Disclaimer: I do not own the Inheritance Trilogy, nor am I making any money from this. It's just for fun, that it is.

Misery

"So be it. I take my inheritance from you, brother. Farewell."

Murtagh retrieved his helm from the ground and pulled himself onto Thorn, not once looking at the prone boy. Thorn lifted off to the north and Murtagh used every fiber of willpower he had within him to keep himself from looking back towards Eragon; towards his brother.

Once the plateau had vanished from sight, Murtagh allowed the binding spells holding the younger Rider and his dragon to diminish. He slumped wearily against Thorn's neck.

Are you alright? the dragon asked carefully.

Murtagh closed his eyes tightly against the wave of emotions threatening to crash within him. But in his mind's eye, all he could see was the look of betrayal evident on Eragon's face when he had unmasked his opponent. He shook his head trying to shake the image, but found himself unable to do so.

Fine, the Rider replied finally.

Liar.

Murtagh shrugged silently, not disagreeing. He shared a sacred bond with the dragon; there could be no secrets between the two. But at that point, Murtagh didn't want to mask the pain within himself. It was a small sign that at least part of his soul was still his, no matter what Galbatorix thought.

You knew from the start that this would be hard, Thorn said evenly.

Murtagh sighed. Not that I wanted to do it in the first place. The Rider felt a measure of disbelief through the bond and relented. He hadn't acted entirely innocent, after all. Alright, I admit the chance to fight Eragon again was a draw.

You said some cruel things.

I know.

Did you mean them?

It was a straight forward question, and yet, Murtagh found himself unable to answer for a moment.

I spoke the truth, he replied finally, remembering how Eragon's eyes had gone wide and his pale skin had lost another shade when he revealed the boy's heritage. He knew that the revelation had caused his brother pain, and yet, he had found himself unable to resist the urge to tell him; to weaken him.

And so did he, Thorn said quietly.

"You and I, we are the same, Eragon. Mirror images of one another. You can't deny it."

"You're wrong," growled Eragon, struggling against the spell. "We're nothing alike. I don't have a scar on my back anymore."

Murtagh flinched at the memory. Those few words of rejection had had the same effect as if Eragon had punched him in the gut. He wasn't sure why those words had hurt so much, but they had been the most painful part of the entire encounter.

I have betrayed my kin, Murtagh whispered after some time.

Your brother or your father?

The Rider blinked. You are too perceptive sometimes.

Thorn mentally shrugged. Can you answer the question?

I have no pride in who my father was, Murtagh hissed. Zar'roc bounced against his thigh.

Then why did you take his sword?

It is mine by right.

And is the legacy that comes with it? Are you bound to Morzan's fate?

It would seem so, Murtagh said bitterly.

I know we are bound by our oaths in the ancient language to stay loyal to Galbatorix...

But?

But I will follow you in whatever you choose, Murtagh. I believe in your strength. Otherwise I would have not hatched for you.

Murtagh felt nothing but empathy and concern through the bond. When he had finally become accustomed to sharing souls with the dragon, Murtagh had finally come to understand the light that appeared in Eragon's eyes whenever he looked at Saphira.

I appreciate your faith, but I fear it may be misplaced. Since my capture, I have... changed. I am no more the man I once was. I... I am broken.

Do not belittle yourself, young one, Thorn admonished gently. I sense fight in you yet.

Murtagh shook his head. I have sealed my fate by fighting Eragon this day. No longer can I go back. As much as I may want to.

Galbatorix's magic is powerful.

It... It's not just his magic. Murtagh felt despair and confusion clouding his heart. He had said so many things and I... I came to believe him. I protested at first, determined to win out. But I broke. And now, what I once believed feels just out of my reach, like smoke on the wind. I was so lost and Galbatorix offered a path. And I took it. It was a road that had been traveled before: by my father. Murtagh trailed off, his temples beginning to throb as his loyalty to the king came under suspicion.

But Eragon expressed all those beliefs that you lost in your captivity, Thorn concluded.

Murtagh merely nodded, trying to gather his thoughts.

For much of the time after I broke, I came to believe what he told me, as I had when I was younger. I became so sure that Galbatorix was right, but facing Eragon... I started to lose it. It was then that the Rider laughed bitterly. He is a better man than I, Thorn. He didn't break.

He also didn't undergo what you did, young one, Thorn said quietly.

