New chapter! I tried to give you guys a longer one this time. Hopefully the next chapter will be done soon too. Sorry if anyone seems OOC or random. Enjoy and Review! :)

Disclaimer: don't own

Chapter 5: cornered

"The way to love anything is to realize that it might be lost."

-G. K. Chesterton

Murtagh had to admit the blue robes suited eragon. They fit his figure perfectly and he would have looked quite handsome if it weren't for the anger burning in his eyes. Murtagh had always enjoyed eragon's determination to win or his anger at being teased, even his protective fury if one of his loved ones was being hurt, but this was different. The emotion that burned black in once honey colored eyes was a mixture of pure unbridled fury, fear, and hatred. It was the look of a cornered beast with nothing to lose. It didn't belong on eragon's features. Bitter resentment filled Murtagh at what Eragon had been forced to become. With a pang he remembered he had been a part of the process and sense of self loathing seeped into his veins.

you were under orders by galbatorix, thorn reminded him softly.

Murtagh ignored him. Although the king had forced him to capture Eragon with his true name, he had lost his head in the fight. When he had fought Eragon and started to gain the advantage, his friend's face had become Galbatorix's. He had relished overpowering him and in the process had almost killed Eragon as a result. No matter the reason, the actions were still his own. He loved Thorn, but he didn't need pity or excuses at the moment.

Excuses were things that made you weak. You either did something or you didn't and took responsibility for your actions. That was what Tornac had always taught him and it was one of the rules he lived by. He wouldn't go soft now. Besides Eragon was the one who should be feeling regret. He was the one who had left murtagh to rot in the king's palace. Anger and blame reared their ugly heads, but he shoved them down viscously. Blame was a weakness too and deep in his heart he knew Eragon probably hadn't known about his capture. The look on the younger rider's face at their reunion had said as much.

Eragon didn't pay attention to the various stone hallways they passed as Murtagh lead the way deeper into the heart of the castle. He was too bothered to care which way they went. His stomach lurched and gnawed at itself, getting steadily worse the closer they got to their destination and the king. The overpowering urge to run and fight at the same time wrestled inside him, pulling him in two directions at once. What was wrong with him? He had never doubted himself before, never felt so utterly helpless. Eragon's frown deepened as he tried to push his fear away, but it clung to him like the invisible collar Galbatorix had placed around his neck when he had uttered those three simple words. He stopped his train of thought before it lead him back to his sleepless nights chained to a mattress in a cell, waiting for the king's mental attacks.

His body was strung taught, ready for battle, every sinew remembering all the training he had done in order to kill the king and free Alegeasia. But his mind remembered the torment of losing his freedom and what it felt for the other man to root around in his head like rusted barbwire and control his body to force him into submission. Eragon grit his teeth in frustration. How was he supposed to kill someone he couldn't even step willingly into the same room as?

Eragon's thoughts were interrupted when Murtagh stopped before a pair of huge oak doors. Intricate carvings of dragons performing aerial combat soared and twisted across the wood's surface, breathing fire and snapping sharp teeth. Eragon's breath left his body. It wasn't the violent scene of the rider's fall that bothered him but the thick darkness that seemed to seep from underneath the door, as if the king's black magic was oozing through the walls.

Murtagh glanced at him with a strange look on his face and Eragon quickly pulled himself back together, using his anger as fuel. The last thing he needed was to look like a scared rabbit in the presence of a wolf, and that's exactly what his former friend's face said he looked like. He wasn't sure, but he swore he saw the ghost of a smile on Murtagh's face at his change in demeanor. Then it was gone and the doors were opening to reveal a gigantic banquet hall filled with a dizzying rainbow array of nobles sitting along either side of a table that stretched the length of the room. The table ended at the foot of a marble pedestal on which king galbatorix sat on his black velvet throne adorned in a black set of robes that matched the style of the ones Murtagh and Eragon were wearing.

