Disclaimer: I do not own the Inheritance Cycle nor any of Paolini's characters but the plot is my own.
WARNING: Mild blood and Violence Ahead
A/N: The rating has changed to M for the saftey of viewers. Sorry about any inconvenience :(
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One year later
"Okay, you can do this, no big deal," Murtagh instructed himself. But the reality was that it was a huge deal. It was dusk now and he was at his bedroom desk, about to open the two letters he received from Uru'baen University and Varden University. First, he rechecked the lock on his door and only after reassuring himself that it was so sat down on his bed.
This was it. If he didn't get into either college, there was no turning back. The bag pills he had been amassing for the past year was tucked behind his nightstand. However, getting into one of colleges would prolong his the other hand, he may finally get a chance to truly live. He would no longer have to cower in fear of his father's shadow. And maybe he'd meet his childhood best friend Thorn again. He'd gotten into both but prefered Varden.
After much internal argument, Murtagh finally decided to open his letters. Better not face his death in vain. He was tearing the seal now. Seemingly of its own accord, his hand reached into the envelope and shakingly pulled out the folded white paper. On it read…
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"Blast taxes" Morzan growled under his breath, "Those greedy government officials will do anything to get more of my money." Taxes, though, were not the sole reason for his foul mood.
As he sat in the leather armchair which adorned his lavish personal study, his mind wandered to the reason of his distress. His good for nothing son should be receiving his letter from the Universities sometime soon.
At times, he would wonder why he bothered to keep the devil child who was the cause of his wife's accident. The only reason was because he was the last living part of Selena. On the night after her funeral, he'd thrown all of her material possessions away in drunken rage. Whenever he looked at him, how couldn't he help but loathe and love the boy simultaneously? But the loathe he had for him vastly exceeded the little love left in his heart. How could he forget that Murtagh was the reason for the love of his life lying in a grave that very moment?
Upon this thought, Morzan remembered the vow he made to himself all those years ago, 'I will punish him for the rest of his life as payment for Selena's.'
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Murtagh exhaled. He was outside the door to his father's private study. After calming himself as best as he could, he mustered up the courage to knock twice.
A curt 'Enter' could be heard from the other side. The grand teak door swung open on its well oiled hinges. Murtagh shifted uncomfortably as fell under the full force of his father's scrutiny.
While averting his eyes, they landed on the floor to ceiling mahogany shelves behind Morzan's matching desk. Polished and glistening on them lay his many trophies, awards, prized possessions and personal library. The two that stuck out most in his mind were his father's collection of black belts earned in numerous martial arts and the deadly family heirloom: a red fencing saber. That sword has been the cause of his nightmares ever since it was first bathed in his blood so many years ago.
"F-Father, I've received the letter fr-from U-Uru'baen University and...I wasn't accepted b-but I m-made it into Varden University instead," stuttered the son.
Immediately, Morzan rose to his feet, knocking down his chair in the process, and unsheathed his saber. As he felt the edge of the blade, checking its sharpness, he spoke in an eerily calm voice "For the past four generations, the Hvass family's men have all attended Uru'Baen University as it is the only one suitable for people of our stature." His voice had an edge to it now and was gaining volume, "My father fought in the war yet still managed to maintain the tradition."
Morzan was facing him now. Suddenly, his right cheek was alight with pain. When did he get on the floor? His father grabbed a fistful of his hair and tilted his head to face him. Murtagh could see the fiery rage in his heterochromic eyes. The black one was filled with pure fury whily the icy blue one spoke of cold vengeance.
His voice was a low snarl now, "I thought that for once, maybe you'd actually do something right, but clearly I was wrong! I have tried teaching you all the family traditions- Karate, Fencing even Chess but you fail at them all. You dishonour the noble Hvass blood."
Murtagh felt the cold steel press against his neck now, digging into his skin. Morzan was furiously shouting, "For years now, I've wanted to make you pay for what you've done. You are the reason Selena's dead. DEAD! And that's all. Your. Fault. Now you're going to suffer a fraction of what I have every night for the past fifteen years."
Morzan released his hold on Murtagh and began circling him, with the sword point still pressed firmly on his neck. The breath was knocked out of Murtagh as he was kicked face-down on the floor. He could hear the sound of cloth ripping and felt the cool rush of air on his back.
"Ah. Remember this?" Morzan jeered "Surely you haven't forgotten about the first time this very saber -Zar'roc - tasted your blood?"
How could he forget when he saw it every night in his nightmares? When he looked in the mirror and saw the ugly scar stretching across his back from the tip of his left shoulder to the base of his right hip? Morzan then used the point of the blade to trace the same path of the scar, drawing a fine line of blood.
Agony. That was what he felt. Not just pain but complete and utter agony. His back was on fire. The cut was shallow but he suspected that the cleaning agents used to polish to the blade were mixing into his blood. He wasn't sure for how much longer he'd have coherent thought. Even now the pain made his mind fuzzy.
Briefly, he saw his father rest the sword just out of his reach as if to mock him. He turned around searching for his collection of Ra'zac knives on the many shelves. Murtagh knew that he had to do it now or else he may never live to see another chance. Or worse yet, Morzan would inflict upon him a fate worse than death.
Summoning his steadily receding strength, he dragged himself forward and let his fingers curl around the iron hilt. A spike of adrenaline flowed through every part of his body as he lifted Zar'roc and got to his feet. In the process, the blade clanged against the metal legs of the table and alerted Morzan to his intentions.
"You really want to fight me?" Morzan snarled incredulously. "Alright, let's fight!"
He grabbed the unsheathed poignard dagger from his desk and lunged at Murtagh's stomach. He barely moved the saber in time to block his father's thrusts. But even then, he was steadily losing blood from the strain he put on himself. A few times, Morzan was able to slash at Murtagh's arms and eventually, backed him against the desk. Murtagh was too weak to resist now and let the saber drop to the floor.
"It seems as if I've won again dear Murtagh. What would you like to say?" Morzan leered.
As Murtagh grabbed a knife from the table behind him, he choked out "Go to Hell!" and threw himself on top of Morzan dragging him to the floor. Finally, he thrice plunged the knife into what was left of the old demon's heart.
Murtagh was hyperventilating now. He had done it. He had killed his father and yet...one question remained. "Why?" he whispered. That was the first time he saw it. The blood which had stained his hands. The blood which spurted into his face. The blood of another, yet still his. How very...red it all looked. Red.
He could vaguely hear the sound of a maid screaming in the distance before he slipped into unconsciousness next to his father with the knife still in hand.
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TO BE CONTINUED! Remember to review. The gang will definitely come in the next one but this chapter was necessary to plot development in the story.
