holiday beer of the day. He handed the glass over to the customer and put the bottle with the others for recycling.
It was the day before Christmas Eve and Murtagh still hadn't given his answer to Thorn and Saphira. A part of him desperately didn't want to go, even though he had sort of fixed things with Eragon. Murtagh did not do well in crowds. It didn't matter that he knew the people around him; it still felt like he was suffocating.
But another part of him didn't want to disappoint them. He knew they wanted him there.
The door was opened and a gush of chilled winter air slipped inside before it could be closed. Murtagh looked up out of habit. He always looked over to see who entered now. His panicked mind forced him.
Murtagh was surprised when he recognised the man standing in the doorway. It was Shruikan and he was alone.
Shruikan looked over and met his gaze. Murtagh watched him walk over.
"We need to talk."
Murtagh blinked. They hadn't really talked, not even at the wedding. Shruikan reminded Murtagh of himself; closed off and somewhat antisocial. He had to wonder why Shruikan suddenly wanted to talk.
"...My shift ends in ten minutes. Can you wait?"
Shruikan nodded. He found a booth and sat down.
Murtagh looked over frequently as his shift slowly came to a close. He nodded to Orrin when he came to take over. He only took off his apron and went to get his things.
"You're not leaving?" Orrin remarked when he walked back into the bar instead of walking out back like he usually did.
"Maybe," Murtagh said and headed over to Shruikan. He had no idea if Shruikan wanted to talk here or somewhere else.
Shruikan stood. "Let's take a walk."
Murtagh crocked an eyebrow. Shruikan didn't want them to be overheard?
The other man walked out first. Murtagh put on his jacket and zipped it up before stepping out into the December air. The wind wasn't biting as it had been earlier. Murtagh looped his scarf around his neck and stuffed his hands quickly into his pockets. He still couldn't wear gloves.
Shruikan started to head deeper into the city. Murtagh walked beside him.
Next to Shruikan, Murtagh had to admit that he felt a little like a dwarf. He had gotten used to the height difference between him and Thorn, but Shruikan was even taller than Thorn.
Five minutes passed without Shruikan saying a word. Murtagh wondered if Shruikan planned to talk at all during the walk or if he was being lead somewhere where they could talk.
"You know the senator," Shruikan said so suddenly that Murtagh jolted a bit.
It took a minute for the words to register in Murtagh's mind. He stiffened when they did. His mouth dried up. It became hard to swallow. "So?"
"You know him like I know him." Shruikan looked at him. His face was void of emotion, though there was a slight glimmer in his eyes that Murtagh recognised. It was the same one Tornac got whenever Galbatorix or Morzan came up.
Murtagh registered the shock next. He wasn't the only one?
"There have been others before and after me," Shruikan continued. "I only know the identity of four others, but I know there are more out there."
There were others? How many lives had Galbatorix helped wreck?
"One moved to Surda to get away." His gaze was fixed on something in the distance, though Murtagh didn't know what that was. "A sibling pair moved across the seas. One took his own life."
Murtagh felt nausea start to pool up in his chest.
"They were all young when it happened." Shruikan looked at him briefly. "I was thirteen, but one of them was eleven when it began."
The bile rose up and made Murtagh want to puke. His tongue felt thick and heavy.
"I ran off when I finished high school. I never heard from my foster parents or him again."
Shruikan took a right and led them into the park. There were a couple of kids running around near the frozen lake. A couple of others were building a fort. Shruikan steered clear of them and walked down one of the frozen paths.
"We all had something in common," the older man continued after a few minutes of silence. His voice was devoid of any emotion, though it seemed tighter now. "We were all certain he would come after us. The one who killed himself...he only ran away because he was certain they would continue to torture him if he died near them."
Murtagh stopped next to a bench and gripped the back of it. His hands stung from the cold and the frozen wood, but he ignored it.
There were others. It made so much sense that Murtagh was ashamed of himself for not having thought of it before. He wasn't special. He had just been the flavour of the month.
