Disclaimer: Don't own Eragon.

Alrighty, here's the long-awaited Murtagh chapter! I am really going to have a hard time incorporating foreshadowing without the third book out, so the sequel to this fic (yes there will be a sequel) might come out a long time from now. Then again, it might not. But either way I have another Eragon fic in the making as well as several other fics I put on hold during the production of this one. Anyway, enjoy this chapter!

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The dwarf hit his fist on the door three times before working on the heavy bolt. Alycie glanced at the large man leaning on a battle-ax. He smiled at her congenially. She returned the smile, surprised by the good feelings surrounding what was supposed to be a cell. He turned his eyes to Ferros.

"How's the easy life, Ferros?" he asked. Ferros summoned a look of utmost ecstasy.

"It's wonderful beyond description. No late night patrols and no days without food; it's like living in a dream." The guard laughed as the dwarf unbolted the door. Ferros leaned close to Alycie's ear. "It's utterly boring, but better to keep them jealous." Alycie smirked. The gray door swung open and Alycie entered, closely followed by Ferros.

"Alycie!" came a joyful shout. Alycie suddenly found herself being lifted into the air in an all to familiar embrace. She wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his neck. She felt his lips on her forehead and his arms around her waist. After a minute, he lowered her back to the ground.

"Murtagh," she said, leaning her face on his chest. The sound of the door closing behind them stirred something in her mind. She opened her eyes and turned around to see Ferros standing awkwardly behind her, arms crossed. She smiled. "Ferros, this is Murtagh. Murtagh, this is my escort, Ferros." Murtagh regarded Ferros with a level, calculating gaze.

"Ferros," he repeated. "You're her guard?"

"Er...yes," said Ferros. "I have orders to keep an eye on her." Murtagh raised an eyebrow and Alycie felt him tense. She looked around his cell. It didn't look like any cell she'd ever seen. In the center sat a large, well-dressed bed. On the floor was a plush rug, and there was a writing desk in the corner littered with ink and scrolls. On the other side of the room was a washbin. All in all, the room seemed cheery and welcoming, aside from the lack of windows. Murtagh looked down, noting her expression.

"Surprised?" he asked. Alycie nodded. "So was I. But as long as I don't cause trouble, Ajihad's entitled me to all of this."

"But you can't go where you want to," she noted. Murtagh shrugged.

"Even if I were free to, I would probably stay in my room," he said. "I doubt the majority of Tronjheim's population would be comfortable with my presence knowing my identity. I would have to stick to the shadows and remain in hiding to avoid those with deep grudges."

"But you would be able to stay with me," said Alycie. Murtagh nodded with a sigh.

"That is something I wish I could do," he said, kissing her forehead softly. Alycie turned her head, looking at Ferros pointedly. He nodded, banging on the gray door. It opened and he slipped out, closing it once more. She looked back at Murtagh, leaning up and kissing his cheek. He was staring at the door. "I don't like him," he said, turning his gaze to look at the healing scrapes on her neck.

"He's honorable," said Alycie. "And he's the first friend I've made here so far. He's nice, decent, he has morality..." She drifted off. Murtagh nodded, though his eyes flickered slightly.

"You know, you're not the first one to visit," he said. "Nasuada, Ajihad's daughter, came earlier today. Have you met her?"

"...No..." said Alycie, furrowing her brow slightly.

"Ah, you should see her. She looks as if she were one of the great noble ladies of Galbatorix's court. Better. Her beauty put the noblewomen to shame. And she walked with such a grace you never did see." He smiled reminiscently, though Alycie sensed the intended cold behind it. She pushed away from him, her eyes filling with hurt.

"Why do you do this?" she asked. He looked down at her stonily.

"I am merely stating the truth," he said with a shrug. Alycie looked away, the long lost tears springing to her eyes. She turned away and walked to the bed, sitting on its edge.

She raised a hand impatiently to her eyes, brushing the tears away. They came back. How she had grown to spite them so much in such a short time was amazing. They made her feel weak. Murtagh's cold resilience seemed to melt at the sight and he walked to her side, sitting down and sliding an arm around her comfortingly.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean that." His hand stroked her hair and she turned, sniffing.

"I never cry," she said, hiccuping. "But last night I did for the first time since before I can remember because I missed you. And now...I can't stop..."

She closed her eyes and two more tears leaked out, sliding down her face. Murtagh wiped them away with a caring hand, pulling her in close to his chest. She buried her face in it. He stroked her hair soothingly.

