This one gave me such trouble, because everyone is changing and realizing and everything; this is the only one I'd even started before this week. But I think I got it.
More importantly, this chapter is only five and a half hours late. And, since I couldnt' update for the passed two weeks, I've put up the preview for an awesome video I'm doing about ALL THREE of my stories. It's under the title 'Savin Me,' so just search 'savin me lovincopperpot' and it'll come up. Hope you like it.
Murtagh awoke to an annoying, off-beat song filling the room. He sniffed, flexing his back carefully to test his muscles while simultaneously reaching with his mind toward Thorn, Thorn? Murtagh found a contented mind waiting for him, Thorn, what happened? Are you alright?
He could feel Thorn's response before Thorn had bothered to think it, and so Thorn instead chose a more… interesting thing to say, Liaden healed you. Murtagh froze as Thorn quickly flashed the memory of homecoming for Murtagh to see.
Instead of questioning Thorn, Murtagh shot up in bed, his eyes opening to meet one of his guard's, and immediately the infernal humming ceased, "The Lady Liaden healed me?" The guard froze, but then nodded, as if too horrified by being caught humming to speakBut Murtagh had better things to worry about than what his guard had been pulled at his shirt for a few frenzied seconds before remembering that Galbatorix had stabbed him in the thigh. Too involved in himself to care about the guard and whatever impression he may be making, Murtagh pulled at his pants, searching his thigh before his heart stopped. A scar.
Calm, Murtagh; she'd never even floated a pebble but she somehow figured out how to heal you. I think you should be more thankful than worried about a scar. Murtagh growled in a strange, animalistic way as he pulled his pants up, simultaneously hopping out of bed.
"Where is the Lady Liaden?"
"She promised to return in fifteen minutes time."
"Huh?" Murtagh was less surprised to hear the guard speaking English as he was to hear the she was… on her way.
She's been worried about you, idiot, Thorn's laughter filled his head. She hasn't left your side before now; she left to get some food for herself. I can tell her you're awake. I'm sure she'll be glad to hear it.
Murtagh shook his head, ignoring the fact that Thorn couldn't see the gesture as he huffed passed the guard and down the hall, trying to decide if Liaden would be waiting for her food in the Dining Hall or if she was strange enough to insist upon making something for herself. Either way she would be in the same corner of the castle, but he'd rather get to her sooner. He wasn't even sure what he was mad at her about – she'd healed him, and allegedly sat at his bedside.
Upon hearing her singing words to the tune that the guard had been humming, and realizing that no one had ever sat by his bedside before, Murtagh froze. She'd… sat by his bedside. She was… what was she waiting for? To see if he got worse? To comfort him in case he woke up? He could hear her, singing some strange song in the kitchen, clacking around and distracting him. Had she… actually been worried?
"It's a love story – baby just say ye-" My voice gave out as I finished pushing the door open with my rear end, leaving a very disgruntled cook behind and, instead, running into a very confused looking Murtagh. I almost dropped my sandwich, but freezing seemed the better option. For a moment I stood there, kitchen door propped open with my body, my mouth gaping like a fish. I mean, I didn't think he'd die while I was gone or anything, but I also didn't plan on his waking up and… being hungry.
Despite whatever instinct I had that told me to not rejoice a little, probably instinct based on the little bit of Emerson that was always with me, I threw my food and drink haphazardly onto the table and scooted up and into Murtagh's limp arms, the hug very much reflecting the one we'd attempted to share when the Urgals had beaten Emerson last week. Only this time when I lost my balance I gave up on hugging him and instead fell back onto my feet.
"You must be starving," I feel like a mother goose, "Please, sit down, eat; I can make myself another sandwich in no time." Now that I don't have to get into a fight with the cook about letting me make my own food. He wanted to roast an entire turkey for me! Does that scream 'ridiculous overkill' to anyone else? Because all I see there is the urge to compensate for something.