"I haven't heard of him actually going after someone. Then you came along."
Murtagh closed his eyes and tried not to gag. No. He wasn't special. He couldn't be special.
Shruikan stood beside him. Murtagh felt his presence, but he couldn't actually see him. He stared down at his pale and shaking hands.
"How do you know all this?" he whispered.
Murtagh saw Shruikan lean his back against the bench. He was only centimetres away from Murtagh's hands. He felt a desperate need to put more distance between them.
"I'm a doctor," Shruikan said then. "I took my exams here, but I did my practice in Dras Leona. I met them there. I was on duty when that kid was rushed into the hospital. He died in my arms."
The taste of bile was getting overwhelming. Murtagh swallowed what he could and spat the rest on the ground. It didn't help.
"Then aren't you breaking some sort of confidentiality?" Murtagh forced out. He'd rather talk about them than himself. He didn't want Shruikan to start asking any questions.
"They are all former patients of mine, and I'm not disclosing any names. I know the rules."
Murtagh couldn't stay here. He needed to get away.
When Shruikan didn't speak again, he pushed away from the bench and started to walk. Shruikan fell into step beside him.
"If you want to talk, I will listen."
He felt like laughing. It seemed like everyone said that to him. Murtagh was sick of talking. He didn't want to talk about this anymore.
"No thank you," Murtagh said softly. If he spoke louder, he was afraid of what he would sound like.
Shruikan grunted, but didn't verbally comment.
They walked in a circle around the park. The only sounds around them were made by someone else; the wind, laughing children, a scolding parent or cars driving nearby.
"How can you talk about it so easily?"
Murtagh wasn't aware of having spoken until Shruikan stopped and looked at him. Suddenly he realised that it had been him uttering those words.
"I have treated people, children and adults alike, that have been through similar ordeals. It helps to show them that the trauma doesn't have to be the end of life as they know it," he said sombrely. "Not everyone opens up to me in return, but a few have." He looked out towards the children playing. "It's never easy, but it can get easier. If it will help someone see that they can get through the pain, then I will gladly tell them about how I did it."
Murtagh looked away. The wind flew by and made his cheeks sting. He felt Shruikan's presence beside him.
"How are you coping?"
Murtagh closed his eyes. "I'm not."
-:-
It was a long time since he had last been inside a church. Murtagh supposed he could have been in one for a field trip back in school, but the only concrete memory he had of a church was his mother's funeral. He had only been three years old, but he still remembered it clearly.
His mother's coffin, the priest's soothing voice carrying through the room, soft sobbing from someone sitting behind him. Murtagh remembered his father sitting beside him, back stiff and tense, his hands clasped around the flyer with his mother's name on it.
He had been surprised when Shruikan had led him across the street and into the church Murtagh had gazed upon more than once. The interior was less than impressive, but it felt comfortable nonetheless. There were dark wooden benches, dark wood walls and a blue carpet over stone flooring. Somewhere there had to be heaters, because the room was noticeably warmer than the air outside.
Shruikan led him over to the benches and sat down. Murtagh sat down beside him. As he looked around, he saw that they appeared to be the only ones there.
There was a statue of Jesus in the front of the church. The priest's alcove was to the right. A bench separated the altar and the statue from the rest of the room.
"I'm not religious," Murtagh found himself saying.
Shruikan let out a soft sound. Murtagh was startled to realise that it had been a chuckle.
"I'm not particularly religious either. I believe that there was once a man named Jesus and that he preached the word of God. But if he truly was God's son in that holy sense or if he was just one of God's children like the rest of us, I don't know. If God exists, then so be it. For now I'm content to believe that whatever happens will happen for its own reasons."
Murtagh had to stare at him. Shruikan looked over with a quirked eyebrow.
"It does not mean I like the things I've been through or the things that happens in the world," he said calmly. "But I do believe that no one would be who they are today if they hadn't gone through what they have gone through."
Murtagh supposed he could see that, but even so.