"I'm sorry," he said again. "I shouldn't have said that. I got jealous."

"I'm not angry," said Alycie, hiccuping again. Murtagh sighed, smiling.

"Let's forget this argument," he said. "What have you been doing?" Alycie told him briefly about her meeting with Angela and the Twins' invitation. Murtagh's face darkened at the latter portion of the story. "I don't trust those two," he said. "There's something terribly suspicious about them."

"I know what you mean," said Alycie. "They seem linked to one another, though that could be from the fact that they are twins." Murtagh shrugged. He glanced at the door.

"Does your guard know who I am? He seemed...oddly at ease when he was in here."

"He doesn't know," said Alycie. "I don't think Ajihad informed him."

"He will find out soon enough," said Murtagh. He sighed. "Why must the son carry on the burden of the sins of the father?" Alycie didn't speak, looking into his face piteously. He blinked and looked at her. "I've never heard anything of your parentage."

"You never asked," said Alycie. "I don't think about it often."

"I think about mine constantly," said Murtagh, lying back on the bed. Alycie lay against him, playing with the material of his tunic absent mindedly.

"I never had cause to think of them," she said.

"Do you know who they were?" asked Murtagh.

"Yes," said Alycie. "Are you asking to know?" Murtagh laughed.

"Yes," he said. Alycie gave a small smile.

"My mother was a street rat from birth. She had relatives in high places, I hear, but I don't know who they were. My father was one of those people just passing through. He stayed a night, got very, very drunk, along with my mother, and the next day he was gone." Murtagh propped himself up on his elbow.

"Do you know anything else about him?" he asked. Alycie shook her head.

"No. He wasn't my blood father, though. He was Garrick's," she said.

"Garrick is your half brother?" asked Murtagh.

"I consider him a complete brother," said Alycie. " And I consider that man as much of a father as mine was. My father went in, went out, and that was it. I don't think he knows about me. My mother died giving birth, and I was left in Garrick's hands. I'm not sure if he's still living or not, but if he is, he's in Urû'baen. Garrick's blood father is dead for sure."

"How do you know?" asked Murtagh.

"Mother told Garrick that one bit of information about them. Apparently his father was captured by some soldiers in Urû'baen in a fight," said Alycie. "After my mother died, Garrick dropped me with a local who had also had a child, so that I may nurse properly. Her child died of illness, however, and she banished Garrick and I from her doorstep in distress. We met other urchins and orphans of the streets and lived for about seven years as a family amongst them. We were happy. Poor, dirty, and hated, but happy. And then the soldiers raided the streets, catching nearly all of us and locking us up. Some of the boys were spirited off to the capital to become soldiers, while the rest of us were put up for auction. Garrick and I were separated, and you know the rest." She looked at Murtagh, who was silent.

"I'm sorry," he said after a while. Alycie shook her head.

"It's ancient matter gone and passed," she said carelessly. Murtagh sat up.

"Hearing your story, mine sounds almost like heaven," he said. Alycie laughed.

"Your heaven acts as hell now though," she said, sitting up and looking at Murtagh. He looked her up and down, a grin spreading across his face.

"Stand up," he said. Alycie cocked an eyebrow, but got to her feet. Murtagh crossed his arms, nodding in approval. "You look beautiful," he said finally.

"And I didn't before?" asked Alycie. Murtagh got to his feet.

"No, no," he said, stepping closer to her. "The dress adds to your already stunning loveliness."

"You've seen me in a dress before," said Alycie. Murtagh scoffed.

"The dress you cut up to look like a whore?" he asked. Alycie smirked. She stepped back from Murtagh, looking up and down at his form.

"Well you clean up nice too," she said mockingly. "I've never seen you in a shirt and pants before." Murtagh laughed sarcastically.

Alycie was secretly impressed at his appearance, though she mocked it. Murtagh had been given a clean, nice-looking, indigo shirt and long, leather pants, and his greasy hair had been washed along with his face, which was wiped free of grime and dirt. He looked more handsome than ever.

"So what, in your safe and secure cell, have you been doing all day long?" asked Alycie.

"Mostly sleeping and missing you," said Murtagh. "But I've been writing." He pointed at the writing desk in the corner.

"Writing what?" asked Alycie. Murtagh shrugged.

