"Rïsa."

The book lay inanimate on the table.

The King sighed and reclined in his chair. "Try again."

Murtagh did try, and it was infuriating. Everything that he had wanted to do in the past had more or less come easily to him. Sword fighting, hunting, horseback riding. He found if he tried hard enough, he could master it. Except magic.

"Rïsa!" He growled with ferocity. The book trembled slightly and returned to its motionless state. His lips twitched in triumph. It had taken a few hours, but he was beginning to get results.

"It's a start, but not good enough. I want it in the air. Try again."


By the time Murtagh retired to his chambers he was exhausted. The book had trembled often, but it wasn't until he finally managed to lift it a couple centimetres off the table that the King called it a day. He shut the door behind him and examined the room.

The window was dark behind the curtains, the only light in the room came from the flameless lanterns mounted into the walls. A glimpse of red caught his attention and he looked to see Thorn stick his head out from under the bed.

You've grown. Murtagh said as he flopped onto the bed. He was surprised by how quickly the hatchling was developing, he had grown half his size since he hatched. It wasn't a surprise that he was growing quickly, but Murtagh suspected it was too quick, that maybe Galbatorix was interfering so that he would be big enough to fight Saphira as soon as possible.

Thorn projected prideful—if not slightly confused—emotions about his growth as he jumped up beside him on the bed. The dragon crawled onto his stomach and rested his head on his chest. Murtagh winced as the talons dug into his flesh, but reached out and stroked Thorns side affectionately.

He expected Thorn to struggle with his accelerated growth, but the creature held himself well, with only an occasional stumble. Thorn had been in his chambers all day, as he was still too young to train, or communicate. Murtagh looked forward to the breaks in his day when he could visit and feed Thorn, and at night when the dragon curled up beside him on the bed, despite having a monstrously sized depression in the floor lined with soft blankets for him to sleep.

Murtagh reached for a pillow, so exhausted that he was willingly to sleep sideways while fully dressed, and coped a handful of feathers. Taken aback he looked to see the pillow he had reached for had been ripped open in the middle, the material covered in small tears.

"Thorn!" He scolded and sat up, causing Thorn to jump off him in confusion. He gave the pillow a once over but decided it was beyond repair. Gathering the feathers he pushed them back into ruined material and stuffed it under the bed, guessing he could fix it later depending on what he learnt in his magic lessons.

Thorn sat on the edge of the bed, his head bent low, knowing from the scolding and from Murtagh's emotions over their bond that he was in trouble. Seeing him submissive caused a pang of guilt, Murtagh knew that he shouldn't be locked up in their bed chambers all day, but there was nowhere else for him to go.

A knock stole Murtagh's attention and he watched as a servant entered the bedchambers holding two trays. He placed them on the bedside table and left. Murtagh passed over the tray with a pie, cheese and vegetables for the tray with a dome. He lifted it from table and placed it on his lap and wondered why Thorns tray had a cover. He found out when he removed it.

Two dozen mice squeaked and ran in all directions. Murtagh shouted in surprise and pushed the tray from his lap where it clattered on the floor. He cursed it as a trick before he saw Thorn. The young dragon moved quicker than he had seen before. He leapt from the bed, wings tucked close and crashed on top of a mouse. He snapped at the creatures head and tore it off with one sharp tug. Murtagh heard the skull crunch twice then Thorn swallowed and moved onto the body. Once done he looked around the room, there were plenty of mice but they had quickly hidden, though Thorn had plenty of time. Murtagh sighed at the bloody mess the dragon had left and reached for his own tray. At least now Thorn wouldn't be bored.


Lorena was visited by her handmaidens again that night, after a quick meal they gave her nightly bath and dressed her in another silken nightgown. Following that afternoon Lorena tried to ask them about themselves, but they gave short polite answers, as if uncomfortable, so she gave up.

When they left she sat in an arm chair and thought about what had happened with Murtagh. She smiled to herself as she remembered what his consciousness had felt like, and wondered what would have happened if they had dared to delve deeper. She jumped as a hand touched her shoulder and turned to see Galbatorix standing over her. She had been so preoccupied with what happened earlier that she hadn't noticed him enter the chambers.

"Did you have a good day?" He smiled, revealing his straight white teeth. Lorena felt instantly sick, sure that he had found out about her wander through the castle. She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. To her surprise the King sat beside her.

