The pros and cons of breathing (1/?)
First post here ^^
I hope it's not too bad...
Title : The pros and cons of breathing
Author : Amy Shinomori
Characters : Murtagh, Galbatorix, Eragon, Saphira, Thorn. (well, later on, anyway)
Rating : R.
Disclaimer : Would I be there if I owned them ?
Warnings : none yet… maybe slash, but you would have to squint very hard.
Notes : Takes place after Murtagh’s ‘kidnapping’ by the twins. Wrote this while listening to ‘The pros and cons of breathing’ by fall out boy. Dude, I have a life… just not right now >___<.
The pros and cons of breathing
After days of unconsciousness, the only thing he noticed as he finally opened his burning eyes was the disturbing lack of colours…
…the lack of red.
He released a pained sigh as he let his sight adjust to the thick darkness surrounding him…
He didn’t care where he was… he just felt grateful for the relief this blessed nothingness brought him.
How did it come to this…?
His mind didn’t seem to register the cold gnawing at his bruised skin… there was darkness, blessed darkness, and it was all that mattered.
For Darkness was the only friend that he had left. The only friend that would never, ever, betray him.
Darkness was a constant were the light had always failed him.
Light exposed him.
He couldn’t stand the blinding light that seemed to make Eragon glow with the intensity of a new born sun…
Light made him see things that weren’t there… that would never be there.
Things like this warm feeling of belonging he got every time he looked Eragon in the eye… friendship, forgiveness… at last.
Lies… Light was full of treachery, making monsters look peaceful and harmless, hiding the glint in their eyes as they planned your demise.
Light-headed, for some reason he couldn’t quite place, Murtagh slowly rose from the floor, using his hands to grab at a moist wall for balance, listening intently for any sign of life in his surroundings.
Darkness made him hyperaware of his surrounding… aware of everything that went on around him. The damp floor under his naked feet, the stiffening smell of old, rotten wood, enveloping him… the slight brush of cold draft on his hyper-sensitised skin as a door cringed in it’s hinges on his right.
A ray of cold light crawled on the floor in his direction and Murtagh found himself flinching from it, pressing his sore back to cold stone in a vain attempt to remain shielded in the shadows.
‘Greetings, Murtagh, my young friend…’
And from the very bottom of his soul, the young man felt all trace of hope choke and contort before dissolving in a puff of rotten air.
Worst even than the treachery of Light and colours…
King Galbatorix’s triumphant chuckle as he crossed the room to stand in from of him, in all his glorious mightiness, embodiment of defeat in his youthful eyes.
‘How good it is to see you again… son of mine.’
Snarling into the shadows, every single muscle of his body tensing at the perspective of the upcoming fight, Murtagh bent slightly to glare at the King.
‘There is not an ounce of your blood in my veins, monster. The very idea of a parentage to you makes me sick to my stomach. I am no son of yours…’
‘Hush. Is this a way to address you Godfather, my young friend…?’ Galbatorix sniffles, brushing an imaginary tear off his cheek.
Then, letting a wide, malevolent grin spread his thin lips, he adds…
‘…you are my son, Murtagh, in everything but in blood. And you shall be treated as such…’
Flinching slightly as the King slowly forced his way into his mind, Murtagh squeezed his eyes shut in a vain effort to push the probing consciousness away, recoiling at the intense cold it left in it‘s wake.
…starting with your punishment, the Rider completed, brushing his barriers down with humiliating ease.
Cheeks burning with shame as the man in front of him let his consciousness overwhelm him, the young swordsman greeted his teeth, using every ounce of his will-power to keep the King away from what he desperately wanted to find, shielding the precious memories of his time with Eragon and Saphira with walls of metaphorical steel.
Feeling a sudden surge of boldness, he stood up straighter, glaring at the King in front of him, seething in barely restrained rage as he saw the maniacal smile spread on his face. He resisted the need to back up further against the wall and took on agonising step forward to use what little advantage he had on the old Rider : his height.
But it was not enough to win this kind of battle, that much, Murtagh knew; and therefore, he was not really surprised to see the mocking glint in those black pool Galbatorix had for eyes.
Still, strong with the conviction that he was tenacious enough to give the King a hard time acquiring what he craved to know, the young man kept on with his stubborn act, pushing at the alien consciousness with all his might, determined to fight and defend those whom he had sworn to protect with his life…
…one last time…
Letting loose a frustrated roar after endless minutes of mind-wrestle with the boy, Galbatorix spunned around in a whirl of sumptuous velvet, his eyes twitching from suppressed anger. Then, taking an excruciatingly slow breath to calm himself, he turned on his heels to face Murtagh once again, frowning at the repressed glint of satisfaction he could see in those glowing green eyes…
‘Very fine, Murtagh…’ he said in a slippery voice. ‘Protect your ‘friends’ as long as you can… but you will have to face the consequences of your stubbornness.’
