Disclaimer: The Inheritance Trilogy and all the characters and settings therein are the creative and legal property of Christopher Paolini. This story is being written without permission and without intent of profit. The plot is, to the best of my knowledge, my own. Original characters and places not seen in the Inheritance Trilogy belong to me.
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The worst thing about Galbatorix's defeat was that I couldn't celebrate with the rest of the Varden.
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His hand is tight around his brother's arm.
"No. Don't let me die like this."
"You owe me, brother."
He stiffens.
"I am not your brother. And I owe you nothing."
The cell door slams shut.
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Didn't I care for you, Eragon? I was your brother before either of us knew. I saved you. I saved you so many times… Is this how you repay me?
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"I am not your brother!"
"Do you still deny the truth?"
"Roran is my brother. Garrow was my father. I'm not related to you."
He feels a wave of jealousy wash over him.
"I am your brother, not him!"
"You turned evil!"
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Why won't you listen to me, Eragon? I was never evil. But I was always your brother…
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Everything begins with Morzan.
Later, when Murtagh can think about him without feeling his blood boil, he wonders why. Why did everything have to begin with that flying sword? Misery…
Sometimes, when all is still and he is lost in memory, Murtagh remembers his father's face. I love you, his mouth says, but his eyes are sad, trapped in some invisible cage.
The day he swears loyalty to the man he hates, he understands.
I love you too, Father, he thinks for the first time in years. Tears fall from his face as he kneels before his king.
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Don't you understand, Eragon? Not everyone can be as free as you are. Not everyone can do whatever they want. Both I and my father are trapped forever. He owns us, dead or alive.
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"Do you remember our mother, Eragon?"
"Don't talk to me about her, you traitor!"
"She was beautiful… She was left-handed, did you know? Mother's eyes were shaped just like yours… I think I got her nose, though…"
His brother is silent, but the urge to speak washes over him. He wants to tell somebody about his mother. Their mother.
"I remember, one time…"
Eragon leaves, but the next day he is back, hunger on his face. His eyes linger for a moment on Murtagh's nose.
"Tell me more."
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She came back, you know. After giving birth to you, she came back one last time. To say goodbye… We are our mother's sons, Eragon. We are brothers.
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"Why do you carry that sword?"
"I…I like it…"
Murtagh's eyes narrow. He looks at the red blade, and a shiver runs down his spine. The scar on his back tingles.
"It cut open my back. It nearly killed me."
Eragon begins to speak, but Murtagh interrupts him.
"Give me this, at least, Eragon. Kill me yourself. I want my father's sword to finish what it started all those years ago."
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Won't it be poetic, Eragon? Morzan's first son, killed by Morzan's sword, wielded by Morzan's second son… All things begin and end with Father… Life and death and misery…
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"Is Thorn alright?"
"Saphira's guarding him."
"I have a request."
His brother says nothing. Murtagh continues.
"When you kill me—"
"Who said I would?"
"Then give Zar'roc to the executioner and let him do it. I don't care, as long as it's Zar'roc that finishes me."
"If that's what you want."
His voice cracks, almost. "Kill Thorn, alright? When…when I die. I don't want him to suffer."
Murtagh looks up just in time to see the cell door slam shut.
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You understand, don't you? Do whatever you want to me. Just don't let him feel it. Maybe if we die together, we'll still be bonded together in the afterlife…
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"They've been screaming for your blood for a while now."
"Yeah, I know."
"I guess Galbatorix's corpse wasn't enough for them."
"Of course not."
"But… I don't understand. I thought we were fighting to restore the Riders. But… Thorn's still a dragon, even if he's…yours. You're still a Rider, even if you were…his."
"Galbatorix was a Rider. Shruikan was a dragon. That didn't stop you, did it?"
"That's different."
"And I'll always be his."
"He's dead."
"As if that would stop him from keeping me."
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Poor Eragon. You just don't understand. Some bondages last forever… I am his, forever. Thorn is his, forever. Death can't set me free.
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Once again, the woman walks into a cell to visit Murtagh. He laughs at the irony.
"Hello, milady. It's been a long time."
Her eyes are dark and sad and strong. They search him.
"Hello, Murtagh."
She still looks regal and strong. Even more so than before.
"I hope you aren't mad at me, Nasuada."
"No. Not at all."
"I'm sorry."
"I'm sorry, too."
"Why?"
"I tried…but…the people…"
Nasuada trails off. She looks down. Murtagh speaks.
"When's the execution?"
"Tomorrow."
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Every moment is precious. I wish you could have come by to talk. Now, the next time I see you will be my last. Did you know, Eragon? Is that why you didn't come?
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The list of crimes is being read. He doesn't listen.
Instead, he leans a bit closer to Thorn. They're both still drugged, but it doesn't matter. Nothing does, not anymore.
"Hey."
His voice is hoarse, whispered, but still recognizable.
"Hello, little brother."
Eragon says nothing.
"You going to kill me yourself?"
He is still silent.
"Good. I don't want to die to some anonymous executioner. I'd much rather be the last traitor the great Eragon kills."
The list of crimes is over. Two men force him to his knees. Eragon bends down. His voice is shaky.
"I'm sorry."
Murtagh smiles sadly.
"Don't be."
His father's blade finally finishes the job.
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I love you too, little brother.
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Author's Note: Exactly 1,000 words. It was kind of hard to do...
I actually wanted Eragon to set Murtagh free, but the story decided that Murtagh had to die. Don't ask me why.
This came about because of Eragon being such a stupid, brain-missing idiot at the Burning Plains, in which he offers to be Murtagh's executioner. Really, he's like, "Hold still while I kill you!" Okay, so not really... but still.
Review, please?