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Diverge from Fate	By : darkstar51 Category: A through F > Eragon Views: 4013 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Eragon, so no sue. I do however own the plot and any OC that i choose to put in, so steal and die. I make no money from this cause seriously who'd pay for it??

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Diverge from Fate

Prolog

A/N : So I haven’t posted here a fic in a long time, in any of the sites I’m on, however this just wouldn’t leave me alone… So I decided, why not just post the prolog and see if anyone’s interested in it. So yeah unless I get some positive reviews to boost my confidence this will be a one-shot. And if it becomes a one-shot… well I’ll be kinda disappointed since I had some good ideas for this…Also I might change the title since I can’t be content with it...

Anyone enough of my talking here it is.

Summary: Murtagh has defeated Eragon, and now the last free rider is a prisoner of Galbatorix. Using a spell, Eragon’s memories are erased and replaced by false ones. Saphira can do nothing for remembering might mean the death of her Rider. Now Murtagh has his hearts desire within his grasp, however how does he react to THIS Eraogon? MurXEra Yaoi, Incest, Lemon in following chapters

Disclaimer : If I owned it there would be MurEra galore. Sadly I don’t….So don’t sue me!!

Prolog

It had all been caused by a single mistake. A slight miscalculation and his carelessness, that allowed Murtagh and Thorn to overpower him and Saphira. The Varden had taken Belatona and had camped for the night. He had been foolish to let his guard down then. Exhausted from the battlefor Belatona, he had wanted to clear his mind and the noisy Varden camp had not been the place to do so. He decided to fly with Saphira along Leona Lake, in hindsight that was probably the most foolish this he could think to do. While they rested along Leona Lake, Murtagh and Thorn, who had been absent during the battle, appeared before them. HE cursed himself for not expecting something like that. He and Saphira had put up a valiant effort to fight back or at least get back to the camp so he could have the assistance of the elves, however it was no use. While almost equal when they were at full strength they stood no chance against the full power of Murtagh and Thorn after they had tired themselves out in battle.

He remembered Murtagh diving at him when Saphira and Thron flew close to the ground, he had been to shocked at the action he wasn’t able to dodge. Both of them fell to the ground as their dragons fought in the air. He had tried to wrestle Murtagh off him, but it was in vain. Despite the strength he gained from the Agaeti Blodhren, Murtagh had overpowered his tired limbs and pinned his arms above him. He was surprised at this and memories of they nights together came unbidden to his mind, distracting him. Murtagh took this chance to capture his lips and before Eragon could even process what was going on, his tongue was shoving something into the younger Rider’s mouth. Then his body went limp and the last thing he remembered was Saphira calling to his name in anguish, and something similar to regret in Murtagh’s eyes as he laid one final gentle kiss on his lips.

Eragon growled at the memory and all the painful emotions that came with it. Of all the things Murtagh could have done, kissing him simply to give him a drug to knock him unconscious was quite possibly the most painful. He would have much preferred being beaten to unconsciousness rather than the pain in his chest.

Shaking the thoughts out of his head he concentrated on trying to free himself, pulling furiously on the shackles binding his to the bedposts. He felt warm liquid, quite possibly blood, trickle from his wrists and down his arm, and he winced slightly in pain but continued his attempts.

“Stop that! You’re hurting yourself!” a familiar voice said as the reason for his frustrations entered his ‘prison’… if it could even be called that. He lay on a huge bed, covered by lavish blue silk, cushioning his head were soft pillows and from what he could see the room was fit for a prince. He silently wondered if the Empire had ran out of proper dungeons to put him in, if it weren’t for the fact he was a prisoner and was chained he would have found the room comfortable.

Glaring at the dark haired male, who had walked over to the side of the bed to look at him he scowled, saying each word with as much venom as he could muster. “And what do you care? Have you forgotten who brought me to be a prisoner here?” and just to spite the older male he continued pulling his wrists from the shackles, once in a while wincing as the cold metal bruised his skin.

Murtagh stared down at the struggling Rider, a frown on his lips. Of course he knew Eragon was doing this just to get to him and it was taking all his control not to grab his wrists and stop his struggles. If it could be helped he didn’t want to see the other in any sort of pain… for many reasons. Looking at the younger male, his mind couldn’t help but wander back to their first meeting, he had rescued the injured Eragon and then watched him mourn the death of Brom. The night of Brom’s death he could hear Eragon’s pained sobs and on a whim walked over to him to try and comfort him. However upon seeing the other’s tear-streaked face, he had done more than ‘comfort’. He had pulled Eragon to him and kissed him with a passion he didn’t know he could have for another person. Surprisingly enough, Eragon had returned the kiss, probably too exhausted from grieving and needing the comfort, that had been their first night together. After that he had traveled with Eragon, both because the brunette could mean his freedom from Glabatorix and because of his undeniable attraction to the Rider.