Eragon inwardly shuttered at the sinister smile the king gave him. It was a look of a cat to a cornered mouse. Dangerous, victorious, and one of ownership. Eragon glared at him, gritting his teeth and wishing he could tear that smug grin off the king's face. Galbatorix ignored the look and announced in a rich voice that sounded like poisoned honey, "I welcome you Eragon shadeslayer to uru'baen and the empire's cause. Please. Take your rightful place at the table as a warrior for peace in the empire, a dragon rider, and the head of what will soon be the rebirth of a new order of riders along with your dragon saphira." The nobles in the room had all silenced at the king's words and turned their heads to inspect the farm boy rider who was to take a higher place at the table than them the nobility. Eragon didn't even notice their disapproving looks.

He snarled, "I may be in your castle and your robes, but you would daft to think that I would ever willingly fight for your madness, your tyranny. I stand here only because you have bound me in chains so tight that I cannot move. My allegiances will never be to you. That is one freedom you cannot take away from me no matter how tightly you bind me."

Murtagh stirred at Eragon's words. The young brunet had his teeth bared and fire in his eyes. That was the Eragon he remembered. And the one he had missed. That thought startled him, but the truth of it was not lost on him.

But how long will that fire last before Galbatorix extinguishes it, his sinical inner voice sneered, it didn't take long for him to crush you into obedience. Murtagh's fists tightened unconsciously. That had been when thorn had hatched for him. The threat of something happening to the little cat sized fireball had been enough to quench his rebellion overnight.

It'll be the same for Eragon when Galbatorix catches Saphira, the voice taunted, and you know its only a matter of time before he does.

Murtagh pushed the voice away fiercely. If anyone could endure the king, it was Eragon. A subtle feeling of warmth and support emanated through his bond with Thorn and he was grateful for it. Thorn understood him better than anyone and knew he needed comfort without words. No soft reassuring assumptions, or berating , or contempt. Just feeling and silence. Language beyond words.

Galbatorix chuckled darkly, waving away Eragon's words with the flick of his wrist, though Eragon could see swirling fury in the black depths of the king's eyes.

"My boy, I'm afraid you're confused after your long time with the Varden and their brainwashing habits," the king said smoothly, like warm soothing bath water lapping gently against his mind. This was the silver tongue Murtagh had told him of. The king continued, "you are stressed and upset from your long journey here and I can understand that. I am in no hurry to rush you into your role. Please understand that the reason I 'chained' you as you say is because I needed to ensure that you didn't cause any further damage to the people of our great nation. This war brings violence to good, innocent people's lives. It destroys their homes and their livelihoods, kills their children. With you removed from the battlefield I can guarantee that villages are not obliterated off the map needlessly in a matter of hours. At least now the people of the empire will only have to worry about men and not a dragon and her rider attacking them. I am sorry for tying you to the castle, but it is an action I take towards stopping this rebellion and returning peace to our great nation. Now enough talk of such troubling matters. I am sure you are hungry, so come and feast."

Eragon's glare deepened and he locked his muscles in place. He would've just stayed where he was if it weren't for Murtagh giving him a little nudge to the small of his back, reminding him why he had to do this. Grudgingly he followed the red rider's example and made his way to the head of the table repeating the same venomous insults in his head over and over: Lier. Murderer. Tyron. It made him fell slightly better, but he knew the king couldn't hear the words.

Murtagh took the seat to the king's right, leaving the seat across from him for Eragon. The older rider's face was blank, but Eragon could see how being forced to have a civilized dinner with the king was taking its toll on him. He knew full well the strain it took on his self control.

The table was filled with enough food to feed all of Carvahall for a week. Plates piled high with pheasant, venicen, and pork were carried around to all the guests by various servants. Eragon wrinkled his nose at the meat offered to him and declined, feeling nauseous as he thought about how many animal's had lost their lives to fuel the king's extravagance. He chose instead to pick out a variety of fruits and vegetables to fill his plate.

Murtagh took an assortment of meat off a plate offered to him and started eating. As soon as the red rider had taken what he wanted the servant left as quickly as he could to serve another guest. Murtagh didn't even seem to notice the frightened servant as he dug into his food, all too used to the shroud of fear that surrounded him.