"How old are you?" she blurted without thinking.

The King glanced at her before shifting his gaze to the courtyard. "Don't you know it's rude to ask someone their age?" Lorena bit her lip and lowered her eyes. "I'm one hundred and thirty three."

"How is that possible?" Lorena blanched, "You look so young yet are old enough to be my… great-great-great-grandfather."

If Galbatorix was offended by the statement he didn't show it. "I've got many more years left."

"So it's true that Riders become immortal."

"It is true. Shruikan and I will live on forever, and so will Murtagh and Thorn."

Suddenly feeling numb, Lorena wrapped her arms around herself. Murtagh is immortal. She had learnt from Eragon that dragons and their riders lived forever but she hadn't been sure she believed it, now it was too much of a reality. She would unquestionably die in the next forty years, but Murtagh would remain. "It's hard to believe that you can't die."

"I didn't say we can't die. I said we're immortal. Age cannot touch us, but a blade or poison can." He reached out and tucked a wavy lock behind her ear. "If we don't have wards protecting us."

Lorena ignored the gesture, "And you have wards?"

"Of course," Galbatorix laughed at her absurd question, "I would not have lasted as long as I have if I didn't protect myself. All of my followers have wards on them too."

"Even Murtagh and Thorn?"

"Definitely Murtagh and Thorn. I don't think you realise just how important they are in the world I envision." As if an afterthought he added. "You have wards too."

"Me?" she squeaked and examined her arms as if the magic may somehow be visible. "Since when? What are they?"

"Since you first arrived. They're nothing exciting, mainly to prevent your assassination. You're not to be killed until I decide upon it."

Less than forty, she thought bitterly.

When the King grew tired of their talk he stood. Lorena watched him, knowing what would happen next. She prepared for her usual fight—but right now, despite their talk—not even King Galbatorix could spoil the high she rode from seeing Murtagh that day.


The following days were a repeating pattern.

Lorena fought Galbatorix every morning and night and spent her days in the courtyard. The temptation to go into the castle and find Murtagh was almost overwhelming, but she managed to refrain. After her talk with the King she was frightened that he knew she had left the bedchambers and didn't want to risk being caught outside.

Instead she decided to exercise. The courtyard was big enough to run in so she spent her time stretching and running laps, then to cool off she would dangle her feet in the fountain. She spoke with her handmaidens whenever they visited and soon the women began to relax in her presence, they became willing to speak about themselves and even swapped stories and jokes. Murtagh—and what was happening to him—was constantly playing on her mind and she told herself that after she waited a while—so that the King wouldn't suspect—that she could leave the chambers again, and go find Murtagh.

Murtagh on the other hand didn't have any free time. When he woke in the mornings he pushed Thorn off him and they ate breakfast before Murtagh went to the west library. He managed to lift the book off the table consistently on the second day and after that Galbatorix gave him other exercises, which he quickly overcame.

In the afternoons he made his way to the training grounds and sparred against the new weapons master. The older man was no match for Murtagh, but he was hardened veteran who taught him a few tricks. Whilst travelling through the castle Murtagh happened upon few old friends and more old enemies. Though, with his new title of Dragon Rider and Right Hand of the King they all greeted him the same, with a polite bow. Once he would have been displeased with the change but now he didn't mind, because no one argued when he hurried off without forcing niceties.

He kept his eye out in the halls for Lorena, but didn't manage to find her. Either they were unlucky enough not to perchance upon each other or she had decided to wait a while before roaming the halls again. For safety reasons he hoped it was the later. Between lessons Murtagh spent his time with Thorn, feeding the young dragon and bonding with him. He grew incredibly fast and when he finally reached a week old the creature was almost four times as big as he was when he hatched.


Authors Note:

I hope you enjoyed the chapter, originally it featured a conversation between Murtagh and Thorn but after completing it I realised that I made a mistake with the timeline—Thorn is not yet old enough to communicate—so you'll get that later.

I don't know why but for some reason I felt the need to write about the time I accidentally met Christopher Paolini, so if you're interested I've added a link—since I can't post it on this website—to the story. It just details how and where I met him, our conversation, and what he threatened to do to me. Feel free to give it a read and see how much of a fangirl I am.

story/24635264-my-encounter-with-christopher-paolini