-1

Title : The pros and cons of breathing (11/?)
Author : Amy Shinomori
Characters : Murtagh, Galbatorix, Eragon, Saphira, Thorn.
Rating : R.
Disclaimer : Would I be there if I owned them ?
Warnings : none yet… maybe slash, but you would have to squint very hard.
Notes : Takes place after Murtagh's 'kidnapping' by the twins. Wrote this while listening to 'The pros and cons of breathing' by fall out boy. Dude, I have a life… just not right now .

err, well, no beta for this part xD (I just didn't want to bother my beta-reader again oO (yeah, I'm weird like that)).

The Pros and Cons of Breathing

Stop it…

Stop what…?

Stop staring at the door… they're on their way.

I'm not staring.

Snorting in amusement at his Rider's obvious lack of patience, Shruikan wagged the tip of his tail in the air, his huge, amber eyes gazing intently as he took in the man's clenched jaw, in the deep frown that was creasing his brow.

You look like a worried mother-hen, he mocked.

That's quite enough, Shurikan.

I can't help commenting on this… unusually agitated state of mind you're in. Are you so preoccupied by the boy's well-being…?

I have big plans for him…

Big plans like the ones you had for his father…, questioned the huge, black Dragon, his voice still slow and steady but mocking nonetheless.

Shut your ugly mouth, Dragon! I don't want to hear anymore from you!

Ha! Sensitive subject, heh, Galbatorix… Shurikan chuckled softly. It must be sooooo painful… just to look at him. He looks so much like Morzan… this same, luscious black hair, those same intense green-eyes, piercing right to the bottom of that dark soul of yours… So much like his father, indeed.

Shurikan!

…do you feel it, Galbatorix…? The pain… or is your heart as cold and lifeless as your long lost soul-mate…?

ENOUGH !!!

Growling low in his throat as he felt Galabtorix's consciousness collide with his own, Shurikan retreated into his mind with a weak, tortured bark of laugher…

No matter how hard you try to bring him back, you can never have Morzan by your sides again… not even through his son.

We shall see, Galbatorix hissed, his whole body tensing as he heard the sound of heavy footsteps echoing through the corridors.

One day, Galbatorix… one day, your young hatchling will crush you under his boot without so much as a glance in your direction. And I won't do a thing to stop him…

)))oOo(((

Upon entering the room, Murtagh felt his hand start to shake slightly… he could practically taste the King's mixed emotions on the air.

He was in for a hell of a sermon, he knew… but surprisingly, he could feel no anger radiating from the room. Frustration, impatience, disappointment… and something he would have never, ever, associated with the King…

…relief.

Swallowing through the lump in his throat, Murtagh took a deep breath to calm himself and pushed the door open, wincing slightly as he heard Shurikan scoff inside…

'Murtagh…' Galbatorix acknowledged him with a short nod and gestured for him to cross the room and come stand in front of him.

Taken aback by the obvious lack of malice in the King's gaze, Murtagh complied with the man's wordless command, his face as blank and expressionless as he could manage.

'I see you are not severely harmed… that's a good thing.' said the King, standing up from his throne and crossing his arms over his chest before he continued. 'I was worried that that… nasty temper of yours had gotten you into troubles again…'

Frowning suspiciously, the young Rider clenched his jaw to keep a smart retort from escaping his mouth.

'However… I can't really say I'm satisfied with the way you executed the task I gave you…'

'I followed your orders…' Murtagh retorted dryly. 'You wanted me to try and capture the other Rider and his Dragon… well, I tried.'

'You're being insolent, Murtagh…' the King warned, his cold brown eyes narrowing slightly as he heard the touch of defiance in the younger man's voice. '…anyway, let's drop the subject for now. Is your Dragon injured…?'

'No, sir…'

What is wrong with him…?

'Hmm, good…' Galbatorix commented absently, gesturing for a guard to join them in the centre of the large room. 'Take my young apprentice to his new quarters. And make sure that food is delivered for him and his Dragon.'

'Aye, sire…' the guard nodded, turning to Murtagh. 'Follow me, young sir…'

'Wait-wait…!' Murtagh frowned, his eyes frantically searching Galbatorix's grim face for any sign of treachery. 'You mean you're not going to… hmm… punish me for my failure…?'

Smiling sadly, the King unfolded his arms and laced his fingers behind his back.

'Well… I do believe that you have had your share of torment for today.' he said slowly. 'I've had echoes of Magdal's demise… I'll let you mourn your lieutenant in peace…'

You know what it's like, don't you… losing your right-hand man, Shurikan hissed in his ear.

Ignoring him, Galbatorix shook his head softly to clear his thoughts.

'We'll talk about this tomorrow, Murtagh… now leave before I change my mind.'

)))oOo(((

How did it go, Thorn asked cautiously, surprised to find his Rider in such good shape.

He didn't ask anything… he just let me regain my quarters.

