The Name of Names

~29: Rejection~

Murtagh slept that night, after casting protective spells that would trigger if anyone entered the room, and woke in the morning refreshed. The actual bed had done him well, and he had slept soundly, not awakening at all.

He got up, and looked around the room, before contacting Thorn. He was currently shredding a deer he had caught, and Murtagh left him to his eating while he studied the room.

A portrait of Illeria hung on one wall, clearly painted after Galbatorix's fall, as the city looked slightly different. The walls of the room were of quarried stone, and were cold to his touch, showing the need for the fireplace on the opposite wall.

"Brisingr." He muttered, and the wood inside of the fireplace burst into flames. The days had grown colder, indicating the beginning of fall, and soon winter.

He heard nothing all that morning, and wondered if Nasuada was dealing with all of the nobles and guards demanding am explanation for the sudden-and short-dragon attack in the courtyard. Undoubtedly, they had noticed the massive red dragon, which meant they most likely made the connection that Murtagh Kingkiller had returned to Alagaesia.

Around noon, a knock sounded on his door, and he strode over to it, his hand on Zar'roc, and his lips ready to sound a single word to stop any potential threats.

He opened it, and found a man, looking distinctly uncomfortable at being there, "Ah, sir, Nasuada has r-requested to s-speak with you." he stuttered through his sentence and Murtagh's upper lip lifted slightly in distaste.

"I'll be right there." he informed the man, turning back into the room.

"B-but sir, she said for me to escort you." The man squeaked, and Murtagh turned around, eyeing him.

"Alright then. Then you may wait outside for a moment."

The man bobbed his head, and Murtagh closed the door firmly, going over to the mirror in his room. He combed through his hair quickly, and brushed the pieces of dirt that still clung to his tunic off. His boots were weather-stained, and overall he looked rather wild.

Murtagh smirked, and turned away, headed for the door. He liked the look, and despite the fact that he couldn't, he didn't want to change it.

The man was still waiting, kneading his hat in his hands. He jumped as Murtagh opened the door, moving back a few paces and waving Murtagh on.

"This way, s-sir." He stammered, moving down the hall.

Murtagh strode confidently, while the man seemed to skitter ahead, glancing back at Murtagh every so often.

They arrived outside the council room, and the man stammered a quick, "Wait here." before hurrying inside. After several more minutes, he came back out, "You may go in." he said quickly before shrinking back to the wall behind them.

Murtagh walked in, and looked around at the council members, who were all either looking deadly serious, or distinctly uncomfortable.

Nasuada herself wore a mask that contained all her emotions, so that Murtagh couldn't guess them at all.

"You sent for me?" Murtagh asked, making her answer the question first.

"Yes." Nasuada said composedly, "The council wishes to know why you are here. Why have you returned to Alagaesia after ten years?"

"My reasons are my own." Murtagh answered with the same tone of emotion, "But I would wish to speak with you alone."

Murmurs scattered throughout the council in objection, and Nasuada watched Murtagh as if to say, "What are you playing at?"

Murtagh met her gaze, awaiting the council's answer.

A tall man stood up, "I apologize, but that cannot be allowed."

Murtagh raised an eyebrow, "If you wish, of course, I could use magic to throw you out of this room."

The man, Jormunder met his gaze, before glancing at Nasuada, who inclined her head slightly, her eyes flicking to the same young girl that had accompanied her the previous night.

His jaw worked for a moment, looking very unwilling, and wishing to do something other than what he responded, "Very well. But make it brief."

Murmurs of dissent ran around the council, before they began to file out, realizing that if Murtagh had wanted to kill Nasuada, he could have already before this point.

Once they were gone, all besides the young girl, whom Murtagh decided to allow, Nasuada spoke, "What is this about?"

"I believe you already know."

"Murtagh..." Nasuada started, but Murtagh cut her off, pacing for a few seconds before stopping to face her.

"You know why I'm here." he repeated, looking into her eyes.

She looked away, "Murtagh, it would be best if you left now." her throat moved as she swallowed-hard.

Murtagh stepped forward and placed a hand on her crossed ones. She flinched, and Murtagh used his other hand to tilt her head to face his.

"Please." he asked quietly, letting the unspoken question speak for him.

She shook her head, "I can't. You know that. For many reasons."

Murtagh moved his hands back to the side, and found them resting on the only thing that he was familiar with; Zar'roc.

Nasuada saw this, and held her chin up, "You are dismissed."

His head dropped for a moment before he jerked it back up, looking her in the eye and working his jaw. Several tense moments passed. "Everything is official to you, isn't it?" he said, before turning and leaving the room.

Nasuada said nothing, watching him leave and exit through the doors.

Murtagh passed through the waiting nobles and officials, who had been waiting outside for Nasuada to call them back in. As Murtagh passed through, they took it as the signal, and began to filter back into the council room.

This was expected. Thorn's voice entered his mind, holding a trace of sympathy.

Doesn't make it any less painful. Mutagh growled, feeling tears starting to form and angrily wiping them away.

You did this so that she would reject you. So that you would move on. Thorn insisted.

Just drop the subject. Murtagh said shortly, walking through the halls quickly. He found himself at a balcony, suddenly showing the entire city before him.

He leaned against the balcony rail, looking out across the city of Uru'baen. Or Illeria, as it is called now, he reflected somewhat bitterly. Nasuada's rejection had been harsh, and though it was expected, and he understood her reasons, it still felt like a cruel blow.