For Alagaesia: 82. A life of agony

Soft cotton always was her favourite. There was a time in Tronjheim when she always slept in the softest and neatest cotton bed in the city. The fabric wrapped itself around her like a dear lover clings onto his beloved after he comes back from a tiring day of work. And she loved the feeling.

Waking up in such a neat and soft cotton bed, Nasuada felt right at home. For long, she had had to make do with wooden and stone beds both at the Varden and at Morzan’s dilapidated castle. Although the bed was comfortable, her eyes stung when opened.

A severe headache too joined her stinging eyes to annoy her. But once she had cleared her head enough to think straight, she wondered where she was. Was this room a part of Angvard’s halls? She had died after all, hadn’t she? Killed by her own hands, in an attempt to escape from the clutches of Galbatorix.

When she thought of the dark king who ruled from Uru’baen, she shivered. Gods! The malice and cruelty in his smile! But then why would she worry about all that now? She was safely delivered to Angvard for where else was there such a room of comfort? The sweet fragrance of incense and the singing of the song birds from outside told her that she was indeed in heaven.

The bright and white curtains that hid the outside from her view danced to the tunes of the breeze blowing from the garden outside. The tantalising smell of food placed on a table near the window wafted in with the breeze, making Nasuada’s stomach grumble. It had been so long since she ate such good food.

Hungry and feeling rather comfortable, she pushed the bed sheet off of her and headed for the rest room. That was when she noticed the bandage tied around her waist. Alarm shot through her as she pressed the area where she buried the sword and felt a slight pain.

‘Where am I? Was I healed? Could Galbatorix have taken me prisoner? But then, why am I not in a rotten underground cellar?’ These and thousand other questions reared their heads in her mind. Her head reeled and she was about to fall down when she saw the door to her room being opened and Murtagh step in.

“Murtagh?” She breathed feeling secure unconsciously. Over the course of the few months she had been in contact with him, she had come to trust the dragon rider.

Eragon’s half brother hung his head down as if he felt guilty. But he never acknowledged her.

“Murtagh, what is happening? Where are we?” Nasuada asked, her hope falling every second she watched him.

“I am sorry, Nasuada. I had to heal you. I just could not let you die.” He said in a sad voice.

Clouds of confusion shrouded Nasuada’s mind. Why would he be sorry to heal her? Did that mean she was now a prisoner? “Heal me? Am I not… dead then? Where are we, Murtagh?”

“Let me answer that for my loyal slave, my lady,” a lilting voice said from the door.

She peered around Murtagh with wide eyes at the new entrant. It was as she had feared. Galbatorix had not let her die. She began to comprehend just how much Murtagh and Eragon must have struggled before the former gave up and the latter escaped. Was she ready for such treatment? But those thoughts took a backseat when she took in the king’s appearance.

He was waiting at the door as if seeking her permission to enter the room wearing richer clothes than before and with a glint in his eyes. So she was in Uru’baen and had mistaken it for heaven. Unbeknownst to herself, she let out a short mirthless laugh.

“Amused, my lady? Or just happy to be in the company of your lover?” Galbatorix asked.

Nasuada could not believe it. Murtagh had betrayed her. There was a slim chance that she could have attributed her presence in those wild parts of Alagaesia to her deserting the Varden. But now that Galbatorix knew of her intentions, he was sure to remind her of the unfortunate connection over and over again.

She steeled herself for what was to follow. But Galbatorix’s line of thought went in a very different way than she imagined it would. “Murtagh, my boy, do you realise how much similar you and your father are?” The king asked.

Murtagh remained silent. Nasuada glared at him. He had promised her a life free of Galbatorix but had failed to keep it. Seeing her reaction, the king raised his eyebrows like he was surprised.

“You don’t know, my lady? I brought you here half dead and left you with the healers to try and revive you. But then my slave here found you and brought you back from death with his sheer will.” The dark king explained crushing her mind even further. Murtagh couldn’t let her die. For some reason, in a faraway corner of her mind a light was lit at that thought. “You see that was when I saw the connection… why couldn’t he watch you die? What was between the two of you? And him being my loyal slave had to tell me every bit of your epic romance. Bravo!! Even Brom and Selena could not match your epicness.”

