Murtagh wore clothing that was much finer than he.
A golden doublet hugged his slim chest, while black sleeves stretched down his arms. Flared cuffs, colored red, circled his wrists while black trousers found themselves on his legs. Dark blue boots were stitched closed from his knee to the tip of his foot, while a new dwarven longsword, gifted to him by the King, hung from his belt.
Before him, Nasuada stood, her back facing him. They were in a dark hallway, curving stone walls on either side of them. Stone doors sat before her, the knobs fashioned in the grimacing faces of golems.
"We should be inside." Murtagh said quietly. Nasuada paused, and Murtagh saw her hands slide away from her sides.
"This is the first time we've been alone . . . since . . ."
"It isn't like you to be late." Murtagh responded, yearning for her and yet knowing he couldn't. Nasuadon's words resurfaced in his mind, while a darker truth loomed.
I cannot be with her. For a time, I entertained the idea . . . but I cannot . . .
"Do you want me, Murtagh?" Nasuada asked suddenly, her voice shaking. Murtagh looked away from her neck, and to the stone reliefs that were scrapped upon the walls.
"Do you want me?" She asked again, turning to face him. Tears threatened to fall from her eyes, those dark and beautiful eyes.
He did desire her. But what good would feelings do them? He looked away from Nasuada, his long hair falling over his eyes as he did.
Nasuada turned without a word, and approached the door. Murtagh composed himself, and followed. Light entered his view as Nasuada pulled the doors open.
"Nasuada!" Orrin cried, rushing up to her and holding her close. She accepted the hug, and Orrin winked at Murtagh as his head rested on Nasuada's shoulder.
Before them, Several Elved stood, with Dwarven lords and human ones as well. Prince Orik, nearly as big as his father, sat in a regal-looking throne while the Dwarib King sat in his high-seat.
"A kirlai!" The King cried.
Prince Orik locked eyes with Murtagh at once, and smiled.
Orrin released Nasuada, and he retreated back to his spot in the room. There were no chairs besides the ones for the Prince and King, so they were all forced to stand around a jutting blue crystal that was found at the center of the gray-colored room. Murtagh loomed in Nasuada's shadow, as a guard, by Orrin's request. Orrin curiously took up his place with the Elves, and an attractive Elf woman inching away from him as he brushed too closely against her. One of the Dwarib, a handsome-looking one with dignified youth and grace approached Murtagh.
"Before the pleasantries begin, I would like to introduce myself. I am Vermal Nyste, and it is a pleasure to meet the one who saved our King." He bowed, taking Murtagh's hand. Murtagh pulled away from him slightly, smiling politely.
"I only did as what was expected of me." Murtagh saw Orrin frowning at him, and he smiled, but inside his own mind. On the outside, his face was emotionless, as still as a summer pool, undisturbed by mosquito or wind or falling leaf.
Vermal fell back among the dwarves.
Orrin stepped forward.
"My allies, friends, associates." He started. Murtagh heard the echo of Orrin's words shadowed in Dwarib, for the sake of the King.
"The time is nearly upon us. In a short while, we will march for the mainlands, and retake our Kingdom!" He cried, to a half-hearted response of clapping. Flustered, he paused, and continued.
"Of course, all deals will be honored." He said quickly, to more silence. The races of the world looked at him expectantly, and he was silent, groping for words. Finally, he began anew.
"We are strong. The Dwarves have already begun their campaign in the seas. As we speak, Imperial trade routes are being raided, and ports blockaded. They will have to depend on their internal trade markets, as they will receive no coin nor product from anywhere else, thanks to our Dwarven allies."
Vermal grinned proudly.
"After my marriage, we shall march. I will be on the frontlines, fighting with you, my brave allies. It will be a hard battle, but in the end we will prevail. Justice will prevail."
"I know you." One of the Elven lords said suddenly. Orrin turned, confused, as a tall and dark-haired elf brushed past him. The elf had blue eyes, white skin, and wore a yellow sash over one shoulder, while a curved blade hung from a jewel-incrusted belt. A sigil was painted on his tunic : A green viper, curling to strike. He stopped before Murtagh.
Murtagh could do nothing but return the stare he received.
"Your face . . . it cannot be . . ."
Steel flashed before Murtagh.
He jumped back, groping for his own sword as the Elf charged. The Dwarf King bellowed as he jumped from his throne, grasping for the Elf.
The Elven party jumped to the attacking lords defense, blocking the King.
Murtagh danced away from the tip of the cruel and curving blade.
"What is the meaning of this?!" Nasuada demanded. Murtagh finally drew his new sword, and blocked a blow that would have taken half of his face. The steel rang in the room, bouncing off of the walls like a wayward banshee.
"I forgot you humans live such short lives. This . . . this is Morzan."
Murtagh's defense faltered as the words touched his ears. The Elf lord pressed the assault, knocking Murtagh's blade free from his hand. Murtagh fell to the ground, a sword inches from his neck.
"Morzan? Impossible. He's within Uru'baen." Orrin said as the dwarf King screamed at the elves that blocked him.
"It is him. The eyes, the hair . . . Morzan is among us. I know not how he came here."
"You're wrong." Nasuada said loudly. Heads turned as she spoke.
"Check his hand. Morzan is a member of the Forsworn. If it is him, he would be marked." One of the Elves offered.
The Elf lord reached down and roughly grasped Murtagh's right arm. Murtagh didn't resist as the Elf turned his palm over, and frowned as he found nothing.