I'm such a girl.
A few minutes later and I walked back out of the kitchen, fresh sandwich in hand, to find that Murtagh had all of sat down at the table. "You know, of all the things I figured would be weird for you, I never thought eating would be one of them." I'm chipper today, too. Maybe it's because I actually did magic. That's pretty exciting.
"How long was I out?" Murtagh neck snapped to look at me, as if I'd woke him up in the middle of class and he was asking what he'd missed. Some first words to say after I heal you like magic. Oh, wait, it was magic.
"Just for the day," I responded, trying to ignore his… distance. Not physical distance – he's not very touchy feely and I've accepted that, kind of. No, he seems very… mentally distant. Like he's not thinking about what he's doing right now. It's actually kind of interesting; I could probably get a real emotion out of him very easily right now. If I tried, that is. But I think I'll just be happy with the fact that he's awake and alright and his leg still works.
"Did we miss a training session?" I could tell he was looking at me for my response, so I just nodded instead of telling him. Why was missing a training session important? Upon my nodding, there was a loud bang and my sandwich, which I'd taken all of one bite of, shook against its plate. I nearly choked with shock before looking up, my eyebrows reconfiguring to communicate my confusion. "I'd…" Murtagh trailed off. "I'd just… rather not miss a day." He met my gaze awkwardly before looking down at his still untouched sandwich. Obviously looking for something to do, he reached forward and took a large bite of it. He very obviously didn't know how to react. "This is… different."
I snorted; ham and cheese – how novel. "Yeah, hometown recipe." More like home-world, but I think bothering with the specifics will just get me into trouble.
"Your hometown of New York?" Again, I started to choke, my eyes shooting up at him and my mind racing. When the hell did I tell him where I was from? Hold on, hold on, I have to be calm; he might be making something up. It's not that hard to come up with the word 'new' for heaven's sake. I reached out desperately for Emerson, but I was too panicked to make a real connection.
He read my mind! That thought being the only certain explanation I had, I of course jumped headfirst into the accusation, "I can't believe you read my mind!" And, based on the fact that his face very quickly got very red, I'm thinking that I should stop. "I mean, some Lord of a castle you are – what a horrible thing to do to someone! You promised me-" Thinking doesn't necessarily equal doing.
"I did not break my word, Lady Liaden," Murtagh's voice retained that steel-quality that always made me shiver from the sheer lack of emotion, "My encounter with our King reminded me of the facts you imparted to me upon our first meeting." Murtagh looked momentarily smug, but the expression immediately fell away as he took another, smaller bite of the sandwich, "I honestly can't believe I forgot."
"I honestly can't believe I forgot." Murtagh snorted into the drink, shaking his head. Really, though, I put myself through a lot of embarrassment, trying to make believe I was from Philayork. That's just a weird-sounding name. Not to mention I sounded like a complete idiot. Philayork my ass. I ran my tongue carefully over my teeth, considering what this meant for me and Emerson; how much can Murtagh know before we just tell him everything?
"So, would you care to tell me about this… New York?" Feeling awkward about the whole subject, I glanced down at my sandwich before looking back up at Murtagh. His eyebrow was raised carefully, arching in a challenging fashion that was complimented nicely by the small smirk on his lips. I gulped, concentrating on keeping my jaw from dropping in shock at the real expression, which was offered willingly.
EMERSON! Nope, I'm still not calm enough; I'm so on my own it's literally sickening. "It's a, uh…" What's believable? "Um..." Maybe 'it's an um' actually means something. Like, in the Urgal's language. Maybe I can convince Murtagh I'm a genius and I've learned Urgal-ese in the day that he's been knocked out. "Yeah; an um." Oh… I'm just an idiot. That's worse than Philayork.
Murtagh snorted again, "You do realize that I can find it now, right? You mine as well just tell me; I'm only asking to be polite." My brow furrowed, and I felt angry; he was almost treating me like a child, but I was also on edge because something seemed… off. Like he thought he was suddenly all high and mighty because he knew where I'd lived before now. And that's just… not him.