It was painful to watch Murtagh shut out the world like that when he had just started to become praised instead of feared during his time in the Varden. Now he was back to being simply morzan's son, feared and despised. Eragon felt the urge to reach out to him and be that one person again who didn't judge him based on his father. But his wounds were still fresh and sore and so was the scabbed over scar on his heart. A vision of Murtagh towering over him, sword drawn, a murderous pleasure deep in his eyes as he snarled and drove his sword into his shoulder flashed through his mind. How could help Murtagh if he wasn't even sure if he could trust him?

Dinner passed silently between the king and the two riders, the only noise in the room being the polite chatting of the various nobles at the table. Eragon refused to take his eyes off his plate as he ate, glaring a hole through a pile of green beans, and only ate what was necessary to sustain him. The various deserts were left untouched, despite their mouthwatering aromas. Murtagh was likewise silent, but more like he had automatically gone into an iron box to shut everything out than to defy the king. Again, eragon felt the automatic urge to reach out to him, but once again the throbbing of his wounds held him back.

How long was this tug-a-war going to last? He was surprised to find that he was secretly hoping the fight would end with them closer. I don't want to lose him, thought eragon in awe, then almost blushed when he realized how romantic and cliché that thought sounded. But no matter how he phrased it, deep down he could feel the truth of it in his body. He felt drawn to the other rider deeper than mere friendship. It was almost like murtagh was safety and security. Like the bond they had had before Murtagh had been captured. When he was with murtagh and they were fighting together, back to back, covering each others weak points they were invincible, unconquerable. I'd do just about anything to get that back, thought Eragon.

When dinner ended and they were excused, the king merely told eragon to think about joining the empire's fight for peace. The gentle parent-like words combined with the lack of torture told him one thing: Galbatorix was trying to win him over. The idea of following the king's orders willingly with complete loyalty made eragon want to be sick. Maybe being locked up in a dungeon would be better than this. At least there the king would show his true face.

As soon as the king was done speaking Murtagh turned on his heels and quickly strode to the door. Eragon turned and followed him at an equally quick pace, but not before he caught a glimpse of a sadistically amused smirk cover the kings features as he watched the scarred rider flee. A cat letting its prey escape only to pull it back in by the tail. Eragon shuddered at the cruelty that lay in that twisted black mind. Maybe it wasn't completely murtagh's fault he had turned on him.

Eragon hurried after the red rider, leaving the banquet hall through the door Murtagh had taken only to be met with an empty corridor... great. He quickly glanced both directions in hope of some sign as to which way Murtagh had taken. Eragon swore silently. I should have paid more attention to how we got here, eragon thought miserably, chiding himself for being so stupid.

He was about to reach out with his mind when he remembered the king was sitting in the room behind him. If he reached out for Murtagh's mind he would end up brushing against the king's as well. Eragon shuddered at the thought of Galbatorix's cruel ripping touch and quickly scrapped the idea. No wonder Murtagh chose to keep his mind locked behind an impenetrable wall. It was hard to be angry at the older rider when he knew what he was going through first hand. Eragon shook off the thought and chose to dart down the corridor to the left and hoping it was the direction Murtagh had taken. There was no way he would be able to make it back on his own through the numerous twisting hallways that turned the castle into a labyrinth.

Eragon followed the corridor for what seemed like an eternity until he was thoroughly lost. Where the hell had murtagh stormed off to? Just as he turned another corner he came a couple inches away from running smack into a man furnished in rich nobleman's clothes. He quickly apologized and attempted to skirt around the man, but the noble moved to block his way. Eragon paused and glared at the man, his battle blood stirring at the implied threat. The man was tall and thin with a neatly trimmed black beard accompanied by a hooked nose.

He smiled cruelly, and said in a smooth voice, "You are the dragon rider Eragon, correct?" Eragon nodded, body tensing slightly. This man was dangerous. The man smiled, though it didn't seem to reach his eyes, and continued, "Well, then I must welcome you personally to the side that seeks peace and not war for our great empire." Eragon's immediate anger at the statement overrode his instincts and common sense.