Nasuada was fuming. Murtagh wouldn’t let her die and he won’t protect her from the evil king. What was he trying to gain? A companion who would be like him - serving under Galbatorix so that his shame would be shared?

“My King,” Murtagh spoke up sounding respectful, “Nasuada has left the Varden. Would you please free her… as a favour to me?”

Galbatorix grinned like a madman making Murtagh flinch. “A favour to you? From me? What have you done for me except betraying me time and time again? Anyway, you don’t understand, my boy… your lover did not desert the Varden. She is believed to be killed by my henchmen,” said the king, his face radiating bliss, “Think of their expression when they know that she herself is my henchwoman! Oh, that would be one for the ages!! Ever since that bastard Glaedr broke my defenses, I have been anxious. No more!!! With her, I will emotionally break the Varden down and then decimate their ranks.”

With that said, he turned towards Nasuada. She knew what was coming and so brought up her mental defenses in which she had been trained from childhood keeping in mind this eventuality. But the attack that came her way was like nothing she had ever faced. It was as if a sharp yet stout spear had impaled itself in the centre of her heart and was trying to tug it out of her chest.

She panicked for a second before her natural resolve took over and she resisted Galbatorix with all that she had. She would risk dying but not lose her freedom. She could withstand hurting herself in the trial of long knives and she was positive that she could hold off Galbatorix out of her mind.

A minute later, Galbatorix let go of her mind and eyed her from top to bottom. “That fool Eragon chose a worthy liege lord, I see.” He said.

The following days were anything but eventful. The life she was living at Uru’baen was just the opposite of what she had expected from it. She had food befitting royalty and rooms that could only be termed the height of luxury. There wasn’t any interference from Galbatorix after that first day and ever since she was just accompanied by ten or so men wherever she went in the castle much like there were night-hawks for her at the Varden; only that these guards were to prevent her from trying to escape.

Murtagh kept visiting her, but she refused to speak to him. She responded only to Thorn. The red dragon informed her that he was sorry for her imprisonment and that he would do everything within his power to keep her out of Galbatorix’s mental command. She believed him when he said so but she doubted he could do anything against Galbatorix now that the king knew of every help the dragon had rendered the Varden by way of providing information about the empire’s moves in advance.

Nearly three weeks passed like this and Nasuada was beginning to feel ashamed of herself. She was hailed as the architect of the largely successful rebellion against Galbatorix and here she was enjoying the foods and luxuries of the very same king. It wasn’t as if she didn’t try to get away from his clutches. She did and had even succeeded in getting out into the city. But Murtagh had hunted her down and brought her back to the castle.

For that and for everything else she heartily hated Murtagh. He was the reason she had to live in constant terror of losing her mental freedom. And on this day, like every other one, Murtagh came to visit her. But something had changed in him. He looked sadder than usual. If she wasn’t so against him, she could even tell that he looked anguished.

She even thought of asking what was wrong with him since he spoke nothing ever since he came. On other days he would inform her of the goings-on even though he knew she would ignore them altogether. But today he was entirely silent.

Seeing him in such a vulnerable state hurt her. She didn’t know why but she wanted to comfort him. She got up from her seat and walked to him. She was about to kneel beside him when the door to her room opened. She was distressed to see Galbatorix walk in with a swagger towards them. Murtagh stood from his seat as soon as the king came in. “My King,” he bowed low.

Galbatorix nodded at Murtagh and turned his attention towards her. “I hope my humble castle was to your liking my lady?” He asked.

Nasuada wanted to get under the skin of the king. If she couldn’t get her freedom, she would as well be a thorn under his skin. “Not as warm as the halls of Tronjheim; nor as peaceful as the castle of Aberon. Otherwise it was all nice and good.” She said in a mocking tone.

Galbatorix however did not seem to take offense at all. “This part of the castle was built by the creepy elves. So it is to be expected.” He brushed her complaints aside by mocking the elves for good measure.