He doesn't even have a clue. I slammed down the goblet, which I'd picked up to take a drink from, and stood in what was supposed to be a threatening manner. I mean, I don't think I can actually threaten Murtagh, but I hope the thought crosses his mind. "Try as hard as you want to find it." I paused, trying to think of something better to say. "Polite my ass – you need to know where I came from so you can try and figure me out." And… turn and storm. Don't bother with the sandwich – there's more ham in that kitchen than you could ever hope to make into sandwiches. Come back later, it'll be an excuse to eat more. EMERSON!!
"You know, I don't quite understand how you can manage to heal a stab wound in my leg, but you can't make a pebble float." I wanted nothing more than to jump into Murtagh's lap and claw at his eyes until he was blind, I was so frustrated and annoyed with him. So much for floating this god damned pebble. "Really, it's very backwards."
"Oh, shut up; can we practice something else?" We haven't even done swordplay! I hate pebbles!
"No; not until you float this thing. It's easy – stenr reisa. We don't have this kind of time to waste!" Why didn't I run away when I had the chance? The Urgals trust me a bit more now, and Murtagh was OUT! I could be gone and not floating pebbles. "Concentrate."
"I am concentrating!" I thundered at him, running my tongue across my teeth quickly before deciding instead to dig my nails into my palms. That way I didn't risk biting my tongue, which could be a problem.
"Oh, really? You're trying as hard as you can to make this pebble float?" I nodded, feeling very defiant and empowered. Murtagh's eyes hardened, but it was hard to make out his face in the shadows. I could tell, though, that he was genuinely angry, "Because if you had been trying I'd suspect you would've at some point said the words."
… Oh. I could feel my face, which I'd been using to glare at him, fell into slight shock. Alright, so I wasn't trying as hard as I could have. I… should probably get Emerson over here. Emerson? Can you come help me out?
You'll have to learn to deal with your teacher on your own, my child; I'm preoccupied. And that was that – Emerson is only just healed; I wasn't going to risk him getting hurt because I was caught in a fib. It's not even a real fib – I was concentrating, I just didn't know what I was doing, and Murtagh didn't walk me through it like Thorn had. He's just a horrible teacher. More importantly, I can't talk to Emerson anymore because he blocked the connection. How does he do it so well?
"Well maybe I was… trying to make it harder. You know, not say it. More interesting, more impressive, mo-"
"More dangerous," Murtagh growled, and I was taken off guard to the point that I fell back onto my palms. I was about to question Murtagh about what he meant, but he broke into a very strained lecture, "Magic was bound to the ancient language by the Grey Folk because before that magic was hazardous and dangerous. A stray thought or a wrong look caused immeasurable havoc and destruction. If you thought about Emerson while you trying to float the pebble you could very well have started to throw him about in the air and hurt him, or hurt yourself with the struggle to control the magic."
"Oh, like you'd care." The words spouted out of my mouth easily; I'm honestly not sure that, despite the fact that I actually care the tiniest bit about him, if he cares even a little about me. He has that cold, angry demeanor that is so rare, and yet forces me to believe that he honestly doesn't think about anyone's wellbeing passed his own and Thorn's.
Murtagh's face hardened, but somehow retained its emotion, "Don't say that; you don't know me." His eyes narrowed, and I sucked in a breath quickly before leaning forward, determined to forget what I saw. After all, he didn't actually say he cared; no one likes to hear that their a selfish jerk, and that's what he was protesting. I can ignore that what he just said exactly reflects what I thought this morning.
My eyes narrowed, and I felt the magic tingle in my blood, "Stenr reisa." In the bluish moonlight, I could feel my fingertips burn and could make out a greenish glow that shone on Murtagh's face and floated in a cloud towards the pebble. He smiled as the pebble lifted a few inches out of his palm before it fell back into his hands. His smile was almost contagious as he looked down at the dissipating cloud of green, then up at me, then back down.