Mind-numbing pain exploded through Murtagh’s chest and he frantically pressed his hands to it, trying to stifle the burning fire that spread through his whole torso with agonising slowness. Fighting to remain conscious as his mind slowly lost focus from the loss of oxygen, he opened his mouth to refill his aching lungs but found himself unable to breath in…
Tongues of fire curled behind his eyes and he slowly lost all sight of his surrounding… the last thing he saw as he closed his eyes was the vivid, burning red by which he was being engulfed…
)))oOo(((
When he awoke again, after what felt like months of nightmares, there was no Darkness to sooth his pained soul.
Instead, he found himself in the middle of a richly decorated room, spread out on his belly on a painfully soft carpet with two big, glazed brown eyes lurking at him.
Startled, he made to crawl up to his hands an knees and chase whatever was looking at him so intently away but found his own body totally unresponsive. He fought the numbness a few seconds more before setting his mind to work.
Thinking… he was good at thinking. He could use his mind better than the most powerful sword if need be…
So instead of trying to chase the thing away, he just stared at it, trying to make himself appear as calm as possible so as not to scare it… a scared beast was not something he wanted to be faced with right now, knowing he couldn’t move a toe to save his life.
To his surprise, the beast in question was nothing but a big, fat brown dog, looking at him with un restrained curiosity as he struggled to get his body to respond his commands.
The dog, visibly bored out of it’s mind, stood suddenly and came to give his face a few, quick licks before it started sniffing the nape of his neck.
Wincing at the putrid smell of the animal’s breath, Murtagh closed his eyes and let his consciousness wander, shyly touching the dog’s simple mind.
Roll me over, he asked softly, his thoughts full of promises, images of hands stroking the beast’s ears to lure the animal into obeying him.
Visibly startled by the intrusion, the dog jumped back, staring at him with wild eyes as it seemed to consider its options. Then, almost timidly, the brown animal gave him a weak push in the shoulder, as if to roll him over.
Yes, good boy, just a bit harder…
Barking happily, the huge dog gave another push, harder this time…
In the few minutes, Murtagh ended up on his back, staring up at the masterful painting that covered the ceiling…
…dragons… everywhere.
He knew this painting… he had seen it in the past.
…
He was in his father’s room ! He was in Morzan’s quarter at Uru’baen !
No…
Concentrating on the binding charm that incapacitated him, Murtagh mentally shook himself and probed his surrounding with his consciousness, feeling the magic which numbed his muscles and slowly loosening the knots.
Sure, he couldn’t use magic the way, Galbatorix did, the way Eragon did… but all he needed was his consciousness, there, for the charm only prevented him from giving commands to his body. He just needed to free himself.
It took time, long, agonising minutes, but eventually, he felt the binds lift from his consciousness and was finally able to give a push, sit up…
… and face Galbatorix, whose amused little smile made his stomach turn and contort.
‘Took you long enough, young man.’ the man sighed, standing up at last. ‘I though you were tougher than that… was Tornac such a pitiful teacher ?’
Revolted but too weak to stand up, Murtagh fixed Galbatorix with a dark glare before spitting at his feet.
‘Tornac was a better teacher, and a better man than you will ever be…’
‘Such bad manners…’ the King sighed, shaking his head slowly before raising his marked hand towards Murtagh’s chest once again.
With a few uttered words, he lifted the young man up into a standing position, leaving him struggling with his legs to find his balance.
‘If you want to defy me, at the very least, you could do it with some dignity, standing, not cowering at my feet.’ he frowned.
‘I am not…’
‘Cowering ? Not yet, maybe… just wait until you see what I have in store for you today…’
Murtagh knew he had no chance of fighting him off as the Rider once again tried to force his way into his skull…
He knew he had no chance but still, he fought, snarling and growling low in his throat, slightly hunched to brace himself against the King’s mental assaults.
He was strong enough…
…he had to be.
)))oOo(((
End of first part… yeah yeah, not very inspired, yeah yeah, I was/am tired… yeah, bad English… yeah >___<.
I’m looking for someone who would be kind enough to beta me for the next chapters (and well, point out my mistakes in this one too xD).
Writing sad stuff makes me feel depressed… by the end of this fic, I will probably kill myself xD.
See ya around ^^ and have a nice day !
I hope there won't be too many mistakes... I'm still a little bit unsure of my english >____<.
