Okay, this was totally random. Based on random thoughts regarding Murtagh's relative innocence and his refusal to die. I think that he wouldn't be so selfish as to cling to a living hell of life, that he must have a reason. That is basically what this fic is based on.
Warnings: Angst, Eldest spoilers, Un-Beta'd
Takes place after the Burning Plains incident.
Disclaimer: If this belonged to me, would it be here? Rock on, CP!
Lost -A Murtagh vignette
I'm lost. I can feel it. Not physically, for I know exactly where my body resides, but spiritually I am adrift.
My heart has been torn asunder, my morals and values set afloat on the sea of uncertainty.
I suppose that's the best you can hope for, when you've betrayed everything you ever stood for.
Not that I wanted to…
There's blood on my hands. Innocent blood. Not like Torkenbrand's death, causing Eragon's and my first fight.
The dwarf king, whose emissary fought for me, killed at my own hands.
Shruikan, black dragon, taunting Thorn and me as we dance the most primal dance there is, of war and pain.
Galbatorix, king of Alagaesia, and his training. The pain of losing everything.
Sometimes I just want to end it all, take up Eragon's offer. Then I think of my reason for being, and it disappears. How am I to protect her if I die?
I reach for my anchor. A crimson dragon, out on the ramparts of Uru'baen, my prison, calls, sending a wave of reassurance.
Suddenly I'm not so lost anymore.
;)
Okay, so that was random. Anyway, hope you enjoyed it! Feel free to drop a review on your way out.
flufflybunny