Beautiful Disaster

Disclaimer: I don't own Eragon or Beautiful Disaster. I really don't think any of you guys or girls thinks I do, but who's to argue with fanfiction? I'll get kicked off if I do. Lol. Jk. Now for the ficcie.

Nasuada sat at the desk in her study. She was going through the Varden's monstrous pile of paper work. She looked at the piece of paper in her hand. It was a message from the Varden's spies in Urû'baen. It was a complicated report, and Nasuada was having trouble understanding everything. She groaned. What time was it? She was so tired. She looked at the clock. It was 3:00 A.M. No wonder she was so tired. Farica had told her to get some sleep. She hadn't been able to. Not since Murtagh had betrayed them months ago.

Murtagh. The name caused her endless pain. His "death" and then betrayal had been almost unbearable after her father's death. She sat there, trying to clear her head and not think about him. She was temporarily successful. She sat there with her head in her hands until she heard a knock on the door.

"Come in," she said, standing up.

Eragon entered the room. He looked grave and tired. Nasuada knew he had just come from Helgrind with Roran and Arya. He had trained in Ellesméra before that just so he could defeat them.

"Eragon, what is it?" she asked. She was afraid to know.

"Murtagh was at Helgrind. We…we fought. I…I managed to capture him. He's…he's…in…in the infirmary. He's unconscious," the rider stammered.

Nasuada sat there. She just stared at the desk.

"Nasuada?" Eragon asked tentatively.

"You may go, Eragon," she told him.

The rider left the room. He gave her a concerned look as he closed the door.

Nasuada stood up. She sat back down. She couldn't go to the infirmary. She couldn't bring herself to. She stood up again. She would go. She knew she shouldn't, but she had to see him again.

Nasuada quickly made her way to the infirmary. If she didn't get there swiftly, she knew she would loose courage.

Nasuada quietly opened the door. No healers were in sight. She saw Murtagh lying in the fifth bed to the left. His head was lolling to the right. A magical barrier was around the bed. Trianna had explained it to Orrin who had explained it to her. Apparently, the barrier would keep him in without keeping others out. She walked over to the bed and sat on next to it.

Murtagh stirred slightly. His head turned to the left. His eyes wandered under his eyelids as though he were dreaming. His dark hair had grown since she last saw him. It was now falling in his eyes. She had forgotten how much seeing him affected her.

Stop it, she told herself. She had made Eragon tell her everything Murtagh had said during their battle after she had dreamed of him again. The words had hurt her, but they hadn't broken her affection, as she had hoped they would.

Despite everything he had said Nasuada couldn't believe that Murtagh was evil. A part of her still thought that he had only said those things to comfort himself. Maybe that was why Eragon had managed to capture him. Maybe.

Stop thinking this way, she told herself. You're the leader of the Varden. You can't save him. You can't help him. You can't love him.

He drowns in his dreams.
An exquisite extreme I know.
He's as damned as he seems,
And more heaven than a heart could hold.
And if I try to save him,
My whole world could cave in.
It just ain't right.
It just ain't right.

She put her head in her hands yet again. She cried this time. Why had he done this? Why had Galbatorix chosen him of all men in the Empire? Why had the twins betrayed them? She knew she would never be able to truly answer these questions.

Oh and I don't know.
I don't know what is after.
But he's so beautiful,
Such a beautiful disaster.
And if I could hold on
Through the tears and the laughter,
Would it be beautiful,
Or just a beautiful disaster?

She remembered her first meeting with him. She had expected Morzan's son to be a crude, cruel, and rough man. Her expectations had been completely wrong.

Nasuada walked through the halls. She came to the door. Guards were posted outside of it.

"Do you have a message for the prisoner from your father?" one guard questioned her, spitting the word "prisoner".

"I suppose you could say that," Nasuada replied. It wasn't exactly true. Her curiosity had simply gotten the better of her when she had heard that Morzan's son was at the Varden.

The guard looked reluctant to let her past, but he didn't dare refuse Ajihod's daughter. Nasuada smiled at him as she walked into the room.

A young, attractive, dark-haired man sat on the room's stout bed, reading a large scroll. He looked up as she entered the room.

Nasuada found herself smiling at him in spite of herself. She dropped the smile almost as soon as she assumed it. Farica had often told her that certain men took a sincere smile as a promise for so much more. Nasuada had laughed it off. Now, facing the son of the most feared Foresworn, she began to wonder if her maid had been right. Murtagh didn't seem like that, but she had been told stories about Galbatorix's riders that made her hair curl.

The man snorted a little at the expression on her face. He quickly assumed his original passive expression that was curiously filled with emotion.