Nasuada did not reply. She was hyper-aware that the king could launch a mental attack on her at any moment. And if he did, she wasn’t sure if she could hold him off for long. She vividly remembered the first and last time he had tried a mental attack on her. The attack had lasted for just about a minute but her head throbbed for the next two days. What if he keeps up his attack for a few more minutes this time? But when Galbatorix looked to her next, Murtagh blocked his view.

“What do you want Murtagh?” Galbatorix asked, his annoyance at being interrupted showing through.

“My king, this is a day of great triumph for you. Your success today has tipped the fortunes in your favour once and for all. So… is it still necessary that….” He trailed off.

Nasuada’s heart beat a thousand times as fast as it would normally. A success? What had the cruel king wrought that was more powerful than even the Eldunari? But she had not the time to think of these things for Galbatorix barked like a mad dog just then.

“Step aside boy. Those rebels need a lesson and I plan to teach it through this woman. She will be my trophy and with her I will cut the heads of those two riders!”

Murtagh fell to his knees literally begging with the king for her. “I will personally behead Eragon and that elf, my lord! But please don’t involve her in this. Please, let her go!”

“Ah, love! As blind in it as your father I see.” Galbatorix said in an amused voice. “Morzan has really come back to me in your form, my boy. You are your father’s son. Truly and completely. I still remember him begging before me like you do now.”

Nasuada actually felt pity for the dragon rider begging for her sake. Yes, she hated him for saying that he would behead Eragon and Arya but then when she thought that it was all said for her safety, she could not hate Murtagh. She knew how much Murtagh respected Eragon as a man and loved him as a brother. If he was ready to behead him for her sake, how much he should care for her!

“My lord! Please…. Use my head for your foot-rest but please… let her be.” Murtagh cried, clinging to Galbatorix’s legs like a child would to its mother’s foot.

“My My!” Galbatorix exclaimed, “These are the very words Morzan used when I wanted to take Selena in! Hear their tale Murtagh. At least then you will realise how futile your demands are.”

Murtagh fell to the ground in a heap, having been pushed aside by Galbatorix from his feet. Nasuada rushed to his side and lifted him up. “I am sorry,” he moaned.

“Nearly twenty three years ago, I sent Morzan on a trip to the northern towns of my empire to quell the rebellion there. Can you believe it? The farmers revolted saying the tax levied on them was too high. Anyway… I heard that when Morzan came back, he brought a beautiful young lady with him. I didn’t take much notice of it because it was customary of noble men to keep pretty women close.” Galbatorix narrated after the style of a professional storyteller.

“But then I learned that he taught her healing spells. I had known Morzan for a while and so I knew it was his ambition to be a healer. This piqued my curiosity. But then things turned for the worse when news reached me that the young lady was pregnant with Morzan’s child - you.” Galbatorix sighed heavily at this point. Murtagh was glaring at the king for he sensed, much like Nasuada, that the king had done something terrible to his mother.

“I summoned Selena to my court. Morzan accompanied her even though I had tasked him on some other project. The situation was so funny. A beautiful pregnant young lady from a small and sleepy town walking in Galbatorix’s court, a dutiful Morzan holding her hand. I wanted to check out what was so special in your mother then. So I put her to a test.” Galbatorix paused his tale at this point and peered into Murtagh’s face. The rider of Thorn stiffened slightly but did not show much emotion in his face. Galbatorix said, “Tsk! Boring eh?” and continued with the tale.

“I brought forth five convicted criminals from her sleepy little town; convicted for protesting tax rises! How dare they? Anyway, I brought them to my court from the dungeons and asked your mother to execute them with a sword.”

Murtagh jerked his head up and glowered at Galbatorix. The evil king acted as if he didn’t notice Murtagh’s reaction.

“She refused of course! But then I had forgotten to mention one critical point. If she failed to kill them, you Murtagh, you would be aborted while still in her womb.”

Diamond-like teardrops gathered on Murtagh’s eyes. Nasuada held him close to her chest wanting to lent him her warmth against the cold tale of his mother.