Murtagh grimaced as painful memories threatened to break to the surface. When he had told Eragon he had been 'punished' for running away, he had meant tortured; tortured for what seemed like an eternity. In the end he had been too weak to keep up his mental barriers and that was when Galbatorix had taken his memories of Eragon, Saphira, and the Varden. The mental strain on top of the continuous physical agony that he had been subjected to had been what had finally broken him.

He had been broken to pieces mentally and spiritually, and it had been the honey coated words of the king that had helped him to regroup into a shell of his former self. The king had 'taught' him from his line of thinking and for the lost warrior, it had been the only lifeline he had been able to grasp onto.

Galbatorix had then brought him to the eggs and, to Murtagh's great surprise, Thorn had hatched for him. It was then that the king had begun to train him in magic and ways of the Riders (much further than he had been before); and finally, about his enemies.

Something about it all had seemed off to Murtagh, but he hadn't been able to place it until he had been sent on his first mission: to eradicate a small group of Varden spies in the capital itself. When he and Thorn had stood in front of these cowering people, he had suddenly been mentally assaulted by old fragments of memories. The rebels had been speaking of a 'Shadeslayer' who Murtagh had been told was his greatest enemy. But it was in front of those people that he had wavered as memories of a young boy and a blue dragon flew across his mind.

Thorn had been equally confused by the sudden assault of repressed memories, but didn't have a chance to do anything about it as Galbatorix had entered the Rider's mind and had encouraged him to finish his task.

So, Murtagh and Thorn had executed the group, but the warrior had been left confused and so severely shaken he had retracted into himself and had been unable to come out of it for a week.

After that, the king had redoubled his efforts to train the younger Rider and dragon to be loyal to him. But Murtagh and Thorn had continued to have their doubts as more of Murtagh's suppressed memories returned. And that was when the king had revealed his trump card.

Murtagh writhed on the floor screaming in agony. There was nothing in his consciousness but the blinding, searing agony that seemed to burst from every pore in his body. He felt like his very soul was being ripped apart slowly; like his very essence was being slowly extracted from his body. It was a pain beyond imagination, so Murtagh did the only thing he could: scream. He screamed in pain until his throat was raw and his voice was hoarse, and yet it still continued.

It continued for an eternity, but Murtagh did not pass out. He remained mercilessly conscious of the pain.

It continued after he no longer had the strength or will to scream or writhe in pain. He felt nothing but the pain as he lay there gasping silently facedown on the floor of the king's throne room.

And suddenly, Murtagh realized it had stopped. It had taken awhile for him to notice as his very being still ached intensely, but there was no new source of pain. The fallen warrior gasped for breath, flinching as the life-giving air passed through his raw throat.

"How was that, Murtagh?" a cold voice whispered into his ear.

Dully the Rider recognized the voice as that of Galbatorix. But somehow he couldn't care. He was so tired… so sore… he just wanted to sleep…

No, stay awake young one! a new voice rang in his head.

The Rider blinked. It took a few moments for things to sink into his dulled mind.

Thorn…?

You must stay awake, Murtagh! If you fall asleep now, you won't wake up! the dragon said urgently.

So… tired… Murtagh whispered.

Stay awake, the dragon continued in his mind. You must remain conscious!

"Do you realize how close to death you are, Murtagh?" Galbatorix whispered into the prone warrior's ear. "But I control you, now. Do you know why?"

Murtagh remained silent, trying to shut himself away from the pain. He was so tired from screaming and writhing in pain…

"Because I hold your true name," the king whispered.

Murtagh went rigid. Somehow that had sunk in immediately.

"Not only do I hold your true name, I hold your dragon's true name as well," the king continued smoothly into Murtagh's ear.

"No," Murtagh whispered painfully.

"Oh yes. That is why I control you. I control your time of death now. If I willed it, I could kill you right now just by using your name."

Murtagh bit his lip painfully, drawing blood.

"But I won't do that. No, this was only a display to show you what will happen if you disobey me anytime in the future," the king crooned.

This could happen again? Murtagh's thoughts ran through his mind with a terrified urgency. No! Never again! Please!

He felt a sudden pressure in his mind but did not have the strength to throw up a barrier to stop the invasion of his subconscious. He was so weak…

Images of a boy suddenly flashed in his mind's eye; a boy and a blue dragon. Murtagh's eyes went wide.