He had spent many nights wondering if that night wouldn’t be repeated and when they had rescued Arya and Eragon had shown interest towards her, he had nearly lost hope for any sort of reciprocation for what he felt. However, Eragon proved him wrong. As if taking Murtagh’s rescue of him as a sign he could be trusted, that very night Eragon, with a blushing face and fumbling words, had shown him that he did indeed feel something for Murtagh. Their nights together were quite possibly the only things that made the journey through the desert and then to the Varden bearable.

Murtagh couldn’t hep but frown at the changes in his half-brother. Of course it made him quite beautiful, no complaints there. However he couldn’t help but despise the strength now hidden beneath that beauty. ‘If he had been like that then, he wouldn’t have needed me…’ he thought to himself, anger rising both at the elves for making the changes in Eragon and at himself for detesting those changes.

Unbidden, he raised a hand to stroke the side of the scowling male’s cheek. Eragon flinched away from the touch, instinctively on guard for what Murtagh would do. The older male allowed a small pained smile to make its way to his face at that reaction. He couldn’t really blame Eragon, it was mostly his fault they were enemies. However that didn’t stop the pain he felt.

“Is this how we really are now?” he asked in a quiet voice, hoping as he always did that this was a nightmare and that he would wake up with Eragon still in his arms, camping at the Varden’s hideout.

Eragon’s eyes hardened at the question, refusing to show how hurt he was by their fates. From strangers, to travel companions, to friends, to lovers, to enemies, to brothers, to half-brothers and now this sick captor-prisoner relationship. He reached out for Saphira’s mind even as he responded to Murtagh. “You had your ch-“

“You KNOW I had no choice!” he immediately defended himself. It was even more painful for him to think Eragon thought he liked hurting him. Hurting Eragon was the last thing he wanted. If he had a choice he would keep Eragon away from all the fighting. He mentally laughed as the words he once told Eragon came back to his head. ‘You are so helpless, you force everyone to take care of you’. That had been his opinion in the past and it still was now. NO matter what the elves had done. He arched an eyebrow seeing the sudden panic in Eragon’s eyes. He instinctively knew what had caused it and tried to put the other at ease by saying. “Saphira’s safe. Thorn’s guarding her”

Eragon stared at his face then sneered. “How exactly is being a prisoner of the Empire safe?”

Before Murtagh could respond however , the door opened and a man in regal clothes of black walked in a calm smirk on his face. “Believe me, young rider, your situation could be worse.”

From the way Murtagh flinched and automatically stood in front of him, as if to defend Eragon, he immediately knew who the man was. He was the reason for the war, the madman who was the source of all this evil. Galbatorix. Fury rushed through Eragon’s veins. If only he could get himself lose he could end all this…or die trying..

Galbatorix turned to Murtagh. “You may leave now.” Murtagh seemed torn between the order and his instinct to protect Eragon, however his ‘oath’ with Galbatorix forced him to obey and with one last look at Eragon, he exited the room, leaning against the door and straining to hear what was going on inside.

However the walls were too thick to hear anything and Murtagh could only curse his inability to help, possibly, the one person he cared for. Panic overtook him as he heard Eragon’s yells. He was about to fling the door open, orders be damned, when it was opened from the inside and Galbatorix stepped out. The screams only grew louder as he was exposed to its full volume and his heart clenched. “Feel free to guard him in your room now. He won’t run.” Galbatorix smiled cruelly at him before walking past him. Taking that as a sign that he could enter Murtagh rushed into the room and to Eragon’s side.

The younger rider’s hands were released and clutching his head, as he screamed doubled over on his side. Murtagh pulled Eragon to him, cradling his head and fear taking over reason as he saw how pale the other was. He whispered soothing words into his ear, “Eragon, shh, he’s gone now. Tell me what he’s done. Eragon, please, tell me where does it hurt.. Eragon..”

It was no good, however, as the brunette continued to scream, lost in his pain. Murtagh helplessly stroked his back trying to ease his pain. A few more minutes later the screams stopped and Eragon went limp in his hold. Murtagh looked down at him. His face was pale and streaked with tears and he was shivering as if plagued by nightmares. Sighing, the dark haired male stood up, Eragon in his arms and carried him to his room.

~~
A/N : Okay I know its short. This is like just half of the prolog but I don’t really want to continue it if there’s no one going to read it so please review and tell me what you think and whether I should continue it. Also pardon any mistake here since I don’t have a beta to check this, in fact I’m looking for one preferably one who can force me to write cause I can be somewhat lazy. Anyway please review.
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Diverge from Fate