“When I mentioned it to her, you should have seen her face! I thought she was going to refuse and lose you. But she closed her eyes and began to chant the ancient language. She healed them. Off their senses. And having reduced them to senseless grinning idiots, she struck down each one of them with mighty blows. It was an impressive display - the place from where I learned the painless super-soldier idea. It was a shame that she lost conscience before I could felicitate her.”

Murtagh closed his eyes hearing this brutal tale of forcing a soft natured woman to kill her friends. The hot tears from his eyes rolled on his cheeks. Nasuada squeezed his shoulder letting him know that she was with him.

“Stop it! I don’t want to hear anymore!! Please stop!” Murtagh screamed all of a sudden.

“Oh, but you should Murtagh! You should know the consequences of resisting my plans.” Galbatorix said and continued with the story:

“So the next day after your mother gained conscience, I asked her to duel five of my best swordsmen. Again, failure to defeat them would result in your abortion. And again, your mother proved her mettle as she quickly healed my swordsmen of their talent and then worked to relieve them of their senses and then struck them down. This time, however I was able to congratulate your mother for she did not faint like the last time. I also named her Morzan’s black hand at that event!”

Murtagh wept tears streaming down his face and leaning against Nasuada for support. Nasuada had only now begun to comprehend how much cruel Galbatorix was. What tortures he would have subjected Thorn to as a baby to get Murtagh’s real name and why Eragon had been so closed down after he was rescued from Uru’baen.

“Love! So much of love!” The king sung. “Never has one child been showered with as much love as your mother showered on you. After you were born, I used your life to threaten Selena into going on missions for which she was well suited. The kinds where brutal killing of rebels was required. Morzan grew afraid that this fate would befall you too when you grew up. You see, he wanted to save you from me… And for that he struck you down with Zar’roc.”

Murtagh sat up straight hearing this. It was obvious that he had hated Morzan for giving him the scar on his back. But now that he knew that it was done to protect him from Galbatorix, Murtagh saw everything he knew in a new light. Nasuada was glad that she was with him through this episode. She was afraid of what might happen if Murtagh had to go through this torturous story alone.

Galbatorix continued, not caring of what his story was doing to Murtagh. “Selena was disillusioned at this act of cowardice by Morzan. She took you under her wing completely from that day. But I should have known! None could have healed such a wound created by a rider’s blade. None except the best healers in Alagaesia. Brom was always a cunning magic user. I should have seen his hand in your healing. But I trusted your mother’s ability a bit too much. By the time, I discovered that it was Brom who had healed you, matters had gone too far and that bastard Eragon was born. You nearly mended the wounds when Selena came running back to my castle after giving birth to that accursed boy to look after you. But that Eragon killed my black hand before she could become useful to me again! And his blasted father, Brom killed Morzan.”

Nasuada felt tears welling up in her eyes. Selena’s story was among the most tragic ones she had ever heard. Being loved by two dragon riders; yet unable to live past her thirtieth year. Mother to two sons who are at the centre of the struggle for power in Alagaesia; yet unable to see the two of them grow.

Murtagh seemed to be frozen in place hearing his mother’s story. Nasuada shook him slightly to bring him back and as soon as he regained composure, he began to wail as if in mourning. Tremors racked his body as he cried away his sorrow and resentment. Nasuada wrapped an arm around him protectively and held him close to her.

Galbatorix eyed the two of them and then smiled. “No matter. Twenty years later, I have my Morzan and Selena back. I only need to ensure that no Brom comes along this time around!”

Nasuada was so engrossed with comforting Murtagh that she failed to keep her mental defenses up. When she realised it, she scrambled to think of her father’s smile that always helped her hold out mental attacks but all her mind remembered was a picture of Selena that Eragon had showed her once. ‘How much pain had that serene face hid behind it?’ She thought sadly.

And so when the great mental spear of Galbatorix was thrown at her mental wall, it crumbled like it was made of wet clay. Pain like no other ripped through her head. She brought up both her hands to hold her head and fell to the floor writhing on it like she was a worm thrown near hot embers. She felt her whole life flow like a river before her eyes. She knew in some distant corner of her mind that this was not supposed to happen. Before long, she embraced the waiting blackness, glad that she could take refuge in the dark.