"Treachery. This is Morzan. I saw this one kill many of my kin. We were fighting Galbatorix's hordes as the Omshurtag burned our lands. She killed Evander, and then my two brothers. Our reward for aiding the humans. And it seems we have been fooled again. This is a trap . . . I doubt anyone here could defeat Morzan. Here he stands,
Ready to destroy this alliance."
"Lord Ocain, I promise you, this man is not Morzan. He is the son of some trader we found in the deep south. Abandonded." Orrin said quickly.
Lord Ocain suddenly gripped Murtagh's head in his fingers, and began digging through his mind. Murtagh let him, putting up no defense. Even if he did, the Elf could easily tear through them. The Elf retreated from his mind, a sly smile on his face.
"Not Morzan, but Morzan's son. His name is Murtagh, which means he is named after the black flame, Murtaghen."
Prince Orik's voice rose above the sudden clamor.
"Murtaghen killed many of our kin." He said coldly.
A Sealed Elf spoke next, ebony skin shining as blonde hair touched the Elf cheek.
"And many of ours." He said, his voice almost soothing.
As the words were translated for the King, the dwarf ruler erupted in fury, speaking so fast spit came flying from his mouth.
"My father states he refuses to ally with a King who harbors a son of the Forsworn." Orik said harshly.
"What should be done with him?" Vermal asked.
"Arrest him at once." Orin commanded.
Dusk Riders, who had been hidden from view, came from the shadows behind Murtagh. He did not fight back as they bound him with powerful arms.
"My father demands that he dies." Orik said.
"It will be done, and quickly." Orrin assured.
"YOU CANNOT KILL HIM! Not without trial. He did nothing wrong." Nasuada bellowed. Murtagh looked at her, and then looked away, ashamed.
Why didn't I run? I should have gone. Now . . . now I am lost. Lost to her forever.
"He will answer for Morzan's crimes. Dusk Riders, interrogate him, make him take responsibility for the deaths of those who fell at Morzan's hands."
Murtagh was led down into a dark crypt.
He was stripped.
He was pressed face first into a cold stone wall.
The pain of the first slash made him gasp in surprise.
The whip cracked in the air, and then it slapped against his skin again, sharp claws at the end of the tough leather pulling his skin away. He felt blood dribble down the end of his back, down his buttocks and down his legs.
The whip struck again and again, until Murtagh knew nothing but the numb pain of it. They asked him questions, and he just remembered saying no. No and no and no, until it became the only word he knew. The only sensation he knew. He heard the question, replied, and then felt the whip. Sometimes hours would pass where he was left alone, shivering and thirsty. He heard a door open, saw light reflect from the stone he was facing.
A gasp.
Nasuada.
She hurriedly stepped to him, and he heard her footsteps pause as she no doubt took in the ruin of his back. It had already been scarred before, and he couldn't imagine what it looked like now.
"I brought you water." She said quietly, pressing it to his lips as she delicately held his head in the direction of the waterskin. Murtagh drank greedily, the cool liquid dripped down his neck as it flowed into his throat.
He emptied the waterskin, and Nasuada dropped it at her feet. He turned to face her, looking as best as he could.
"I told you that you'd find out soon."
"Murtagh," She rasped.
"I'm innocent. I did nothing. You know that." He said.
"They brought me here to convince you to admit to your crimes. Your father's crimes."
Murtagh laughed bitterly, the action hurting him.
"Crimes? How is that justice. Orrin prattles on about justice, but what is this? He's had it out for me, he is just looking for a chance to get rid of me, and here it is. The others . . . their hatred for my father deludes their minds. The King . . ." Murtagh smiled.
"I saved him. And this is how he returns my kindness."
Suddenly, a thought entered into his mind.
"Zidda. What did they do to Zidda?" Murtagh asked.
"He is to be executed as well."
"Killing me is one thing, but Zidda..!" Murtagh screamed. Nasuada stepped back from him.
"Morzan is evil . . ."
"But am I? is Zidda? He's just a boy. We both are, Nasuada. Your king, his father . . . they're evil. Look at what they're doing, open your eyes. DO you even know why Galbatorix rebelled? Do you?"
Nasuada was silent.
"Of course not. It was for a girl. She was killed. By dwarves, dwarves who attacked her without provocation. Galbatorix demanded justice. The king, a Langfeld king, And Lord Rider Vrael were too weak to act against the dwarves. The dwarves in turn offered a meager proxy to stand in for the dwarf that committed the crime. Galbatorix rejected the proxy, killing the Dwarf that slew his lover. Galbatorix killed him while the dwarf wore the girl's bones. Then the Langfelds went after Galbatorix, on behalf of the dwarves. That is how your precious kingdom was overthrown."
"I don't believe you." She said softly.
"Why? Because I'm Morzan's son?"
"You lied to me."
"What did you want me to do? Yes, I am Murtagh of House Circcian, son of Morzan, first of the Forsworn. You said you wanted me, before. Do you still?"
Nasuada left him.
In the silence Murtagh sobbed, big gulping cries that racked him while tears as heavy as blood dragged across his cheeks. Soon after, the whips returned. One day after that, they came again. And then the next day. On the third day, as blood poured from Murtagh's back, he took the blame for the murders Morzan committed.
"You will be killed after Orrin's wedding. He plans to behead you himself." A cruel voice said behind him.
Tears had been dried from Murtagh's eyes. The only thing left was anger. His eyelids crawled open, and a ragged voice left his cracked lips, but uttered no words.
He hung in silence, waiting for the death that was gifted to him.