Your quarters…? Thorn asked, incredulous as he squinted to see Murtagh's surroundings through their bond. I don't know where you are going, Murtagh. But this doesn't look like our cavern at all…

We're going to my father's old chambers… I suppose Galbatorix wants me in the castle… just in case I try to do something stupid.

Hmpf…

'Here we are, sir…' said the guard. 'I'll leave you here, if you need anything, please, don't hesitate to ring the bell at the entrance and someone will come right away.'

'Thank you…' Murtagh said unenthusiastically as he let his fingers brush over the surface of the large wooden door that led to his father's chambers.

'Also, sir… there is an alcove in the wall, just beside the bedroom. It's big enough for your Dragon friend to fit in. We'll have him come to you as soon as possible.' the man added. 'Oh, and… the King wants you to attend a banquet tomorrow, in the evening. It would seem that he has a declaration to make in front of the court...probably about the outcome of the Battle of the Burning Plains…'

The Battle of the Burning Plains… Murtagh thought bitterly. More like the slaughter of the Burning Plains… this was barbaric butchery, nothing more.

War is barbaric, Murtagh, Thorn rationalised. You did your best to protect the men that had been placed under your responsibility. You have done your duty…

Oh great… Magdal's still dead in case you haven't noticed.

Snorting to himself, Murtagh gave a little push to the door and listened carefully to the cringing noise it made as it opened…

Some things never change, he thought, remembering the last few hours he had spent there… remembering the time he had opened this door to find his mother laying dead on Morzan's bed…

'Guard…' he asked softly.

'Yes, sir ?'

'Have you heard from my first lieutenant…'

A small but sincere smile stretched the man's lips and something in his behaviour seemed to warm up instantly as he saw the flicker of concern that flashed through his young commander's eyes.

'Of course, sir! My sisters have been tending to his injuries.' he said with a hint of pride. 'He couldn't possibly be in better hands, my Lord. For now, he is still unconscious but… he will be just fine, I'm sure… just give it some time.'

Smiling despite his sour mood, Murtagh nodded his head shortly and turned his gaze back to the open door in front of him.

'Would you be so kind as to send someone to my chambers if he were to wake up before I visit him…?'

'Of course, sir !' the young guard said, bowing enthusiastically before he left.

Why do people around me always act like a bunch of five-year-olds, Murtagh thought, shaking his head in wonder.

They don't, Murtagh, Thorn smirked. You're the one who's being way too mature sometimes…

Excuse me, but I've got every reason to feel old beyond my years, Murtagh scoffed.

Yeah sure… you're a sixty-years-old granpa in a eighteen-year-old body… tsss.

I'll be nineteen in a few weeks, the Rider remarked sadly.

You'll always be my little hatchling… so don't you get all worked up.

Slightly more relaxed, Murtagh took a few steps towards the centre of the room, closing the door behind him before he took a look around.

This room is still the same… exactly the same, he swallowed, lifting his hand to let his fingers trail over the back of the large, velvet covered armchair that stood on the richly carpeted floor, just in front of an imposing fire-place.

Nothing had changed… if he squinted hard enough, Murtagh could almost see his father's massive figure slouched in the armchair…

Except that he now knew that the man wasn't that massive at all, after all… but the boy had been so tiny and easily-impressionable. Morzan had towered over him then… would he now ?

Shaking his head weakly, Murtagh took his eyes off the armchair and quickly scanned the room for any sign of his mother's belongings…

No dust… he remarked as he took in the perfectly orderly bookcases that sat against the wall opposite the door. Galbatorix must have sent someone to clean this room before I came back.

Sighing, Murtagh tilted his head back to look up at the painting on the ceiling… Dragons, everywhere… his father had always been fascinated with wild Dragons…

Closing his eyes tiredly, Murtagh let the rich scent of the room overwhelm him… it smelled of leather… with a lingering touch of Lilac from his mother's perfume.

'Murtagh, dear… don't sit so close to the fireplace…'

Blinking rapidly as he felt hot tears gathering behind his lids, Murtagh lifted a hand and ran his fingers through his dirty hair.

The walls, soberly, still warmly decorated, were highlighted by a few flaps of dark-crimson velvet… cautiously crossing the dimly lit room, Murtagh sucked a deep breath in before he took a look inside his mother's old room.

Leaning against the doorframe, he lets his gaze wander from the neatly made bed to the dark, wooden desk propped against the wall.

Selena would always pick him up and sit him on her desk when she wanted to comb his hair, her bright hazel-eyes sparkling with pride and love as she told him, over and over, how much he looked like his father.

She had been so frail… so frail and delicate, with her long golden hair and her slightly tanned skin… so unlike Morzan…

Shuddering at the thought of his father's ghostly pale skin, Murtagh turned away from the room, his eyes tightly shut.