I hope it's not too bad...
Title : The pros and cons of breathing
Author : Amy Shinomori
Characters : Murtagh, Galbatorix, Eragon, Saphira, Thorn. (well, later on, anyway)
Rating : R.
Disclaimer : Would I be there if I owned them ?
Warnings : none yet… maybe slash, but you would have to squint very hard.
Notes : Takes place after Murtagh’s ‘kidnapping’ by the twins. Wrote this while listening to ‘The pros and cons of breathing’ by fall out boy. Dude, I have a life… just not right now >___<.
The pros and cons of breathing
After days of unconsciousness, the only thing he noticed as he finally opened his burning eyes was the disturbing lack of colours…
…the lack of red.
He released a pained sigh as he let his sight adjust to the thick darkness surrounding him…
He didn’t care where he was… he just felt grateful for the relief this blessed nothingness brought him.
How did it come to this…?
His mind didn’t seem to register the cold gnawing at his bruised skin… there was darkness, blessed darkness, and it was all that mattered.
For Darkness was the only friend that he had left. The only friend that would never, ever, betray him.
Darkness was a constant were the light had always failed him.
Light exposed him.
He couldn’t stand the blinding light that seemed to make Eragon glow with the intensity of a new born sun…
Light made him see things that weren’t there… that would never be there.
Things like this warm feeling of belonging he got every time he looked Eragon in the eye… friendship, forgiveness… at last.
Lies… Light was full of treachery, making monsters look peaceful and harmless, hiding the glint in their eyes as they planned your demise.
Light-headed, for some reason he couldn’t quite place, Murtagh slowly rose from the floor, using his hands to grab at a moist wall for balance, listening intently for any sign of life in his surroundings.
Darkness made him hyperaware of his surrounding… aware of everything that went on around him. The damp floor under his naked feet, the stiffening smell of old, rotten wood, enveloping him… the slight brush of cold draft on his hyper-sensitised skin as a door cringed in it’s hinges on his right.
A ray of cold light crawled on the floor in his direction and Murtagh found himself flinching from it, pressing his sore back to cold stone in a vain attempt to remain shielded in the shadows.
‘Greetings, Murtagh, my young friend…’
And from the very bottom of his soul, the young man felt all trace of hope choke and contort before dissolving in a puff of rotten air.
Worst even than the treachery of Light and colours…
King Galbatorix’s triumphant chuckle as he crossed the room to stand in from of him, in all his glorious mightiness, embodiment of defeat in his youthful eyes.
‘How good it is to see you again… son of mine.’
Snarling into the shadows, every single muscle of his body tensing at the perspective of the upcoming fight, Murtagh bent slightly to glare at the King.
‘There is not an ounce of your blood in my veins, monster. The very idea of a parentage to you makes me sick to my stomach. I am no son of yours…’
‘Hush. Is this a way to address you Godfather, my young friend…?’ Galbatorix sniffles, brushing an imaginary tear off his cheek.
Then, letting a wide, malevolent grin spread his thin lips, he adds…
‘…you are my son, Murtagh, in everything but in blood. And you shall be treated as such…’
Flinching slightly as the King slowly forced his way into his mind, Murtagh squeezed his eyes shut in a vain effort to push the probing consciousness away, recoiling at the intense cold it left in it‘s wake.
…starting with your punishment, the Rider completed, brushing his barriers down with humiliating ease.
Cheeks burning with shame as the man in front of him let his consciousness overwhelm him, the young swordsman greeted his teeth, using every ounce of his will-power to keep the King away from what he desperately wanted to find, shielding the precious memories of his time with Eragon and Saphira with walls of metaphorical steel.
Feeling a sudden surge of boldness, he stood up straighter, glaring at the King in front of him, seething in barely restrained rage as he saw the maniacal smile spread on his face. He resisted the need to back up further against the wall and took on agonising step forward to use what little advantage he had on the old Rider : his height.
But it was not enough to win this kind of battle, that much, Murtagh knew; and therefore, he was not really surprised to see the mocking glint in those black pool Galbatorix had for eyes.
Still, strong with the conviction that he was tenacious enough to give the King a hard time acquiring what he craved to know, the young man kept on with his stubborn act, pushing at the alien consciousness with all his might, determined to fight and defend those whom he had sworn to protect with his life…
…one last time…
Letting loose a frustrated roar after endless minutes of mind-wrestle with the boy, Galbatorix spunned around in a whirl of sumptuous velvet, his eyes twitching from suppressed anger. Then, taking an excruciatingly slow breath to calm himself, he turned on his heels to face Murtagh once again, frowning at the repressed glint of satisfaction he could see in those glowing green eyes…
‘Very fine, Murtagh…’ he said in a slippery voice. ‘Protect your ‘friends’ as long as you can… but you will have to face the consequences of your stubbornness.’