The dragon was staring at me intently, his eyes glimmering in the torchlight; at least, I think it was his eyes. He's covered in blood, and the blood is glimmering too. But I think it's his eyes I'm looking at; I hope it's his eyes that I'm looking at. If it isn't, then I'm going to be sick. Because that's the blood of my soldiers, of my dragon.
A movement to the dragon's side caught my eye, and I gulped; even if this was a dream, and I knew it was a dream, it didn't meant that what I was about to see would hurt any less. If anything, it made it worse; somehow, what I saw could be twisted by somebody into something I wanted to see, something that gave me a strange pleasure. But it didn't – it make me want to crash into the floor and die. It was the exact opposite of anything I could ever want to see.
Emerson struggled, in spite of the fact that his death was already certain. His spine had been severed – he was beyond my healing, beyond my experience. Hold on, just beyond mine; where's Murtagh, he can do it. "Murtagh!" I backed away from the dragon, whose eyes were still trained on me, as I reach for my sword. Lord knows why I didn't have it out before.
And then, in a streak of dark armor, Murtagh had jumped onto the dragon's neck, stabbing at it desperately. No, I wanted to scream at him, No, you need to save Emerson! "Murtagh!"
Someone was shaking me, but I felt myself fighting them, fighting to get by them. He was in danger, "Murtagh, MURTAGH!"
"I'm here, Liaden," his deep voice soothed me, and in that moment of relaxation I remembered that it was all a dream. A silly little dream that means absolutely nothing.
I took a deep breath, which hitched when I realized that Murtagh was absolutely wrapped around me, making it painfully obvious that I'd been fighting violently. Violent to the point that he'd had to restrain me. Alright, so maybe this dream is more than just a silly little dream. Maybe it's something that, on whatever deeper level, is actually affecting me. I mean, probably not, but maybe.
For a second, Murtagh pressed his hands into my lower back, forcing me further into his body than I'd been able to manage in my sad attempts at hugging him. My breathing hitched again, and I carefully wrapped my arms around him and buried my face into his shoulder, "I'm here, Liaden; I'm right here." His voice was unnecessarily deep and calm.
I nodded into his shoulder, only realizing that I'd been crying when I felt the tears smudge on his tunic. Oh, great. Now he probably won't believe me if I say that it was nothing. He'll probably still leave me alone, but he won't believe me, and that's just annoying. Then again, my cuddling into him is also sending all the wrong signals. But Murtagh is… nice to cuddle. Warm and slightly rock-like, but he gives at the right moments, if any of that made any sense.
One of his hands tentatively raised to stroke my hair, and in that second whatever desperate spell that had been cast when I started dreaming was broken. Murtagh pushed me away, jumping out of my bed and turning to storm out of the room.
Well, that was… abrupt. I swallowed awkwardly passed the small lump in my throat, sniffing and glaring at the door. I mean, what was that? He storms in, saves me from my nightmare, and then realizes that comforting me might actually mean that he cares a little? I would never assume that about him. I mean, he definitely has feelings, but that doesn't mean he cares. Not passed himself and Thorn.
I sniffed once more, and then Murtagh quickly stepped halfway back through the door. "Uh, breakfast in a half an hour, and then I cleared the day for flying lessons, so…" He trailed off, nodding through the rest of his mumblings and bowing out of the door.
"So, what would you like to work on tonight?" Murtagh fell back onto his hands, yawning silently as he looked out over the sparkling lake. After a full day of Riding-training, which was actually a lot of fun but also physically exhausting, Murtagh still insisted that we have one of our nightly sessions, even if all I want to do is go and collapse into my oversized bed and sleep. Or at least close my eyes – sleep may possibly lead to the nightmare again.