Upon hearing the pained howl that echoed through the castle, Murtagh jumped down from his nurse's laps and ran towards the hall, ignoring the old woman's alarmed cry.

He knew that voice…

As soon as he entered the great hall, he saw his father's head snap up towards him. His eyes were red, blood was sipping from the corner of his lips… his whole body was hunched over.

Using his sword to support himself, Morzan tried to stand up from his kneeling position but the tall man in front of him gave him a hard push in the chest with his foot, sending him crashing on his back.

Gasping softly as he saw the flash of bright blue magic shoot from the cloaked figure's right hand, Murtagh clenched his jaw, his heart pounding madly in his ears.

Ignoring him, the man bent down to pick up his father's sword… the same sword that had split his whole back open, scarring him for life, not so long ago… and Murtagh sighed, relieved to see that cursed weapon leave his genitor's hand.

'Vengeance won't bring Saphira back, Brom…' Morzan smirked, his blood-shot green-eyes darting from Murtagh to the man in front of him.

'This is not vengeance… this is retribution…'

Shaking himself from his trance, Murtagh tore his eyes open to see that he had let himself slop against the wall.

Swallowing past the lump in his throat, the boy forced himself to watch as the cloaked figure swirled Zar'roc once before slicing his father's throat with a lazy flick of the wrist.

Murtagh was frozen in place, his eyes completely blank as he watched Morzan blood flow from the deep gash in his neck.

He was still here, kneeling a few feet from his father's corpse, when Galbatorix finally dropped by Morzan's sides, frantically feeling his chest for any sign of a pulse, his grim face contorted in a frightening mask of pain and distress.

The King's scream of anguish had echoed through the whole castle, freezing Murtagh's blood inside his veins as he stood there, unable to move or say anything…

The only thing he remembered after that were the strong hands that pulled him from the floor and took him away from the scene of his father's death…

At the sound of batting wings just outside his chambers, Murtagh's eyes shot open. Welcoming the distraction from his morose thoughts, he pushed himself up from the ground. Trying to calm himself with slow, deep breaths, he then took a few steps towards the source of the deafening noise.

Murtagh ? Thorn called from the adjoining room, which was, surprisingly, large enough for the broad Dragon to fit in comfortably. There was a wide opening in the wall opposite the door that led to the spacious balcony on which said Dragon was currently sitting, his head slightly tilted to the side.

So, Thorn frowned in his mind, This is where you grew up…

Well, until my mother died that is…

I'm sorry… Thorn frowned, feeling his Rider's agitation… do you mind if I come in…?

Murtagh scoffed and turned on his heels, gesturing for Thorn to follow him into the room.

Galbatorix has probably charmed this room so no matter how big and fat you get you will never outgrow it, he snorted.

Aha, very funny, Murtagh… Thorn grunted. I'm not fat…

Right… you're not fat, you're big-boned…

Snorting, Thorn gave him a shove in the back with his muzzle, chuckling cheerfully as his insolent Rider fell face first into the straw that was covering the floor.

Swearing colourfully, Murtagh rolled over, bits of straw sticking out of his messy black hair, to shoot him a deadly glare.

You are so going to pay for that, he promised.

Right, farmer boy ! Come and get me !

)))oOo(((

Meanwhile, in Aberon, the last of the Varden's troops finally regained their homes, some alive, some dead, but still, for the most part, ready to celebrate their victory…

Seated on Saphira's scaled back at the farthest entrance of the city, Eragon heaved another sigh as he took in the countless bodies, lined in front of the graveyard, waiting to be buried… they were dead, gone forever, most of them too battered and butchered to be recognised… and still, the rest of the men were already preparing a celebration…

You can't blame them, Eragon… most of them are just trying to forget…

I know…

Hopping off his Dragon's back, Eragon grunted slightly as he felt his tired knees cracks from the impact.

What are you going to do about Murtagh…? Saphira asked him cautiously.

Clenching his jaw tightly, Eragon turned back to give her a pointed look…

I'll do what has to be done…

'Did you kill the coward responsible for this?'

'He escaped.' Eragon could not bring himself to explain that the Rider was Murtagh.

Orik stamped his fist into his hand. 'Barzûln!'

'But I swear to you upon every stone in Alagaësia that, as one of Dûrgrimst Ingeitum, I'll do everything I can to avenge Hrothgar's death.'

'Aye, you're the only one besides the elves strong enough to bring this foul murderer to justice. And when you find him... grind his bones to dust, Eragon. Pull his teeth and fill his veins with molten lead; make himsuffer for every minute of Hrothgar's life that he stole.'

)))oOo(((

Okay, okay ! Here's the last chapter of this first part ! I hope it was entertaining… not particularly interesting but I needed a smooth transition between the books.

This chapter's dedicated to Riotfox311 because Mother-hen!Galby is fun. (but don't worry, he'll stay in character… narf). The first chapter of second part is already half-done

I hope you guys enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it !