"But I didn't bring you here to discuss religious beliefs." Shruikan looked up at the arched wooden ceiling. "Sometimes I find it easier to let things out when I'm in God's house, even if I'm not a fully-fledged Christian. There's something about the atmosphere that makes me relax and talk." He looked at Murtagh again. "Perhaps it will have the same effect on you."
He shook his head. "You don't understand. I have talked. It seems like all I've done so far is to talk about my problems. I can't go anywhere without someone asking if I'm alright, like they all know about the skeletons in my closet."
Shruikan nodded mutely.
"I talk to my shrink, to Tornac, to Thorn and if I had a pet, I'm sure I would have talked to that too. I'm sick of it." Murtagh looked down at his hands. They were clenched. He didn't know when that had happened. "Sometimes I wish they would understand that I don't want to talk."
"Then tell them that."
Murtagh sighed. "They don't believe me. Not after everything with King."
Shruikan chuckled again. "Glaedr was the same way when I told him. Every time I flinched or fell silent, he was sure that was the reason."
Murtagh looked up in shock. Glaedr knew?
Shruikan nodded to his unsaid question. "He's all-but my husband. I had to tell him. It's a vital part of who I am."
Murtagh couldn't imagine telling a lover that he had been abused as a child. Then again, he couldn't imagine himself having a lover, so that was hardly an issue.
"What about you?"
He blinked. "What about me?"
Shruikan tilted his head slightly. "Your partner. Does he or she know?"
Murtagh almost felt the need to smile. "I don't have one."
Shruikan fell silent.
"I suppose Thorn didn't tell you too much about me or why I'm here."
The other man only shook his head.
Murtagh felt something flare in his chest. Thorn had come through on his promise, it seemed. Not even Saphira seemed to know about his dark past.
"I didn't move for someone's sake," Murtagh said quietly. "I was released from prison a year ago. I moved here for my parole time. My lawyer thought it would be best to get away from home."
"You were in prison," Shruikan said. A statement, not a question. "Was it related to the senator?"
Yes. No. A little. It was impossible to find the right answer.
"I killed my father." The words seemed to flow easier off his tongue now than they had done in the beginning. Then again, he had confessed said fact to three other people before now. That certainly had something to do with it.
Shruikan fell silent again.
The old feeling rose up in his chest. Uncertainty, pain, anger.
"He was in league with King," Murtagh continued. "His death can be seen as tied to or unrelated to the senator. I killed him because he was trying to kill me."
"Then how can it be related?" Shruikan asked very carefully.
"It might be King's face that haunts me the most, but it was my father that started it all. King didn't come along until two years after my father started to -" he cut himself off. He couldn't say the words. Not here, not to Shruikan.
Shruikan gave a soft hum. "Then the prison sentence?"
"Was for my father's murder."
Shruikan crocked an eyebrow. Murtagh hadn't realise he was looking at the other until then. "They didn't rule it as self-defence?"
He simply shook his head. "I didn't tell them it had been."
Shruikan looked away. His face seemed to be naturally blank, but there was a slight tightness around his mouth that hadn't been there before.
"If you want to talk more, you can call me," he said and looked over again. "Sometimes it helps to talk to someone who has been through the same."
Murtagh looked away. The statue of Jesus almost seemed to glow.
"I'll keep it in mind."
-:-
He ended up not going to the Christmas party. After the talk with Shruikan, Murtagh simply wasn't ready to be around so many people when so many seemed to know his dirty secrets. He found a few movies and watched those instead.
Murtagh had almost forgotten about the Christmas presents when he suddenly had guests, plural, in his apartment. Thorn and Saphira had been the first to arrive. Saphira wasn't too big yet, but she was clearly pregnant.
Tornac came only a few minutes later. Like Thorn, he was carrying a plastic bag, but he was also carrying a cardboard box under his other arm. Murtagh was again reminded of the bag in his closet. He hadn't even taken them out of there.
The three of them were now seated on his couch. Murtagh was forced to pull out a chair from his kitchen area.
"We missed you last night," Tornac said once Murtagh was finally seated.
