Murtagh Mockingjay

Prologue

Uru'baen, the capital of Alagaesia was renowned for its splendour and wealth. Those who lived there wanted for nothing. The same could not be said for those who lived in the 13 Districts, that lay to the east of the Capital. The District's provided the materials used and sold in the Empire, such as lumber, grain and coal. All the produce was sent to the Capital, so the people had very little for themselves; poverty was rife within the Districts.

Angered by the injustices they were being forced to suffer, District 13, which produced weaponry and soldiers for the Kings Army, staged an Uprising, with the support of the other Districts, against the Capital. A terrible war raged for many months, until the King's Forsworn ended the fighting by raining destruction and chaos down upon the Districts. King Galbatorix decided to make an example of District 13 and so, with his mighty dragon, Shruikan, the King burnt District 13 to the ground; leaving nothing but ash and ruin where the proud District once stood. To dissuade the other Districts from rebelling, King Galbatorix introduced the Hunger Games.

As a reminder of the cost of war, the King declared that each District must offer in tribute two children, aged from 12 to 18, to be chosen at random at a public Reaping. The 24 tributes would be placed in an arena, where they would fight to the death. The last one standing would be declared the Victor. They would be exempt from all future games and would be employed in the King's service.

To show no favouritism the King stated that even the Forsworns children would be entered into the games, if they had any. In the end only one of the Thirteen Forsworn had a child; Morzan, the Kings most loyal follower and his greatest friend. But children have a way of changing things and people.

Morzan's Castle, 59 years after the Uprising

The little raven-haired three-year-old sat quietly on the bench in the large back-garden, curiously watching the beautiful red and gold birds fluttering in the trees. Morzan, first and last of the Forsworn and the Kings only friend, watched his only child and tried to make sense of the confusing, yet powerful emotions that had emerged since he threw his sword, Zar'roc, at his son in a drunken rage.

Morzan strongly remembered he horror of watching his son's life-blood seep into the carpet and the disgust he felt at himself. But the most overwhelming emotion had come a week later when Murtagh was healed. Morzan, himself, had done all he could to heal his son but in his shocked and drunken state, he had only been able to do so much. Murtagh now bore a scar that went right across his back, from his left shoulder to his right hip.

Morzan left him in the care of his wet nurse, believing his child wouldn't want to see him. But as he sat in his study, trying to understand these new emotions he had developed, little Murtagh had appeared in the doorway looking nervous and shy. Morzan, surprised, hadn't known what to do, so staying where he was he asked,
"What is it, young one?"
Murtagh had taken a deep breath and said,
"I'm sorry for whatever I did that made you angry, Father; I didn't mean it."
Morzan hadn't known what to say. Murtagh thought it was his fault. His son thought it was his fault that his father almost killed him.

A new and powerful emotion had come crashing into Morzan, leaving him stunned. When he didn't reply, little Murtagh had turned to leave but not before muttering,
"I love you, Father."
And Morzan had been left wondering what he had done to deserve such a sweet child.

Now as he stood watching his little boy sitting quietly, he wondered how someone so small could cause such strong emotions.
It's called guilt, my friend, came the melodious voice of his dragon. Morzan looked across at his beautiful, blood-red dragon as he lounged in the warm, summer Sun watching him.
"What do mean?" Asked Morzan.
The emotion that you're feeling is guilt. You feel guilty that you nearly killed your son.
"So what do you suggest I do about it?"
Go to him, talk to him. He is your son, Morzan. He is as much a part of you as I am. To hurt him is to hurt yourself. I believe that is what it means to be a parent.

Seeing the wisdom and truth I his dragon's words, Morzan made his way over to the bench his son was perched on and gently sat beside his son. Little Murtagh tensed slightly at his arrival but otherwise he didn't move. Having never interacted much with children, let alone his own, Morzan didn't know how to engage the little lad. Looking around the garden for inspiration, he silently wondered what he was supposed to say to a child he had scarred for life both physically and emotionally as well?

Looking down at his tiny, little son, Morzan saw the awe and curiosity written on his handsome features. Following his gaze Morzan saw a topic.
"They're called Mockingjays," said Morzan, pointing to the scarlet and gold birds that held Murtagh's attention. Murtagh tested the name and smiled when he decided that he liked it. Pleased at his son's reaction, Morzan continued,
"Mockingjays are unique to Alagaesia. When they hear someone singing and are pleased with what they hear or if they hear a tune they like, they sing it back."
"Really?" Asked Murtagh, looking wide-eyed at his father. Morzan could feel the child becoming more comfortable in his presence.
"Would...would you sing to them, Father? I'd bet they'd sing back to you," said Murtagh, enthusiastically
Morzan couldn't help but smile at his son's enthusiasm.
Go ahead, my Rider; sing for him, encouraged his dragon. So taking a deep breath, Morzan began to sing,

"Are you, are you coming to the tree?
They've strung up a man, they say he murdered three;
Strange things have happened here,
How stranger would it be?
If we met at midnight
In the Hanging Tree.

Are you, are you coming to the tree?
Where a dead man calls out for his love to flee;
Strange things have happened here,
How stranger would it be?
If we met at midnight,
In the Hanging Tree.

Are you, are you coming to the tree?
Where I told you to run so we'd both be free;
Strange things have happened here,
How stranger would it be?
If we met at midnight,
In the Hanging Tree.

Are you, are you coming to the tree?
Wear a necklace of rope side-by-side with me;
Strange things have happened here,
How stranger would it be?
If we met at midnight,
In the Hanging Tree."

Morzan blinked coming back to himself as he finished singing. His father had sung it to him and it was the first time he had sung it since his father's death. Suddenly aware of a slight pressure in his lap, he looked down to see Murtagh had climbed into his lap whilst he sang, and was watching him with wide-eyed admiration, that sent a warm and pleasant sensation through his heart. Morzan heard his dragon hum in contentment as he felt what Morzan did.

Suddenly, the Mockingjays, that had gone quiet so they could listen to him sing, now began to sing the tune of his songs back to him. Morzan heard little Murtagh gasp with surprise and then he began to giggle with delight. Morzan smiled at the sound, realising for the first time just how beautiful the sound was. He loved how his boy's face lit up when he smiled, he loved even more the fact that he was responsible for that smile.

Gently putting his arms around the little boy in his lap, he put his lips to Murtagh's ear and whispered,
"I'm so sorry for whatever I did, my son. But I promise that I will never hurt you again or let anything else harm you."
Wanting his words to have meaning, he repeated the them in the Ancient Language, sealing a binding oath. In response, Murtagh wrapped his little arms around Morzan's torso.
"I love you, Father," Murtagh whispered.
"And I love you, my little Mockingjay," replied Morzan, realising just how true his words were.

And so, Father and son sat together listening to the Mockingjays sing, not realizing that this day would change the fate of Alagaesia. For on this day the Mockingjay was born.