"I will never willingly side with the king. He serves tyranny and destruction, not peace!" He growled. The man's smile only deepened.

"Well then I suppose it's up to me to help you understand your place here." The man raised his hand to backhand Eragon across the face, but with his elven speed and reflexes Eragon was able to catch it mid swing and land a punch in return, sending the noble toppling to the ground with a thud.

Fury boiled in Eragon's veins as he watched the noble touch his face slowly. The man's look of shock quickly turning to indignation and then anger. Eragon tensed again, waiting for the man's next move. The familiar thrill of adrenaline rushed through him and somewhere deeper in his heart he felt elation at being able to relieve some of his pent up frustration, his fear, his anger. It was new and scary and thrilling all at the same time. The victorious thrill was short lived as he was thrown into the rough stone wall behind him with a snarled word. Eragon's head cracked against the stone and he felt blood dampened his hair. He fought to recover and saw the noble stand, a twisted smile stretching his face as he strode toward the captured rider. Eragon snarled and began struggling against the invisible bonds that kept him pressed painfully against the ruff stone. If he could just use magic he could over power him! The noble stopped in front of Eragon to examine his captive.

"Now do you understand your position?" He asked coldly "you are helpless, powerless, without your magic and your dragon." A sudden wave of shock and fear swept through eragon as those words triggered memories of being chained down and helpless, galbatorix whispering those very same poison coated words in his ear. This time though, his panic turned into violence in an attempt to get away. He snarled and jerked himself forward to smash his head into the nobleman's, causing the man to howl and back up out of reach. Eragon hardly noticed as he continued thrashing madly like a crazed animal, desperate to take back control of his body.

"BASTARD!" He yelled along with a slew of insults. The noble got a hold of himself, fury burning in the dark brown depths of his eyes.

"You shouldn't have done that." He snarled. A second later Eragon's face was slammed sideways into the stone wall by a hard slap. The noble grabbed Eragon's head and pressed the side of his face into the stone harder, grinding the flesh.

"Do you understand now? No matter how hard you resist, you will be forced into submission." Eragon glared and spat on the noble's dark crimson and black robes. The man growled and raised his hand for another blow. Eragon closed his eyes, waiting for it's harsh sting.

Murtagh stormed down the hallway towards the dragon keep, where he usually went when he was upset. Eating with the king always put him in a foul mood. Galbatorix loved to use dinner as an excuse to parade him around like a prize and a weapon in front of the nobles. And even worse, now he was doing it to Eragon too. Wait. Eragon. He stopped and looked behind him. No one was there.

"Barzul," He cursed under his breath. He was sure the younger rider had been right behind him. Knowing eragon, he'd get himself into trouble if he didn't find him soon. There were a lot of people in the castle with a grudge against the Varden's rider. That and trouble seemed to follow the blue rider everywhere he went. Murtagh cursed again and hurried back the way he had come.

"Bastard!"

Murtagh paused his quick pace to listen. Was that eragon? A string of curses and insults faintly echoed down the hallway. Murtagh quickened his pace, following the obscenities. Relief filled him at finding the other rider, but in the back of his mind he knew it was never a good sign when eragon swore heavily. Someone else said something he couldn't make out and then there was a loud smacking sound. Murtagh wheeled around the corner just in time to see a black haired man backhand eragon into the stone wall. A burst of anger flooded his body and when the man raised his hand to deal another blow, he snarled a spell that picked up the man and flung him into the wall opposite Eragon.

Murtagh quickly ran over to Eragon. When he got close to him, Murtagh froze. Eragon was standing pressed to the wall, blood staining his hair and the stone behind him. His left cheek was scraped and bloody, his other cheek already starting to show signs of a large purple bruise forming on the fair skin. But what really shook murtagh was the barely concealed fear and panic hidden deep inside the other rider's eyes. How could he have let this happen?