On the other hand, I'm angry, which tends to wake me up. I don't even know why I'm angry, but I know I'm angry at Murtagh. I mean, the whole day and I couldn't get one real emotion out of him. Maybe angry isn't the word – frustrated and annoyed. Yeah, that's more descript – frustrated, annoyed, and confused. I just don't understand how he cannot only not just show his real emotions, but not any emotion. How can a human being resemble a brick wall so… perfectly?
"I want to work on breaking into people's minds." My smirk was triumphant, but I wasn't quite sure why. I've felt Murtagh's mind – it's painfully closed off.
Murtagh's laugh was fake and halting, like it'd been all day. It made me feel small, like he was looking down on me. Hell, he probably was looking down on me. "Maybe you should work on a strong defense before you attempt the offensive." Alright, so he's definitely looking down on me. And I don't appreciate it in the least. So what, he's lived in this world his entire life and is way better at everything to do with Riding than I am; we're still both people!
Of course, that didn't mean I was a person who could think of any logic to back up what he'd suggested. I scoffed, "Whatever." Without bothering to listen to Murtagh's instructions, I decided to create a memory instead of protect a real one; a vivid daydream of me beating Murtagh to a bloody pulp. My eyes closed and it didn't take long for Murtagh's mind to start its slow crawl towards mine.
Just before he reached me, it occurred to me that I should probably try and protect a memory that I, well, actually wanted to keep from Murtagh, but it was too late. I cringed as Murtagh neatly stole the memory, and carefully opened my eyes to Murtagh's amazed, non-robotic smile. He shook his head as the image flashed through his mind for a few seconds, "Did I do something to anger you, my Lady?"
I swallowed passed the attraction that I felt for him, which peaked whenever he called me his 'Lady,' and glared, "If I did, that would not be the way to ask." I wonder how many other ways I can convince him to ask before I get bored and make up something. Because I'm not going to actually tell him that I want him to show emotion. Whatever emotion he would show would feel cheap, pre-bought. Not to mention he would probably make so much fun of me.
"Well, how else would you prefer me to ask? Fall down to the ground and start to wail because you want me dead a little?" That's actually really close. Maybe he picks up more than he lets on when he 'doesn't' explore my mind. "Seems to me that you should have more important things on your mind, and another man to be mad at."
I scoffed, amazed and insulted that he would bring such a topic up, "Shut up right now; you don't know Garret, and you don't know what went on between us." It's true, he doesn't. He's seen one or two memories where Garret and I were fighting; fighting does not reflect who he is in reality. Besides, at least he has a personality.
"I have a pretty good idea," Murtagh glared, only showing a hint of emotion. Only a hint, though. "He a smooth talker, pretty eyes, popular, never seriously courted a girl?"
"Garret has seriously courted a girl, thank you very much."
"Not you, though." Murtagh's eyes were hard, unforgiving; he knew he was right, and he knew it hurt… but I honestly don't think he cared.
That, combined with his unintentional reminder that I'm a horrible person and a cheater, turned the frustrated confusion into actual anger, and I nearly screamed the first thing that came to mind, "How the hell do you do it?"
Murtagh's brow furrowed, and with a sick jolt I realized what I'd just let slip. The last thing I want Murtagh to know what that I cared; I don't. At least, I don't want to, and it's easier to get over if it's unspoken. "What? How do I do what, Liaden?"
And I thought him calling me his lady was attractive. "How do you just sit there and not feel anything?" Well, I can't take that back. I can't even pretend that whatever he says, he just misinterpreted it. That's pretty straightforward.
The Rider across from me visibly deflated, but his voice was surprisingly strong, "I feel."
But if I wanted silence, I would whisper and if I wanted loneliness, I would go
And if I wanted rejection, I'd audition and if I didn't love you, I would go
And why can't you just hold me? And how come it is so hard?
And do you like to see me broken? And why do I still care?
Just Hold Me by Maria Mena