When she woke next, her head throbbed horribly. But her frame was neatly placed in the soft cotton bed of her chambers. Confused, she looked about her only to find a grinning Galbatorix looking down on her like a caring father. She wanted to vomit at that spot for having allowed a man of such disgusting character to get that close to her.

“Thank you, my lady. I have been waiting for two hours for you to wake so that I could convey my gratitude for sharing all that was to you with me. Believe me when I say that you are an exquisite creature. A very apt replacement for Selena, indeed. I will come back tomorrow and let you know your true name.” So saying he turned around. Nasuada’s heart raced and she sweated all over. He had gained access to my mind! He read my whole being!!

Once she registered the gravity of her situation, she slapped her forehead with her palm repeatedly like a madwoman. She was at the dark king’s mercy now. At any moment he could divine her true name and make her swear fealty to him.

“Oh, don’t waste away your energy hitting yourself!” Galbatorix said from the door. “Your lover needs your attention.” And then he closed the door and was gone.

Vexed and angry at herself, Nasuada screamed out her agony. Where was Murtagh? Where was the fool who was responsible for all this? She found the said man sitting in a corner of her room. She would have believed him dead had he not been sobbing. There was an empty expression on his face that said he had lost what little connection he had to the living world.

An unimaginable fit of rage came over her. The feeling of being utterly and entirely helpless made her mad. She hurled anything she could get her hands on to the opposite wall. She screamed over and over again cursing herself and all who had put her in this undeserving spot.

Most of all, she wanted not to be another Selena. She was afraid that she wouldn’t be able to be as strong as the lady from Carvahall. She didn’t want Murtagh to be subjected to the life of Morzan. She had to stop it. Something had to be done.

‘There is always a way, Nasuada,’ her father had said when she had complained about there being no way she could complete the homework set for her by her instructor. She had believed it then and she would believe it now. There must be a way to escape the life of Selena and help Murtagh out of the life of Morzan. There wasn’t a Brom to help her like Selena had but she would find a way. She had to…

She closed her eyes and prayed to every god she believed in and every ancestor of hers living in heaven and hell. They had to show her a way. ‘There is always a way. There must be a way. Show me the way. Help me out. Please! Help me!!’

A light soft and red called to her from inside her and she saw in it a way to salvation. She ran towards it and it became brighter and brighter as she neared it. It was so strong and brilliant when she was in touching distance that she had to close her eyes to touch it. ‘Show me a way. Please show me a way!’

As soon as her hands touched the reddish light, it spread through her, filling every bit of her existence with warmth. All around her was a bright white land that glowed like the sun. She found a tiny artifact in the midst of all the brightness. It was a folded parchment and it called to her. She frowned at it but picked it up anyway. As soon as her hand wrapped around it, she was thrown out of the light rudely.

She came back to her senses and to her surprise found that she was holding the folded parchment in her hand. Murtagh jumped to his feet as soon as he laid eyes on that parchment. His eyes were lively and there was a sparkle in them that she had seen only once before: when he fought alongside her during the battle of Farthen Dur against Durza’s urgals.

Author's Note:

Hope you liked this chapter. It may have sounded too much like a history lesson but as they say: Past is the architect of Present. The final parts are meant to confuse you. So don't worry if you are thoroughly confused. Sorry for this sudden burst of mutual feelings between Nasuada and Murtagh. I figured the two basically felt close to each other already and the situation only made them realise it. Murtagh looks like a vulnerable little child in this chapter rather than the cold and collected man that he is and that is intentional. Basically, Murtagh's cold air is built around a few concrete pillars:

1. Selena's apparent affection for Eragon over himself

2. Brom's interference in his life by taking his mother away

3. Morzan's lack of love for him

When all three notions were broken, he naturally has had to rebuild his world view from scratch. Besides his love for Nasuada makes him beg with Galbatorix.