Eragon!

"I believe this boy means something to you," a cold voice echoed through his mind. Galbatorix's voice, Murtagh realized. The king had forced his way into the Rider's mind like he had before – the last time he had broken.

"Eragon, was it?" the king asked thoughtfully. "Eragon Shadeslayer, yes."

No…

Memories of their time together had come flooding back to Murtagh the night before… Suddenly he realized that that was the reason for tonight's summons. Chills ran down his spine – he winced in pain.

"This boy is my enemy. I have told you this, Murtagh." Galbatorix was speaking outside his mind now.

The younger Rider forced himself to lock eyes with the king and almost immediately regretted it but did his best not to look away.

"He is now your enemy. The Varden is our enemy and he has become a tool of the Varden. We must free him from their shameless shackles. A Rider does not deserve to be shackled as he is."

"What do you want?" Murtagh whispered painfully, his vision spinning in front of him.

"I want you to capture him and bring him and his dragon back here."

"And if I say no?"

A jolt of sharp pain raced through Murtagh's body and he convulsed in pain, crying out.

"That is what will happen, my young friend. Any breach in loyalty will result in this for you. And your dragon will only be able to sit by and watch."

Murtagh suddenly realized that Thorn had been blocked out of his mind during the entire ordeal. His dragon had only been able to watch helplessly as he had been racked with pain for so long… He had probably been able to feel it as well, but unable to lend his support and strength.

Thorn…

The dragon remained silent, though he could feel Thorn's frustration rippling through their bond.

"Just a little piece of information you might find interesting, Murtagh," Galbatorix said over his shoulder as he walked back towards his throne. "This Eragon…he has a relation to you."

Murtagh blinked. "What?"

"He carries Zar'roc I believe," the king continued.

"So?"

"It's a shame… Morzan's sword should have gone to his eldest son, not his youngest."

Murtagh went rigid as his mind went strangely blank.

Eragon…

He could feel Thorn's shock through the bond as well.

"Yes, Murtagh," Galbatorix crooned coldly. "He is your brother."

"No…"

"And I thought you would have been pleased," the king said with an evil smirk playing at his lips. "It seems you have family in this world after all." His face suddenly turned stone cold. "I have one of the sons of the great Morzan with me. It's time we made this a family affair.

"You will bring him and his dragon to me, Murtagh. You know what will happen if you don't.

"Now, swear your allegiance to me. In the ancient language."

Murtagh swallowed and another jolt of pain exploded in his mind. He thought his head might explode. Dimly he could hear Thorn's angered growl, but the dragon was in no position to make a move to help him. Murtagh writhed in agony, his hands covering his head, though it made no difference.

As suddenly as it had come, the pain vanished; Murtagh was left gasping painfully for breath. He felt as if every bone in his body was broken.

My brother… Murtagh thought dimly. Eragon…

"Yes," Galbatorix's voice rang in his mind, "your brother."

Forcing himself to look at his captor from his prone position on the floor, Murtagh suddenly felt helpless. He lost all sense of self in the king's cold, dark eyes for a moment before he returned to himself. He instinctually tried to retreat within himself, but Galbatorix forced him to remain on the surface of his mind.

"No running away, brave Murtagh," the king mocked. "Now, will you swear or do you need another reminder?"

The fallen warrior tensed immediately at the threat before realizing that he was out of options. He had lost to the king; he had lost in his weakness and fear.

Murtagh felt a tear fall down his cheek.

"I will swear," he whispered.

The king laughed.

Murtagh looked at his hand, where the mark of the Dragon Rider had been branded before balling it into a fist.

"I am a broken man," he whispered. "I am a coward; a fearful coward."

We will find a way to get through this, young one.

Murtagh allowed a small smile for his dragon. Moments like this, when he was truly alone with Thorn – which were few and far between – were moments that he could feel free as they soared through the air. That was the one comfort that Murtagh was able to grasp onto in his forced captivity.

"I hope so."

Eragon… Murtagh thought wistfully, sorrowfully.

The few remaining hours of almost freedom that Murtagh had with Thorn faded quickly away as they soared into the capital city. Steeling himself – and his mind – the best he could, Murtagh met the retainers who came rushing out of the castle to meet him.

"Lord Murtagh!"

"My Lord!"

"The King has been informed of your return."