"Eragon," murtagh said cautiously. The other rider seemed to shake himself into focusing on Murtagh. Relief and trust immediately shoved most of the fear in his eyes away, most of it anyway. The sudden desperate need in eragon's eyes startled him.

"Are you ok," Murtagh asked, pushing through the strange emotions swirling between them. Panic and desperation flashed through Eragon's eyes again and Murtagh immediately wished he hadn't asked.

"I can't move," Eragon ground out, then spat bitterly, "magic." Fury swelled in Murtagh instantly and he wheeled to face the man who had attacked Eragon.

"Release him," he ordered in a deadly tone that made the noble flinch. Murtagh heard a relieved sigh behind him from eragon as the spell was undone. He didn't take his eyes off the magician. He wanted to kill the nobleman, but the man wore the crimson and black robes of galbatorix's pet magicians. The king would not be pleased if one of them was killed and since Eragon had been in the fight with said magician, the blue rider would probably also be punished for the act.

Judging by the look of the man, Eragon had gotten in a few good blows before going down. That brought Murtagh some satisfaction, but he knew it would only bring the rider more trouble. Murtagh gritted his teeth and forced himself to leave the noble where he was crouched on the floor. He didn't want Eragon to suffer more than he already had at the hands of the king and that meant curbing his anger and killer intent. Since when did he care about someone else enough to put them before revenge? He shrugged off the thought. It was just because it was engrained in him to watch the other's back since he did such a shitty job of it himself. That was all.

Eragon looked a lot better than before. The panic of being trapped and tied down was slowly leaving his eyes to be replaced by his usual determination and a burning anger. Murtagh quickly grabbed his arm and began to lead him down the hallway. If he couldn't kill the damn magician, then Eragon couldn't either. Surprisingly, Eragon let him lead him away without argument.

"This isn't over," snarled the noble from his position on the floor.

Murtagh stopped and, before eragon could do something stupid, growled, "Yes it is." Then he continued down the hallway dragging Eragon behind him. Murtagh grit his teeth together in an effort to contain the anger boiling under his skin. Why was he so upset about this? The frustration of his confusing emotions was really starting to piss him off.

You are upset because of how deeply you care for him, came Thorn's deep rumbling voice.

I have never felt like this before around people I like, Murtagh argued back bluntly. Thorn sighed. Be calm young one. The reason you feel this way is because you don't simply like him, but LOVE him. You are afraid of losing him, that is why you are so upset. Think of how you felt when Tornac died. It is the same. Think on it young one. Murtagh shoved the thought to the back of his mind for later.

"You can let go now," Eragon said, breaking through his thoughts. Murtagh stopped and realized he was still dragging Eragon around by his arm. The younger rider was looking away awkwardly. He looked so innocent and cute like that, as if he was still a clueless farm boy. Wait- did he just say cute? What the hell was wrong with him? He quickly let go of Eragon's arm, immediately noticing the loss of warmth beneath his fingertips. He almost missed it, but he shook himself and started climbing the stairs that wound up the spire their rooms were in.

When they reached the door with the sapphire stone embedded in it Eragon turned to him and opened his mouth to undoubtedly thank him, but Murtagh would have none of it and simply pushed the rider into the room, following behind him. The younger rider started to say something, but Murtagh cut him off.

"Your injuries need to be healed." Eragon frowned at him.

"I know how to bandage wounds."

Murtagh mentally rolled his eyes. Same old stubborn Eragon. He reached out and gently placed a hand on the other riders shredded cheek, murmuring, "waise heill." Eragon stared at him with wide eyes and then a red blush started to darken his face as the bloody cuts faded to replace heated, but whole, skin. Murtagh smirked. He found it amusing to make Eragon blush like that. He slowly pulled his hand away from the smooth skin to repeat the healing process on the other cheek. With eragon's new fair skin tone it was ten times easier to watch the blush deepen from the intimate gesture as the other cheek healed. He reached around and gingerly felt the wound on the back of Eragon's head and healed that too. Then without a word he turned and left, closing the door behind him. Maybe there was something to what thorn had said after all.

To be Continued...