"You missed a lot," Saphira said and smiled. She was rubbing a hand over her stomach. It appeared to be an unconscious movement.
"Like Aksel getting drunk and loudly proclaiming himself as Vanir's bit- boyfriend," Thorn quickly corrected himself after a sharp look from Saphira.
Saphira nodded and let out a soft giggle. "He even kissed him under the mistletoe. I never thought I'd see the day Vanir would blush."
Murtagh tried to remember who Vanir was. It quickly hit him. His neighbour. Right.
"I suppose I'll have to ask him to keep it down for a change," Murtagh drawled.
There was a collective silence before Thorn started to laugh loudly. Saphira's giggles were nearly inaudible, but Murtagh could see her shoulder's shaking. Tornac just grinned amusedly.
"Anyway," Saphira brushed some hair behind her ear, "you also missed the gifts."
Thorn nodded. "So here we are."
Murtagh sighed. He felt guilty about not having at least stopped by to give them their presents. "I'll go find them."
"Don't get up on our account," Tornac said, already out of his seat. "Where are they?"
Murtagh blinked. "...In the closet."
Tornac nodded and disappeared into Murtagh's bedroom. Murtagh wanted to warn him about the additional gift for Thorn there, but he figured Tornac would understand the difference between the one gift addressed to couple and the one addressed just to Thorn.
Tornac came back a minute or so later. Murtagh breathed a quiet sigh of relief when he saw that Tornac hadn't brought Thorn's gift.
"You get to go first," Thorn told him smugly and all but shoved a gift into Murtagh's arms.
Murtagh looked down at the box. It was wrapped in a bright red paper with snowmen on it. He sighed and gently unwrapped it.
"...DVDs?" Murtagh asked. There were several of them stuffed into the box. He recognised maybe a title or two.
"You only have, what, ten? That's hardly enough entertainment, especially with this blasted winter we've been having," Thorn said and clasped his shoulder.
Saphira rolled her eyes. "Thorn insisted. I wanted to give you something nice and practical, but no," she scoffed. "Men."
Thorn grinned sheepishly.
"Fear not, my lady. I have the thing you requested," Tornac winked at her and pulled out another present.
Thorn stared at it, even as Murtagh started to unwrap it.
"What is it?" he asked.
Saphira shushed him.
Murtagh examined the box that was under the wrapping paper. He blinked. "A toaster?"
Saphira nodded.
"...That's it?" Thorn commented.
The look Saphira shot him told him to shut up, or else. Thorn wisely shut up.
"Thank you, Saphira," Murtagh said softly. If she wanted to give him a toaster, then fine. Common sense told him not to anger a pregnant woman.
Murtagh turned to Tornac. "You three are next."
Tornac sent him a knowing look. "If you insist."
Murtagh sat back and watched his friends open the gifts he had struggled to wrap semi-decently.
Tornac thanked him for the book and promised that it wasn't a terrible gift at all. He even added that he had looked at this illustrated version of the Hobbit before Christmas, but hadn't bought it. Murtagh was silently grateful for that. He had been worried.
Tornac had helped Murtagh with the gift for Thorn and Saphira. He had settled on kitchen utensils, ironically enough. The smiles on their faces told Murtagh that they appreciated the gift, if nothing else.
Murtagh wasn't used to buying other people presents. Tornac was the only one he had bought anything for since Thorn had disappeared from his life thirteen years ago.
"Alright then," Tornac stated and rubbed his hands together eagerly. "My turn."
Murtagh wasn't sure what kind of expression Tornac was wearing, but it made him slightly uneasy. It was a different kind of unease. He hadn't felt this kind before. He trusted Tornac with his life, but he just wasn't sure what Tornac was planning now.
The older man picked up the cardboard box and handed it over. Murtagh was surprised how heavy it was. He only then noticed the small holes on the sides of the box.
"Well? Go on," Tornac urged him.
Murtagh examined the box for the best way to open it. It had a sort of fold-in lid. He quickly found the way to open it and did so.