Murtagh sighed. "Yes."

"He is waiting now."

Be strong, young one, Thorn whispered across the bond before the retainers led him away. Murtagh watched a few moments until the dragon was out of sight before nodding to the men in front of him.

"Let's go, then."

Murtagh's boots clacked against the stone tile of the castle floor as he was led on the familiar route to the throne room. Since that incident, deep down, Murtagh had been holding a fear of the room; he was practically dreading heading in there to face the king now.

But he had made his decision and he would stick by it; he had done what he could to defy the king without the immediate punishment his oath had forced upon him. But he would surely face worse now.

The retainers opened the doors and stepped to the side and Murtagh took a breath before heading into the room. Galbatorix sat on his throne at the end of the room.

Murtagh did his best to keep a schooled face as he made his way toward the man. The whole time he made his way down the aisle, Galbatorix's eyes never left his own. The younger Rider knelt in front of the king, bowing his head, though his warrior's instinct was screaming at him not to take his eyes from the man in front of him.

A few silent moments passed and Murtagh did not dare raise his eyes to look at the king. He knew better than that. The temperature in the room felt as if it was falling and Murtagh suppressed the urge to shiver.

He doubled over and spit out blood as a hard boot suddenly made contact with his midsection. Instinctively, Murtagh curled into a fetal position and tensed as the boot made continual contact with his belly. He could feel ribs cracking and there was nothing he could do but gasp in pain and spit out the blood pooling in his mouth.

Finally the barrage stopped and Murtagh felt his collar being grasped. He was forcefully lifted upright and slammed against the wall. His head snapped back and hit the wall; stars danced in front of the warrior's eyes. Murtagh gasped in pain before lowering his eyes to meet the furious glare of the king.

Rage burned in Galbatorix's eyes and a shiver ran down Murtagh's spine.

"You didn't recover the prize," the king hissed. "I ordered you to collect the boy and the dragon and you failed. And you dare show your face to me?"

"You said to try and capture them," Murtagh gasped; Galbatorix's hand was wrapped squarely around his neck, making it hard for him to breathe. "I tried."

Galbatorix slapped him across the face and his vision turned black for a moment. "You insolent brat."

The king stepped away from the wall, but Murtagh remained pinned to the wall, a spell obviously holding him there. His toes were barely touching the floor as he hung helplessly. Galbatorix's eyes drifted down Murtagh's person and came to a halt at his belt. The king moved closer and touched the new addition to Murtagh's weaponry.

"Zar'roc," he whispered.

"Eragon had it," Murtagh coughed. "I recovered it." He spit out blood once more. His vision was tunneling as the darkness approached.

Galbatorix examined the blood red blade intently for several moments before the webs holding Murtagh to the wall faded. The young Rider fell in a lump to the floor where he lay gasping.

"You managed to find a loophole in my orders," the king said, pacing back and forth in front of Murtagh. "You let him escape, didn't you?"

Murtagh remained silent.

"You still carry loyalty to that boy and the Varden, don't you?"

Murtagh lowered his eyes. Since his memories had begun returning after Galbatorix's invasion into his mind that first time, he had been trying to hold back how much had come back to him from the king. He had already betrayed them once – albeit not by his choice – and he did not want to do it again.

"I see."

The blinding pain returning in an instant and Murtagh cried out in pain and convulsed as his consciousness faded and the pain took center stage; there was nothing but agony for an eternity. This was hell. It hurt more than anything and he wanted nothing more than to escape from the pain.

Dimly he heard Thorn calling out his name but was unable to answer as the pain soon distracted him.

Suddenly the pain vanished and Murtagh was left sweaty and panting in a heap on the floor. His throat burned from yelling and every breath was painful. His muscles shook in the aftermath of the pain and he was unable to move.

Galbatorix knelt in front of him, lifting Murtagh's chin up painfully so they would be eye to eye. Murtagh swallowed against the pain, biting his lip.

"This time there will be no loopholes.

"This time there will be no mercy for my enemies."

Murtagh wasn't sure whether the tears streaming down his cheeks were from the torture or for the boy he had just betrayed; his brother.

Eragon…

Author's Note:This is the first story I've ever tried to write for the Eragon universe, so I hope I didn't completely ruin anything. Please leave me a review and let me know what you thought. Please?

Revised as of 12/17/06