Mind-numbing pain exploded through Murtagh’s chest and he frantically pressed his hands to it, trying to stifle the burning fire that spread through his whole torso with agonising slowness. Fighting to remain conscious as his mind slowly lost focus from the loss of oxygen, he opened his mouth to refill his aching lungs but found himself unable to breath in…
Tongues of fire curled behind his eyes and he slowly lost all sight of his surrounding… the last thing he saw as he closed his eyes was the vivid, burning red by which he was being engulfed…
)))oOo(((
When he awoke again, after what felt like months of nightmares, there was no Darkness to sooth his pained soul.
Instead, he found himself in the middle of a richly decorated room, spread out on his belly on a painfully soft carpet with two big, glazed brown eyes lurking at him.
Startled, he made to crawl up to his hands an knees and chase whatever was looking at him so intently away but found his own body totally unresponsive. He fought the numbness a few seconds more before setting his mind to work.
Thinking… he was good at thinking. He could use his mind better than the most powerful sword if need be…
So instead of trying to chase the thing away, he just stared at it, trying to make himself appear as calm as possible so as not to scare it… a scared beast was not something he wanted to be faced with right now, knowing he couldn’t move a toe to save his life.
To his surprise, the beast in question was nothing but a big, fat brown dog, looking at him with un restrained curiosity as he struggled to get his body to respond his commands.
The dog, visibly bored out of it’s mind, stood suddenly and came to give his face a few, quick licks before it started sniffing the nape of his neck.
Wincing at the putrid smell of the animal’s breath, Murtagh closed his eyes and let his consciousness wander, shyly touching the dog’s simple mind.
Roll me over, he asked softly, his thoughts full of promises, images of hands stroking the beast’s ears to lure the animal into obeying him.
Visibly startled by the intrusion, the dog jumped back, staring at him with wild eyes as it seemed to consider its options. Then, almost timidly, the brown animal gave him a weak push in the shoulder, as if to roll him over.
Yes, good boy, just a bit harder…
Barking happily, the huge dog gave another push, harder this time…
In the few minutes, Murtagh ended up on his back, staring up at the masterful painting that covered the ceiling…
…dragons… everywhere.
He knew this painting… he had seen it in the past.
…
He was in his father’s room ! He was in Morzan’s quarter at Uru’baen !
No…
Concentrating on the binding charm that incapacitated him, Murtagh mentally shook himself and probed his surrounding with his consciousness, feeling the magic which numbed his muscles and slowly loosening the knots.
Sure, he couldn’t use magic the way, Galbatorix did, the way Eragon did… but all he needed was his consciousness, there, for the charm only prevented him from giving commands to his body. He just needed to free himself.
It took time, long, agonising minutes, but eventually, he felt the binds lift from his consciousness and was finally able to give a push, sit up…
… and face Galbatorix, whose amused little smile made his stomach turn and contort.
‘Took you long enough, young man.’ the man sighed, standing up at last. ‘I though you were tougher than that… was Tornac such a pitiful teacher ?’
Revolted but too weak to stand up, Murtagh fixed Galbatorix with a dark glare before spitting at his feet.
‘Tornac was a better teacher, and a better man than you will ever be…’
‘Such bad manners…’ the King sighed, shaking his head slowly before raising his marked hand towards Murtagh’s chest once again.
With a few uttered words, he lifted the young man up into a standing position, leaving him struggling with his legs to find his balance.
‘If you want to defy me, at the very least, you could do it with some dignity, standing, not cowering at my feet.’ he frowned.
‘I am not…’
‘Cowering ? Not yet, maybe… just wait until you see what I have in store for you today…’
Murtagh knew he had no chance of fighting him off as the Rider once again tried to force his way into his skull…
He knew he had no chance but still, he fought, snarling and growling low in his throat, slightly hunched to brace himself against the King’s mental assaults.
He was strong enough…
…he had to be.
)))oOo(((
End of first part… yeah yeah, not very inspired, yeah yeah, I was/am tired… yeah, bad English… yeah >___<.
I’m looking for someone who would be kind enough to beta me for the next chapters (and well, point out my mistakes in this one too xD).
Writing sad stuff makes me feel depressed… by the end of this fic, I will probably kill myself xD.
See ya around ^^ and have a nice day !
I hope there won't be too many mistakes... I'm still a little bit unsure of my english >____<.