Two eyes stared up at him. Murtagh jumped back in shock.
Tornac chuckled.
"...You got me a cat?" Murtagh whispered.
The feline in the box mewed in answer.
"That's right." Tornac put his hands into the box and plucked out the feline.
It had a short, silky black coat and two grey strips behind its eyes that lead to its ears where it looked like the fur was thinner. Its tail was shorter than Murtagh had expected. Its left eye was blue while its right eye was green.
"I picked her up at the local shelter," Tornac explained and put the cat down on the couch. The feline instantly started to purr and wanted affection from Thorn. "I figured it was time I found you a bed-mate, even if was a pet."
Murtagh stared at the cat as Thorn petted her. She was purring gently.
"If you don't want her, I will happily take her myself."
Murtagh sighed. "I'm not sure if I know how -"
"To care for a feline? I thought as much," the older man said. "This is an American bobtail; a good cat for first-time pet owners. The shelter says she has an excellent temper, as you can see. She doesn't have any anxiety for being left alone, so you leaving the house to go to work won't be a problem. I think she would be quite perfect for you."
Murtagh wasn't quite sure what to think about all of this. He would never have guessed that Tornac would buy him a cat. Though, if the cat came from a shelter, he wasn't sure if Tornac had bought her.
"Why don't you come and say hello?"
Murtagh shifted. The feline's eyes were instantly on him. He froze.
The cat mewed and leaped up on the table. Before Murtagh could reprimand it, the cat had gone into his lap and lain down. She stretched out and started to purr.
"At least we know she likes you," Tornac chuckled.
Murtagh looked at the others.
Thorn looked a little stumped while his wife looked smitten. Clearly she thought the cat was adorable or something similar.
Murtagh looked down at the feline again. Her eyes were closed. He hesitantly reached out and put a hand on her back. The purring instantly intensified.
Something came over him then. Murtagh could feel himself start to relax as he started to pet the feline.
"Will you take her?" Tornac asked.
Murtagh stroked the fur behind the feline's ears. He could feel her chest vibrate as the purring intensified even more.
"What's her name?"
Murtagh didn't even look up to know that Tornac was smiling.
"Fenris," the other answered.
He looked up at this. One of the few things he remembered from his childhood was his interest in mythology and ancient religions. History had probably been one of his favourite subjects. He could clearly remember the name Fenris.
"As in the Norse wolf? Fenrir?" he asked.
Tornac's eyes twinkled. "Indeed. It seems like her previous owners wasn't aware of her gender."
Murtagh looked down at the feline. She was wearing a collar that he hadn't noticed before. There wasn't a nametag on it yet.
"You can rename her if you wish."
Murtagh stroked her spine and felt her short tail thump against his thigh.
"No. Fenris is fine."
Fenris just continued to purr.
-:-
Tornac hadn't just brought along Fenris that Christmas Morning. Apparently he had been very certain that his cunning plan would succeed and had bought all the items Murtagh would need to take care of Fenris.
Fenris had everything she needed; dishes for water and food, toys, a basket to sleep in, a brush, scratching posts and litter boxes. Tornac had helped Murtagh set it all up.
The night was falling and Murtagh hadn't quite yet gotten used to his new roommate. Fenris was a very low-maintenance cat, but Murtagh still jumped when she jumped up on the couch and curled up on her blanket. Tornac had given him that as well, saying that it was an old blanket she had been sleeping on at his place for the past few days. He claimed he wasn't going to miss it.
Murtagh stroked along her spine and felt Fenris lean into his touch. The same feeling hit him again. It was so easy to relax once he started to pet her, and he wasn't quite sure why.
But it didn't matter. Murtagh was just glad to have her. He had a feeling he was going to need a stress-reliever soon.
-:-
"Happy New Year," Angela said when he entered her office.
"To you as well," he answered. He walked over to his chair and sat down. There were a couple of cat hairs on his right thigh. Murtagh brushed them away before realising where he was. He blanched and looked up at Angela.