"Anything that came to mind," he said. Alycie walked to the desk and sat in front of it, examining a quill in interest. Murtagh guided her hand to the inkbottle, helping her dip the feather and fill it. "You remember how to read? Just shape the words with the quill." He let go of her hand and she set it on the parchment. She looked at him.

"I don't know what to write," she said. Murtagh shrugged.

"Close your eyes and let your hand move where it will," he said. Alycie turned back to the paper, closing her eyes. She thought, picturing the words in her mind. Her hand began to curve and move in what the letters' shapes looked like. She opened her eyes when she'd finished and, wincing at the sloppy penmanship, lifted the parchment to her eyes to read. She squinted at the words.

Two falen do
A vixen spy
And draw their bows
Let arrows fly
One doth meet heart
The other head
But dog bites one
And renders dead

"Interesting," said Murtagh, reading as well. "You spelled fallen wrong. It has two l's. That was quick for such a long poem. Where did you hear it?" Alycie looked at him.

"I didn't," she said. "I didn't even know what I wrote until it was there." Murtagh raised an eyebrow, looking at the ink shapes.

"Strange," he said. "Try again." Alycie took another slip of parchment, closing her eyes to think. Her hand began to move. Once more she opened her eyes when she had stopped.

A ghost it seems
In armor clad
Is chained to one
Who is but mad
With shining blade
And palm as well
It fights the first
On plains of hell

"Alycie, where are these coming from?" asked Murtagh when he finished reading it. Alycie shrugged. He bent down, looking at the parchment closer. "You didn't think of it as you wrote?"

"No," said Alycie. "Is that bad?"

"Take them to Angela," said Murtagh, rolling the parchments up and handing them to her. "See what she thinks of them."

"Why?" asked Alycie, furrowing her brow as she stood.

"They seem...odd," said Murtagh. He glanced at her. "Just do it." Alycie shrugged.

"Alright," she said. Three loud bangs sounded on the door, making them jump.

"I think your guard thinks it time to leave," said Murtagh, straightening.

"It seems as if I've been here for hours," said Alycie. She embraced Murtagh, who returned the gesture. He kissed her lips passionately, then moving to whisper in her ear.

"Don't leave," he said.

"I should," said Alycie. "I'll return tomorrow."

"I love you," said Murtagh, looking her in the eye. Alycie opened her mouth to answer, but the door swung open, revealing the bulky dwarf guard.

"You aren't plotting anything important are you?" he asked jovially. His eyes turned to Alycie. "Your time here is up. Visitors must leave the cells after dark."

"Is it dark already?" asked Alycie. The guard nodded. She turned to Murtagh, embracing him tightly once again, before turning and walking to the door. She cast a last glance over her shoulder to see Murtagh standing in the middle of the room, watching her go with the same expression he had borne in Ajihad's study. The door closed, and he was gone.

Ferros led her stiffly out to Vol Turin, walking with her up through the levels. Alycie noted his slight rigidity with some curiosity. They paused a few levels down from their destination, resting against the marble wall. Alycie looked at the guard.

"What is it?" she asked. Ferros looked at her, then out at Isidar Mithrim.

"Not now," he said in an undertone. Alycie remained suspicious.

They climbed the remaining stairs, turning down the hallway. Ferros accompanied Alycie into her room, closing the door cautiously. He turned to her as she crossed her arms.

"Now what is it?" she asked.

"Murtagh," he said. "The warriors guarding his cell told me he is the son of Morzan the Forsworn."

"I told you he had a good reason for not being probed," said Alycie.

"And yet your greeting of him was so..."

"Passionate?" supplied Alycie. Ferros nodded. Alycie shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "We have feelings for one another."

"Feelings for a Forsworn?" asked Ferros. Alycie frowned.

"He is not a Forsworn," she said defensively. Ferros regarded her.

"You think he is a good man?" he asked.

"I know he is," replied Alycie. Ferros paused.

"Then I'll take your word for it," he said. Alycie blinked, surprised.

"Really?" she asked. Ferros nodded.

"You've known him longer and have a better understanding of him than I do, so, instead of prejudice, I'll follow your opinion." Alycie didn't know what to say.

"Erm...thank you...for your...understanding..." she said awkwardly. Ferros smiled, nodding.

"It's nothing," he said, turning and walking towards the door. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," said Alycie. The door closed, and she was left alone. She flopped back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Ferros had proven himself a true friend. And she had only known him for a day. As she closed her eyes and let sleep take her, Murtagh's parting words echoed back to her.

I love you

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