Inheritance Cycle 1. Prologue and Author's Introduction

Author's Note: I just want to explain where this came from. A while ago, I wrote a one-shot called Serenity, a brief look into the often ignored mind of the mysterious Galbatorix. For a while, it was enough. Over time, it began to bother me. Who was Galbatorix? What was his past? How did he reach power? I could not figure out how to tie it together.

One day, the radio began playing Coldplay's "Viva La Vida." The song was catchy enough. I downloaded it soon after, and began listening to it. The fateful moment was when I first finished Brisingr. I listened to this song soon after. It was like a lightbulb went off. Galbatorix was the cast down king!

And so I give you Viva La Vida. This story will have five chapters, will go through all of the lyrics, and eventually lead to Galbatorix's death. I hope you enjoy.

* * *

"Hello, young Rider," said Galbatorix, smiling at Eragon, looking completely calm, "I've been waiting for you." Eragon grinned at Galbatorix.

"I have a small proposition for you. Take a seat." Eragon felt himself pushed down into a seated position. He began to fight back as Galbatorix continued. He just needed to stay alive long enough for everything to come into play.

"Now, all I've wanted to do is find peace. The old Riders were corrupt. I believed that I could help start a new revolution. The old ones, they all spurned the poor. I have had plans, you see, big plans…" Eragon smiled at the man, looking amused at his ramblings. Suddenly, Murtagh hit Galbatorix on the head with Zar'roc, laughing maniacally. The man passed out and Eragon was freed from the spell.

* * *

"What did you do to me?" I cried out, looking at the two brothers.

"You see, Galbatorix, I realized I could not kill you outright," Eragon began, "So I've killed your dragon and taken your magic. I made sure to leave you sane, let you wander and feel guilt. I am not an executioner. You will be given three days to get away from here. After that, if Murtagh or I find you, we will kill you."

"How can Murtagh fight against me? I know his real name! It is…" I found myself stumbling over his name. Eragon laughed, a laugh echoed by Murtagh. I nearly flinched from the amount of malice in their voices.

"Lost your tongue? Murtagh has changed since you first captured him. In fact, he has changed so much that his name is no longer the same. Do not forget that you also lack the power you once had. You are powerless. Now go!"

I felt myself fly out the doors, which closed behind me, locking. How could I have reached this state?


	2. Pillars of Salt, Pillars of Sand

_I used to rule the world/Seas would rise when I gave the word._

I could remember the first time I had met my dragon. Jarnunvösk was the most beautiful creature I had ever met, and she quickly became my best friend. With her, I never felt weak. I was invincible, unstoppable. There were none better than me, and I knew that the Riders saw my strength.

The Riders loved me. I was their treasure, their best student, and the one best suited to rule the Riders one day. My Jarnunvösk flew with ease, and being with her was so simple, like breathing. I had not seen another Rider with a relationship quite like ours. I knew we were special, and they knew it as well. With my Jarnunvösk, my world was complete.

_Now in the morning I sleep alone/Sweep the streets I used to roam_

Then there was the day I lost her. It was an ambush, and those Urgals… the disgusting creatures… I cannot bear to think about those injuries my Jarnunvösk received. They slaughtered her. Her wings, once magnificent, were butchered. I remember watching one of those things take a piece of a wing and eat it. The idea still makes me want to vomit. I wanted to stop them, but I felt too weak. I had lost far too much to have the strength to react as I should and protect my own. I thought I would go mad.

As madness nearly overtook me, I thought of a brilliant idea. I could easily reclaim my own and have another dragon. I could take revenge on those Urgals for killing my dragon, the one and only love of my life. I went to the Riders, begging for another dragon, another chance to truly live.

Those old meddling men! I felt used as they turned me away. It was less than a year ago that they had been telling me that I would become the leader of the Riders, that I was the most brilliant student they had ever had. I know I had not changed since then. I had only lost my dragon, and I could easily take my place once more among the Riders. The fools did not see this, and I was cast out.

Taking a moment away from my memories, I looked down the empty street. I turned my head and saw nobody. Continuing my stroll, I walked down the streets I once ruled, remembering Morzan, the innocent child, the good man who helped me as I destroyed the fools. He knew my goals and my mind better than few before, and he would never betray me. I trusted him more than the others, always had and thought I always would. I allowed him his little comforts, more than I gave any of the other Forsworn. Those were the good days…

_I used to roll the dice/Feel the fear in my enemy's eyes_

I was magnificent. Although Shruiken could never replace my Jarnunvösk, he was a good ally during those years. He always listened, always opened his mind to mine and lent me power. He was noble, and more importantly, he was terrifying to behold, especially to the old Riders. I remember the look on Vrael's face as he saw my Shruiken rise to attack. The black dragon scared Vrael. I nearly laughed, but I remembered quickly where I was and that I was supposed to be killing Vrael. We dueled, and he almost had me defeated. I still remember that moment, so vividly.

"Do you regret it?" he asked, looking sad. I had been one of his best pupils. I simply laughed in response. He flinched, afraid of what I had become. He definitely had a reason. I was powerful, strong, and I had my own way of fighting. What chance did he have against me? Those were the last words I heard from him before I beheaded him. I felt a small surge of sadness from Shruiken, but I quickly wiped it away. I should have known that it would not last, with a dragon turned against me, but that fear I saw in the eyes of the Riders…I lived for it.