She had already taken her seat and was looking at him with a crocked eyebrow.
"I got a cat," he explained. "She doesn't shed much, but she sheds a little."
Angela perked up at this. "A cat?"
Murtagh leaned back in his seat. "Yes. Tornac got her from the rescue centre. Said I needed a bed-mate."
The second eyebrow followed the first.
"It's an inside joke," Murtagh explained. "He thinks that I would sleep better if I had someone in bed with me; platonically or otherwise."
Angela let out a soft hum and nodded. "He might be onto something there."
"But he knows I have no interest in a relationship and that I have no friend that I can ask to sleep beside me every night."
Angela pursed her lips before making a notation in her notebook. "You still feel that way?"
Murtagh felt some of the excess relaxation from Fenris fade away. He really didn't like talking about relationships.
"Yes," he said simply.
"And you still base that on the fact that you wouldn't be able to be with them romantically?" she asked.
Murtagh was a little tired of having the same conversation over and over. Granted, they hadn't had it that many times, maybe five or so. Angela had tried to get him to talk about his feeling surrounding the abuse more times than that, but it was still a fair amount.
"Yes," he repeated. "From what I understand of romantic relationships, there's a certain requirement of sexual interaction that I have no interest in."
Angela looked at him closely. Murtagh felt like squirming.
At least a minute passed in silence. Finally she seemed to come to an agreement with herself and nodded.
"I have another assignment for you," she said and removed her glasses. "Nothing sexual this time, I promise," she said and gave him a teasing smile.
Murtagh was a little surprised at her teasing, but he was more surprised when he didn't feel uncomfortable with it. When had he gotten so used to Angela that he could allow her to say things like that without making him uncomfortable?
"I want you to think about why you're so against relationships. Examine every angle and try to see the reasons behind your reasons. Look deeper," she clarified.
"Isn't that what you are here for?" he had to ask.
Angela smiled and started to clean the right lens of her glasses. "I can't do everything for you, Murtagh. I have my suspicions, but I want you to do some of the legwork yourself."
Murtagh felt the urge to groan.
Great. More homework. He couldn't wait.
-:-
Murtagh found that he slept better with Fenris in the house. Well, technically he slept better when she slept next to him. She had quickly bored of her bed and jumped into his bed in the middle of the night. She had disturbed a rather nasty nightmare and Murtagh had petted her gratefully for it. When he fell asleep again, he couldn't remember what he had dreamt about.
He involuntarily had to admit that there was something to what Tornac kept saying. Having a bed-mate helped keep the worst nightmares at bay. But there was one problem.
Angela's homework. Why he didn't want to be in a relationship.
It was raining when he found himself actually contemplating this. Thunder rolled somewhere close by, and Murtagh had already turned off his TV, internet connection and plugged out his telephone. He stared out of the window and let his hand glide through Fenris' silky fur.
One of the main reasons he didn't want to be in a relationship was that he didn't know how to interact with another person on that level of commitment. Sometimes Murtagh wondered if he even knew how to be a friend correctly. Tornac and he had an understanding. Their friendship just was. Nothing Murtagh could say or do could break it. Or so he hoped.
His only other friend had to be Thorn, but Murtagh wasn't sure if he was being a good friend to the other. And even if he didn't, they had a prior friendship. There was something there between them that wouldn't leave no matter what happened.
He and Eragon shared a professional relationship, if he could call it such. They knew things about each other, though the weight was hardly even. Eragon knew a lot more about Murtagh than Murtagh knew about him. And they definitely weren't friends.
Saphira was just an acquaintance. She came along with the Thorn package. His other acquaintances were just that; acquaintances. He wasn't even close to the people he worked with.
Murtagh could easily accept and admit that he had problems forming new connections. There was always a part of him that was waiting for someone to betray him.
Maybe that was one of the other reasons? Murtagh paused his stroking and Fenris mewled at him.
"Sorry," he muttered and went back to petting her. She purred at him.
