Author’s Note: So it’s been a year today since I first started writing down this story and I can’t believe the attention it’s gotten. I know it’s not the most popular, nor the best written, nor the most interesting story on this site, but considering that I decided to write this simply because I needed a hobby and decided to post it online so that I could feel that I was being held accountable to actually keep up a hobby, I’m very pleased with where it’s gotten to.
I had never expected anyone to read it, but I’m grateful to all those who do, and even more so to those who leave a comment about how they like it, or how to improve it, or even just send me a message to tell me to pull my finger out and update—you know who you are.
Thanks for staying with me.
* * *
Lorena woke with a start.
She pushed herself upright and glanced around the room. The partition to the courtyard was open as usual, and a slight cool breeze blew into the bedchamber. The room was murky, the only light emanating from the moon glowing off the marble dragon.
With a sigh she collapsed back onto the bed, curling up on her right side and watching the dragon while she tried to remember what it was that she had dreamt. A weight shifted behind her and she held her breath, hoping luck was on her side.
She heard the King grumble, then his movements ceased. Releasing the breath she had been holding she slipped out of the bed. She gave his sleeping form a glare then made her way to the fountain, where she sat on the wall and thought about what might have been if not for her and Murtagh’s capture and imprisonment.
* * *
Murtagh studied Thorn as he got dressed. The dragon now reached up to his hip, with thick muscular hind legs bigger than his own thigh. As he watched, he turned a red eye on him, Murtagh.
Yes, Thorn. Murtagh pulled on a boot and wondered if Galbatorix knew that Thorn had started to speak.
Murtagh.
And how long it would take for Thorn to increase his vocabulary.
* * *
After her handmaidens left, carrying her breakfast tray, Lorena decided she had to see Murtagh again. The day before teased her, and now she felt that she had to talk to him, had to touch him. Now she understood how Murtagh had felt.
She waited a few minutes before slipping out of the chambers. The hallway was clear and she turned left, then followed the path she believed she had taken during her last wonder through the castle. Hoping she wouldn’t be stopped by anyone Lorena nodded at anyone she passed, but hurried away before they could speak to her. It felt like hours had passed before she spotted a familiar form.
Murtagh closed the door he had just emerged from and began walking away from her. With no one else in sight—but fearing that someone may be in ear shot—Lorena didn’t dare to call out. Instead she quickened her pace, cutting down the hall, trying to get in front of him before he got too far away. She had just stepped behind him when he suddenly stopped and spun.
She stifled a cry as he grabbed her, eyes burning, before he recognised her. He glanced up and down the hall, then dragged her off through a door. Once inside Lorena pulled herself from his grip and surveyed the room. It appeared to be a dining hall, with an oak table and heavy chairs. The walls were dotted with lanterns, producing enough light to see by. She heard Murtagh behind her, whispering in the ancient language before a hand gripped her upper arm and spun her around, crushing her against a hard chest.
“Don’t sneak up on me like that!”
“I didn’t sneak up on you,” she hissed, “and keep your voice down.”
“I cast a silencing spell, and what do you call it?”
“I was trying to get in front of you, so you’d know I was there. I was trying to be subtle!”
“Good job,” he replied sarcastically, “If you’re trying to be subtle then you shouldn’t all but run. I could hear just from your footsteps that something was wrong. I’m sure that if anyone had seen you they would have been suspicious.”
“Fine,” she said as she pushed herself away from his chest, “I’ll be more careful.”
“Where do you think you’re going?” Murtagh asked, then pulled her back to him. Warm lips pressed against hers and she melted against him. When he pulled away she sighed contently, then rested her head in the crook of his neck. He was warm, and his scent familiar, she couldn’t help but close her eyes and relax. This was what she had wanted.
“I’ve seen you twice in as many days, what a treat.”
She felt his body vibrate as he chuckled, then placed kisses against her hair. “This is the kind of meeting I prefer.”
“What were you doing before I snuck up on you?” she asked, running her fingers over the hollow at the base of his neck.
“I’m between magic and training lessons, so I had just gone to see Thorn.”
“Thorn’s locked up?”
“In my bedchambers,” Murtagh replied grimly, “until he’s old enough it’s the only safe place for him. He’s getting close to training age, but not quite.”
Opening her eyes she looked up at him. “You’re bedchambers are just down the hall?”
He revealed white teeth. “Did you want to see them?”
Pushing him away he fell onto the table top, and she pointed a finger at him. “Behave yourself.”
“What did I do?” he asked innocently, holding his hands up. Lorena raised an eyebrow and sat on one of the available chairs.
“You’ll never guess what happened yesterday.”
Murtagh dropped his hands. “What?”
“I hit him.”
“Who?”
“Galbatorix.”
“Congratulations,” he murmured, “how badly did he beat you in return?”
“No, Murtagh, you don’t understand. Whenever I’ve tried to hit him in the past I’ve just bounced off his wards. Yesterday though, I managed to strike him across the chest.”
Murtagh looked at her, calculatingly. “What were the circumstances?”
“What do you mean?”
“How did it happen? What was different this time compared to the other times?”
“The other times I had wanted to hurt the bastard. This time, it was an accident. I hadn’t intended to hit him.”
“So you just touched him?” Murtagh looked disappointed, “That’s not the same thing.”
“I know it’s not! But I didn’t touch him, I struck him. It was hard.”
“How did you do it?”
“I tried to splash him, but I had water in my eyes and couldn’t see, so instead of hitting water I hit him.”
“You bathed together.” Murtagh stared at her, his lips a white line.
“No,” Lorena claimed sternly, “he pushed me into the fountain.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
“I don’t know. For his amusement? Why does he do anything that he does.”
Murtagh sighed and ran a hand over his face. “I’m just surprised that your oaths didn’t stop you anyway.”
“My oaths?”
“Yes, the oaths Galbatorix made you swear. Do you happen to remember what they were?”
“Murtagh,” Lorena said slowly, staring at him, “I haven’t sworn any oaths.”
“What?” His hand fell, and a shocked expression settled over his face. “You’ve sworn no oaths?”
She shook her head. “None that I can think of.”
“Well think!” he shouted, rising to his feet, “Anything, have you sworn anything in the ancient language?”
She racked her mind, trying to think over the past however many weeks she’d been locked up in the capital. “I don’t believe so,” she started, then saw his face flush red in anger, “No! I haven’t. None whatsoever.”
“That fool,” Murtagh seemed to say to himself, then raised his voice to a full shout, “That fool!”
Lorena glanced at the door, not trusting the strength of the silencing spell. She tried to speak then realised he was laughing, a noise that sounded like a man almost mad. He turned to her, wiping at the corner of an eye, cracking a grin that scared her more than comforted.
“You haven’t sworn any oaths,” he stated again, smile becoming larger than she thought possible, “not one.”
“Murtagh,” she breathed, standing to take his hand between hers, “you’re frightening me.”
“You have nothing to be frightened of, my love.” He grasped the back of her neck and pulled her to him. His lips crashed against hers, hungry and fierce, domineering and maddening. Panicked Lorena didn’t know whether to submit or fight, but then it was over and he was staring down at her with storming eyes. “You’re getting out of here, and you’re taking Thorn with you.”