_Listen as the crowd would sing/Now the old king is dead! Long live the king!_

I remember the proud day when I took the throne. The crowds at my feet cheered as I spoke of a new time, a new history to be made of my Empire. Even as they cheered, I could not help but feel a little disappointed that there was so little fight in the elves and dwarves. I had looked forward to a violent and bloody conflict. They would have made perfect slaves, and to make them work together under one roof at the same task. It would have been beautiful to break down their minds, see what makes them tick, and destroy them. They never did anything for me, so why should I want to see them live happily? If my Jarnunvösk could not be happy, then why should they?

"Praise the new order, the new way of life. Welcome, citizens of Alagaësia, to our united Empire!" I had shouted, Shruiken at my side. He breathed fire into the air, and the crowd continued to cheer.

_One minute I held the key/Next the walls were closed on me_

A century has passed faster than I could have ever imagined. I find myself returned to the same street on which I once stood, worshiped by all of Alagaësia. It's hard for me to understand what happened.

Everything was so perfect with the Forsworn by my side, but I began to grow nervous. Shruiken informed me that the dragons outside of my Forsworn were starting to rebel against my will, and my precious dragons were losing their minds. I tried to hold onto their names, the very beings of these creatures, but they were lost. This chaos, this pain, is something I can imagine being almost as painful as my loss. To break a dragon's soul into nothing is a cruel idea, and these wild dragons took it all away. Not only were the minds of these dragons lost, but five of my Wyrdfell went insane. I am fortunate that they took pity on Shruiken.

Slowly, my plans fell apart. One of my precious three dragon eggs was stolen. The eight left of the Wyrdfell were killed through the tricks of a hidden enemy, one possibly more powerful than the Varden. An incredibly strong and dim-witted man named Brom dueled with my Morzan to the death. All was lost but one seedling of my most faithful. There was never a time that I more appreciated human lust and its rather disturbing effect on noblemen. Not I, of course, I never fell for a woman's charms, but Morzan procreated with a young woman who served as a brilliant assassin. The procreation was named Murtagh.

_And I discovered that my castles stand/Upon pillars of salt and pillars of sand  
_  
I placed all my faith in Murtagh growing up and following his father's footsteps with the red egg. For seventeen years, I focused all of my skill and power into the creation of my perfect soldier. I was prepared to rule once more, take back the sapphire egg, and reign in peace for another hundred years. I thought the game I played was check and mate in my favor, but fate threw me another hand as Murtagh ran away. The boy obviously did not approve of me, but he helped me in the end. Oh, yes, if he had never found that Eragon, I would have never learned all I did of the Varden. He served me, albeit unwillingly, and I profited more than he could understand.

I could have sworn he was his father's son. The way he looked on his Thorn secretly made me proud. I felt like a father, more than his creator could have ever been. Perhaps my methods were a little…harsh, but I felt I had succeeded. I never knew love, but that is the closest word I could use to explain my connection to that boy's power.

I did not expect my last foundation to fall. The boy was in love with that foolish witch of a woman who should have died far earlier, that Nasuada. I hated the woman more than any other leader of the Varden. She seduced Murtagh, the whore she must have been. How else could a female have gotten control of a man but through the arts of physical love?

The sun begins to set as I fall onto the stone, cursing Nasuada and all women aloud. Men build, and women destroy.

_I hear Jerusalem bells a ringing/Roman Cavalry choirs are singing  
_

I awaken from my thoughts as bells ring, warning all that night was about to fall. I sighed, realizing I had not yet made it out of the city. I wander the streets, searching for a place to stay for the night. To my horror, most of the inhabitants are celebrating in their own home with their families, a disgusting little idea I have never brought to life. I hear laughter from many. What an odd sound, laughter. I believe it sounds like a scream gone wrong, the scream by far being the more pleasant sound. I do admit to sadism, but I am no masochist. I shiver as a window opens, warming the cold air.

Finally, I find a small hotel. Taking a deep breath, I step in.

_Be my mirror, my sword and shield/My missionaries in a foreign field_

The hotel is warm, almost suffocating me. There are far too many people idling for my comfort. I want to scream at them all to stop lazing around, to curse them all and kill them for their innocent behavior, but I know it would all be in vain. I had nothing. I was nothing.

A chubby man stands at the bar, cleaning a glass and humming a tune. I decide that this man must be the owner. I walk up to him, trying to keep calm enough. I've never been good at any talk but that of a condescending ruler, and I have no power over this man. I check my pockets, and realize that I do not have any money. The thought makes me sick, this total weakness.

"Sir, is there anyway that I can stay the night?" I ask, hating how pitiful I sound. The weak man smiles at me.

"Do you have money?" He studies me closely, and before I can respond, he continues. "You look like you've fallen on hard times. This is the beginning of a new era with King Roran. I have a bed for you. Don't worry about the money. Follow me." I hate myself a little more as I realize how much I had fallen in the past day.

_For some reason I can't explain/Once you go there was never/Never an honest word_

It was not a restful night, either. I was haunted by the memories of my beloved Jarnunvösk. It's always been the same nightmare, the same reality. Even in my most powerful days as king, I could not leave her behind. I could not understand it. I should have been happy. I owned the world, the Varden be damned! I could not deny that I missed Jarnunvösk, but I thought the memory would fade in time.

This night, it affected me even more. Oh, how the mighty fall, and I among men have fallen far more than any before! I toss and turn, waiting for sunrise and my chance to move once more and escape this godforsaken town.

_And that was when I ruled the world_

I was ready to leave. I began to walk…and then she came.


End file.

Inheritance Cycle, Spiritual