This one ended up being a bit longer than I expected, but overall I am happy with it. To the reviewers: Thank you so much! And yes, I was just thinking about that. I might try to incorporate the sword more in the sequel I am planning (haven't decided yet). But until then I threw a little something into this chapter. You also gave me a pretty good idea for the next chapter, so thanks. : )

Warning: LOTS of torture. Physical and psychological. In fact I think I'll bump the rating up to M for this fic b/c of this chapter. I warned you all I was a sadist :D

Ch. 4: Suffering

The whip whistled through the air and Murtagh did his best to hold his tongue as pain jolted across his back. The guards had arrived not too long ago, waking him with a swift kick to the gut. With little explanation, they had stripped him and left him kneeling on the floor and at the mercy of the king. Now Galbatorix towered behind him, gripping a long, braided cord. Murtagh wondered briefly why they had not strung him up.

He probably just enjoys watching me squirm, he thought in disgust. Another lash cut across his thoughts and he clenched his teeth, willing himself to stay silent and still. He would not give in so easily. A scowl disfigured the king's face as Murtagh continued to resist.

Your defiance is futile, Galbatorix's voice reverberated painfully inside Murtagh's head. You bring nothing but needless pain on yourself, and on your dragon. Suddenly, he could sense that his partner was in agony too. The bastard was using his torture spell to hurt Thorn.

Leave him out of this! he yelled mentally, glaring over his shoulder at the king. He had nothing to do with my decision. But Galbatorix ignored his pleading. The whip flew through the air again with a harsh crack as the king continued.

You are both to blame. The next time you conspire to disobey me, you should remember that.

Bastard, he responded viciously inside his head.

The king only picked up his pace. Murtagh clenched his fists, gasping as the lashes rained down across his back. He could sense Thorn trying to send him strength through their bond. But the partner of his heart had only so much to give. Sickening waves of pain rebounded wildly across their bond as Galbatorix continued to torture the young dragon with magic.

Murtagh could no longer will himself to stay silent. His screams echoed off the stone walls as he was brutally whipped. Yet Galbatorix's arm did not tire. His endurance was almost impressive. Please, Murtagh thought desperately to himself. Please, let it be over soon. Let me pass out. But the king would not allow it. Instead, he hovered on the edges of his mind, forcing him to stay awake. He could no longer feel Thorn, who must have blocked their connection to spare him more pain. The king continued until Murtagh could feel himself going numb and he worried there might be permanent damage.

Finally, Galbatorix relented. Murtagh lay on the floor in a bloody heap, gasping as exhaustion swept over him. But the king would not allow him a reprieve from consciousness just yet. A presence brushed up harshly against his mind. Murtagh tried to withdraw, but the king chased him down, pulling out memory after memory, pitting his emotions against him. One by one his friends flashed before his eyes, as the king turned his memories of them into nightmares.

~~~ His brother stood before him on the Burning Plains, hatred filling his eyes. "I am nothing like you!" he proclaimed. Eragon stabbed him through the heart, twisting their father's sword into him. As he reeled in pain, a hand gripped his shoulder and turned him around. Nasuada stared into his eyes, her beautiful, dark skin shining in the light of the fires burning all around them. Suddenly, her eyes widened in shock as she looked down between them. He could feel himself gripping something, and he followed her gaze, expecting to see Zar'roc's hilt. He realized with horror that the sword was lodged in her abdomen. He could not loosen his grip on the hilt as she struggled against him, a pained grimace twisting her face. "How could you? How could you betray us?" Her eyes glassed over and her face suddenly disappeared. He lost his grip and fell backwards. He was surrounded by them now. Eragon, Tornac, Nasuada, Ajihad, Arya, the whole Varden, every man he'd killed in battle, every innocent he'd been forced to kill by the tyrant king. All towered above him, staring down accusingly.

He shouted up at them. "I never wanted this. Please, I tried!" He didn't know what he was trying to prove, only that guilt was overwhelming him. They stared back at him silently, with unforgiving eyes. The fires around them flared up impossibly high, and Murtagh struggled to breath. The people around him screamed horribly as their skin began to melt off. The smell of burning flesh assaulted him. He could not look away. He could not close his eyes. ~~~

The vision finally abated, leaving him violently retching on the dungeon floor.

"Your so-called friends abandoned you," the king said. "They didn't come for you before, and they won't come now. You are nothing but a traitor to them." Murtagh gasped, his throat burning. He tried to ignore the king's words, but he couldn't help but feel the painful truth in them. Now that he had faced his brother in battle and killed members of the Varden, he knew he could never go back to any of them as a friend.

"You are alone," the king continued. "But you don't have to be." His voice suddenly softened. "Stand beside me, and we could end this childish rebellion. We could rebuild the riders, and start of new age of prosperity. We could have peace for once, and you would be the hero who helped create it. You and Thorn would be loved and adored throughout the kingdom-"

Don't listen to him, young one. A tired voice interjected.

Thorn, he thought weakly. He must have reopened their connection once he realized what was happening.

He is a liar. You -

External rage cut across their bond, silencing them both.

You will pay for that. Galbatorix intoned dangerously, unleashing his spell of agony on the young dragon once more. Anger rose inside Murtagh as the king began to torture Thorn again. He could not stand feeling his partner suffer, but he could not move or fight back. Instead, he lashed out mentally. He charged recklessly at the king's mental defenses. To no one's surprise he was easily deflected, but Galbatorix paused to look down at him in astonishment. Never had Murtagh been brazen or stupid enough to go after the king's mind.

He glared down at Murtagh. "You continue to prove yourself worse than useless," he stated with derision. "If that doesn't change soon, I might just decide you're not worth keeping around at all. Better you were dead than a liability, after all."

Murtagh's eyes widened. That possibility had not occurred to him. No. You wouldn't… he began, though he was unsure.

"What, you think yourself irreplaceable?" The king asked mockingly. Galbatorix raised his palm again, slowly moving towards him.

Fear suddenly coursed through Murtagh. He's not really going to kill me? he thought. But the man continued his advance. Weakly, Murtagh tried to crawl away, though he knew it was useless. The chain still wrapped around his ankle soon stopped him short, though he struggled against it.

"Pathetic," the king taunted, following after him. The king's hand hovered over him thoughtfully. "I have complete power over you now," he goaded. "I could easily kill you."

Murtagh waited, his head bowed. He clenched his eyes shut in anticipation. Is this how I'm going to die? Chained up like a dog? He felt sick.

But the killing blow never came. Instead, a heavy boot crashed into his side. He tried to roll away, but he could not escape as the next strike landed painfully. "On second thought," the king spoke with glee, "perhaps I will only kill Thorn. If I can't use him on the battlefield, he is worthless to me anyways. And I'll get the added satisfaction of watching you suffer."

The man viciously kicked him over and over. Soon the sound of bones cracking joined Murtagh's painful cries and began to cough up blood. Mad laughter echoed around the chamber as the king landed one final kick to his face, knocking him unconscious.