Nasuada remembered her manners. "I am Nasuada, daughter of Ajihod," she explained, dropping a quick curtsey.

Murtagh put aside the scroll that he was reading and got off of the bed. He bowed to her.

"Pleased to meet you, Milady. I assume that you already know my name," he replied smoothly. "Have you a message from your father?"

"No," Nasuada said slowly.

Murtagh's looked at her inquiringly.

"I only wanted to meet you," she said, speaking quickly this time.

A rueful smile passed over Murtagh's face. "Ah, I suppose you wanted to see if I was really as monstrous as they say. I must say that I admire your courage, O Daughter of Ajihod," he quirked.

"No, I…" she started to say before she realized he was joking. She laughed. Murtagh joined in.

"So, Milord, do you find these accommodations suitable?" Nasuada inquired, searching for a topic.

"I admit I expected to be locked in a cell with no windows and only bread and water for food," he explained. "The Varden have surprised me with their generosity, though if I don't get some exercise, I fear I may turn into a fat scholar."

Nasuada laughed at this. She almost said, "And wouldn't that be a shame?" but stopped herself just in time. His current body was extremely fit and muscular.

"If you tarry to long here, people may wonder why it took Ajihod's daughter so long to deliver a non-existent message to Morzan's son," he cautioned her.

Nasuada nodded. "I'll come back," she told him before she left the room. Murtagh looked pleasantly surprised by this. One guard gave her an inquiring look as she left the room, and Nasuada couldn't help but notice that Murtagh had had better manners than this man.

She sat there staring at him. He had seemed so normal that day. She had pitied him when she had learned of the scar that Morzan had placed upon his back when he was three. She couldn't fully comprehend how a father could do that to his own child because Ajihod had always loved her so much. It made her doubt his willingness to be on Galbatorix's side.

But he still is.

He's magic and myth
As strong as what I believe
A tragedy with
More damage than a soul should see
And do I try to change him?
So hard not to blame him
Hold on tight
Hold on tight

Oh 'cause I don't know.
I don't know what is after,
But he's so beautiful,
Such a beautiful disaster.
And if I could hold on
Through the tears and the laughter,
Would it be beautiful,
Or just a beautiful disaster?

She didn't think she have a normal relationship with Murtagh after what had happened when Thorn had hatched. He seemed to live on the edge all the time. He had taken humungous risks, none of which had paid-off for him. All it had gotten him was a delay to a tighter slavery than he could have ever imagined. Or maybe he could imagine that. Maybe she just couldn't. Nasuada had never thought of herself as innocent but compared to Murtagh, she was. She knew she could never imagine being so controlled. She had lived with relative freedom all her life. She knew all that Murtagh's risk had given her was confused feelings and a broken heart.

I'm longing for love and the logical,
But he's only happy hysterical.
I'm waiting for some kind of miracle.
Waited so long,
So long.

She looked down at his face again. His hair seemed to be bothering him as he was blowing on it. He rolled over again. Nasuada did something so unbelievably stupid: she reached out and smoothed his hair out of his eyes. His hair was softer than she'd thought it would be. So was his unscratched skin. It was too much for her, yet she wanted to touch him again.

He's soft to the touch,
But frayed at the end he breaks.
He's never enough,
And still he's more than I can take.

"Murtagh," she sobbed, "why did you have to turn into his slave? Why did you leave me alone? Why did you have to do this to me?" She knew it was stupid to cry over things like this. She knew she was being childish. She knew Murtagh couldn't help it. She managed to stop the tears.

Oh 'cause I don't know
I don't know what is after
But he's so beautiful
Such a beautiful disaster
And if I could hold on
Through the tears and the laughter
Would it be beautiful?
Or just a beautiful disaster

Murtagh stirred again. He opened his hazel eyes and looked up at her.

"Nasuada?" he asked incredulously.

She nodded.

"I'm dreaming," he muttered. "I suppose I deserve a good dream before death."

Nasuada couldn't say anything.

Murtagh sat up and met her eyes. "I love you Nasuada," he whispered as he leaned in to kiss her. She gasped as his lips met hers. She didn't know how long they stayed like that. He slid his tongue into her mouth. She lightly touched against it, and then withdrew it. She broke the kiss trembling. She had wanted that for so long. She wished she hadn't done that.

"Murtagh, I can't," she whispered.

He looked at her as though he understood.

"I'm sorry," she heard him say as she ran out the door. Nasuada didn't know what he was sorry for. She doubted he knew what he was sorry for. But, oh Gods, he was beautiful.

Beautiful
(Beautiful disaster)
Beautiful disaster