Chapter 4 - Emerald

Murtagh had met Vrael in the days immediately after Thorn's hatching.

While the two had had a very rocky start, Murtagh had soon come to appreciate the old elf's presence. He often sought the other Rider out after having to deal with the King and Vrael had accepted his approaches with little complaint, realising that the younger Rider needed to converse with someone in a similar situation to him.

Vrael had not wanted to teach Murtagh. He had initially tried to teach him the bare minimum, but Galbatorix had soon realised and had threatened to take over Murtagh's training himself. Thus, Murtagh had found his teacher. Vrael had soon started stepping between Galbatorix and Murtagh in the young Rider's defence – he'd endured many a beating in Murtagh's stead.

As Murtagh had progressed, he'd found himself trying to return the favour to the old elf when he'd caught Vrael painfully making his way back to his chambers, back split open and raw with a trail of blood behind him. Murtagh was under no illusions however – Vrael had only protected him to protect Thorn from feeling such pain while he was still a hatchling. As Thorn had quickly grown – far faster than he should have, thanks to the King's meddling – Vrael had gradually stepped in less and less at Murtagh's insistence.

And after Murtagh's return from the Burning Plains, he'd caught Vrael intently studying a fairth as if his existence depended upon it. A white dragon hatchling, tumbling over itself as it attempted to fly only for it to be dragged back down to earth by gravity. Another had been stuck to the stone wall of Vrael's chamber by magic, one which Murtagh could only assume had been Vroengard before the Fall of the Dragon Riders. A final one which Vrael had always taken great pains to hide from Galbatorix depicted a dark-eyed boy barely in adulthood sprawled over a stone floor on his back with a silver dragon curled up on his stomach. Murtagh had his suspicions – especially so when he heard the respect with which Galbatorix always talked to Vrael and his tone when he called him ebrithil.

But Murtagh had never asked either of them.

"The elves have been chased off," Thorn said with evident glee.

"Good," Murtagh thought back to him.

"Ebrithil?"

"I haven't found him yet," Murtagh replied. "He's hiding."

"Shall I burn them?"

Murtagh smiled faintly. It wasn't only him whom was defensive over Vrael. Since Vrael had helped Murtagh with taking care of Thorn since he hatched, the red dragon had become incredibly fond of the ancient Rider. "Not yet."

"But soon?"

Murtagh sent fond amusement along the bond to his dragon. "Perhaps." The Red Rider paused, finally sensing the mind of the elf. "Found him." He should have assumed that the elf would retreat to the room he'd taken for himself while he was in Belatona.

"Ebrithil?" He questioned, nudging open Vrael's door with a loud creak. Murtagh leant on the doorframe, watching Vrael as the elf stared into the flames of the fireplace. "Thorn's chased them away. He's concerned. And so am I."

The cries of Edoc'sil were unwelcome, Murtagh knew that much.

"Don't be," Vrael said. "Worry for yourselves."

Murtagh moved further into the room, letting the door swing shut behind him and settled onto the edge of Vrael's bed. The elf's fascination with the flames was obvious, due to the emerald shape warmed by the heat.

"Anything?"

"No."

Murtagh was faintly relieved, though he felt Thorn's disappointment. "That's good at least. Will you be leaving soon?"

Vrael wasn't supposed to be in Belatona when the Varden arrived. Galbatorix had initially wanted him to move onto the next town, but when the elf had been delayed and so was still present at the initial assault, he'd received new orders – defend the city, and stop the Varden. And now the elves had turned up too.

"Perhaps. If all goes to plan."

"Right," Murtagh said. "The plan. Don't suppose you can tell me what our King has planned."

"He's forbidden it."

"Of course. Will the Varden be able to take the city?"

"With the elves here too? Undoubtedly." Vrael finally glanced over at him. Murtagh hadn't seen many elves before, so he had been surprised to meet them at Gil'ead. Compared to Vrael, they all seemed full of life. The elf before him was worn. He possessed a far greater strength than the rest of them, but he looked older despite that.

Murtagh raised an eyebrow, reclining back as he did so. "Galbatorix wants them to take the city." He deduced. "Why?"

"A challenge for you," his teacher replied.

"I'm guessing he's told you?"

"Enough for me to know my part in his plans," Vrael said. "But little else. If there's anyone he's apt to reveal everything to, it's not me."

"It's because he knows you'll find a way to eventually get word to the Varden," Murtagh drawled.

"I doubt it," Vrael murmured. His eyes hardened. "He's ensured that much at least. After six decades of oaths from me he knows exactly what I can and can't do."

Murtagh had never asked Vrael what had happened in the four decades before that, between his defeat at Ristvak'baen and when Galbatorix had finally crushed his mental shields and forced him into servitude. He didn't need to ask him, Galbatorix's mockery of the old Rider had informed Murtagh of more than enough.

Galbatorix had handed Vrael over to the Ra'zac for four decades. By the time Galbatorix ordered Morzan to retrieve Vrael, it was simple for him to bat away the futile efforts from the elf of forming any kind of defence.

The sky outside was darkening, casting dark shadows over Vrael's expression as the fire flickered. "You shouldn't stay up too late," Vrael finally added. "I have a feeling that they'll attack tomorrow. You should be rested."

"How do you know?"

"After a speech like that?" Vrael questioned, looking faintly amused. "Oromis has successfully riled up every elf, and potentially every other race too. No one will wish to wait too long after listening to him. Trust me, Murtagh, the assault will come tomorrow."

"I trust you," Murtagh said. "But perhaps you should listen to your own advice too. Try not to stay up mourning for the past too long, ebrithil."

Vrael inclined his head and Murtagh rose, making his way to the door. "Murtagh."

The Red Rider paused, glancing back at the King's reluctantly loyal right hand. "Tomorrow, I'll need you to listen to my orders. As I say, as soon as I say."

Murtagh frowned. "Always," he promised. "I trust you," the son of Morzan repeated.

"You shouldn't," Vrael said darkly, returning his gaze to the emerald dragon egg nestled amongst the gentle flames of the fireplace.


Ok. Vrael. As stated in this chapter, he spent 4 decades with the Ra'zac and I don't really think I need to go into more detail about that. And he's been a name-slave for 6 decades. He's bitter, and he's lost all hope. He's fully aware that he's failed Alagaesia and every race within it in losing to Galbatorix because he hesitated and he's been hating himself for it ever since. I think after having everything that he's dedicated his life to burnt down he'd be very different to how he's often mentioned in the series. 'Ancient and wise', yes. But he's lost everything. Anyone would change who they were after that.

Ghostfall: Well it would be a little difficult to fit Kronercy into this fanfic, wouldn't it? But... there may be one relationship I'd be willing to try. I'm pretty sure that the elves have no issue with mxm relations... though I may be wrong.