Murtagh's Story [An Eragon Fic]

Chapter 1: Prophetic Dreams

((Time Period: After the supposed defeat of Galbatorix))

Eragon was saying his final goodbyes to his family. He was to leave soon for Vroengard, maybe forever. Murtagh strode over to Nasuada, who was checking the fierce wounds on her dark skin. "Here, let me." he said, placing his hand on his collarbone. Murmuring a spell, he began to heal Nasuada's slim body. When he was done, Nasuada sighed, feeling the pain of her wounds go away. "Thank you." Nasuada said softly. She tentatively placed a hand upon Murtagh's shoulder, looking deep into his gentle, but pain-worn eyes. Murtagh sighed. "Thank you, Nasuada, You saved me." She swept a loose strand of hair away from Murtagh's face, revealing more of his tanned, smooth skin. Murtagh sighed again, but then grew tense and stepped back. "We can never be together, you know." His eyes lost their gentleness and became glassy once again. "But, we can. Won't you stay?" Nasuada asked, almost begging. Murtagh stepped back again, so he was backed up against Thorn. "You know no one would ever accept me. It can't be helped." He began to mount Thorn. "But don't worry about me." Murtagh said quickly as he saw panic rise in Nasuada's eyes. "I have somewhere to go." Nasuada nodded, and then looked him in the eye. "Goodbye, Murtagh Strongheart." Nasuada said. Murtagh gave her one last longing look, and then he and Thorn flew off into the fading daylight.

~

That night, in a small camp near the boundary line of Alagasia, Murtagh was racked with terrifying, Galbatorix-filled dreams. His capture and the instant when Hrothgar fell played over and over in his mind. How he had wanted to kill his brother - his own flesh and blood! was now terrifying. Murtagh woke up, and for the first time, found he did not know who he was. Murtagh crawled over near Thorn, carefully moving so as to not wake the dragon. He took out a small dagger, depression toying with his mind. He shielded his mind from his dragon's. He took his tunic off and placed the dagger over his chest, the tip drawing blood...

CRASH! A glass of water fell off of a nightstand and shattered on the floor. A girl who looked to be no more than 19 or 20 shot up in bed, gasping. Her bunkmate, a boy of 19, groaned. "Coran...what the...hell?" the boy said groggily. Coran shook her head. "Sorry. It's just..." she paused as the details of her dream came back to her. Coran jumped off of the left cot, grabbing the boy and pulling him out of bed. "We have to get Marc!" she said, running down the hall with the boy, Jake, in tow. Coran paused at the end of the hall, in front of the door that read: Black Star League President - Marc Sangrado. Coran banged on the door, and didn't stop until a Native American man opened the door. "What is it, Coran?" he asked with a slight accent. Coran ran inside, still towing Jake, and shut the door loudly. There was a muffled curse as a League member was woken in the next room. Coran took a deep breath. "Marc, I had a dream about...Murtagh." Coran looked at Marc to judge his expression. Marc looked surprised. And angry. "The traitor?" he asked. Coran flexed her hand, and suddenly a shadowy flame burned in her palm. "Careful." she said, eyes flashing. "That's my friend you're going on about." Marc looked at her. "Sorry." he said, looking relieved when the flame in her palm extinguished. "But...why? What does it mean?" Coran took another deep breath. "He's coming back." But then her eyes glazed, as if remembering something. Then she gasped. "Get a cot ready," she said.

"He's hurt. Badly."

((A/N: THROWBACK FANFIC! ENJOY!))