It could be. If he couldn't trust anyone not to hurt him, then how could he let anyone close? It just wasn't possible. Sure, he trusted Tornac and maybe even Thorn explicitly, or at least as much as he could, but he couldn't say he would put the same trust in the new people in his life.
So he had trust issues. Somehow putting words to one of his problems helped. He had heard that getting a diagnosis, even a bad one, sometimes lifted the weight of a burden. It helped to know what was wrong. Murtagh found himself believing that.
Murtagh stroked between Fenris' ears. She awarded him with nuzzling into his hand and purring louder.
But there was more to the trust issue. He knew that his father had scarred him deeply. Angela hadn't spelled it out, but he could almost hear her say it.
'No child should be hurt by the people that are supposed to protect them; namely their parents. There is no deeper betrayal and it will leave deep wounds.'
Maybe she had said it at one time and he hadn't really registered it? Murtagh gave a slight shrug. It was possible.
It was easy to say that he had been betrayed by the one person he was supposed to trust. His father had hurt him instead of protected him. Of course he was going to be affected by it.
His father had abused him practically all his life. Morzan had hit and thrown him around. Murtagh knew that a small part of him had hoped that it would end and that Morzan would be a real father towards him, but it had never happened. Of course he would be unwilling to put that amount of trust in anyone again.
So his inability to trust and his asexuality were his biggest issues. He could work on the first one, but Murtagh couldn't see how he could 'get over' his sexuality.
Sure, there were times when he wished he had someone of his own; someone that would hug him and be there for him. Someone that cared about him. But Murtagh had someone like that, even if Tornac was his father figure rather than a partner. Murtagh was fine with that. He wasn't desperate for a girlfriend or boyfriend.
Murtagh wondered if Angela would ever let that part go. He believed that he could go through life without having a partner by his side. He didn't need a husband or wife to feel complete. He had friends and now he even had a cat.
Murtagh looked down at Fenris. He suddenly noticed that she had stopped purring.
Fenris was looking up at him with her head tilted slightly to the side. She mewled softly, almost sadly.
Tornac had told him that pets had the ability to sense their owners' mood. If that was the case, then he didn't understand why Fenris would look sad. Murtagh was fine. He was just thinking.
The feline mewled again and nudged into his still hand.
"Ok, I'll think about something else," he said and stroked her head.
Fenris kept her eyes on him for a few more seconds before closing them. She let out a soft, almost inaudible purr.
Murtagh sighed and looked out of the window again. If possible, it seemed like it was raining even harder than before. Murtagh mused that it would be interesting to see how Angela would react to the news that he hadn't been able to fully complete his homework because Fenris hadn't approved of it.
A/N So, now you know what Shruikan's look was all about. He knows Galbatorix. He knows what Murtagh has gone through.
Whether or not that means Murtagh will get through it as easily remains to be seen. This story just keeps growing and growing. I have no idea how many chapters this thing will be. I can only sit back and pray it won't be more than 20.
As a side note, do feel free to tell me your feelings about Fenris. If you think a cat is really random or maybe not even appropriate, then have faith, oh young ones. She will be vital to Murtagh's recovery.
Also, I quite adore her. And it has nothing to do with me wanting a cat of my own. Pffft. What are you talking about?
A little mythology lesson for those that are interested: Fenris (or Fenrir) is a monstrous wolf in Norse mythology. He, for yes Fenris is a he, was a sign of the upcoming Ragnarok (aka Armageddon). The stories have it that if Fenris ever broke his chains, he would devour Odin (the head of all the Norse Gods) during the battle that would signal the end of the world.
I don't know what I'll post next, but it might be something new. If you're reading this and wonder what this new thing is, I can tell you that it's a story told through emails and text messages from the modern Inheritance Crew. It will be a bit different, as I have felt like writing different things (read: things and pairings) lately, but I promise it has its moments. Usually cracky and humouristic ones. Ahem. If you're interested in this, feel free to let me know.
But that's all for now, I think. I hope you enjoyed the chapter. See you again soon!