Orange is the Anti-angst
Summary: One-shot – Murtagh broods and mourns over his tragic fate. Or at least tries to. If only Eragon would stop interrupting him…
Author's Notes: For everyone who didn't think Murtagh could be any more of an emo kid than he was in the first two books. And then we read book three. And lost all hope for the poor guy.
Disclaimer: I do not own any characters featured in this story. They all belong to the creative Christopher Paolini.
Orange is the Anti-angst
Darkness. Death. Blood. Sorrow.
That's all there was in his life. He had nothing to hold on to, nothing to love, or cherish in his wretched world of darkness and despair—
"Murtagh! Murtagh, where are you? Damnit, are you sitting in the dark? Again."
—where hope and light and everything good was lost long ago. What was the point of going on when all that awaited him was—
"You know, all this brooding cannot be healthy for you. I think you need to get out, meet a nice girl—or guy; I'm not judgmental!—and maybe get a plant. Like a cactus. No one ever has a cactus sitting in their room so it would be really original. And to top it off you can name it something really common like… Bob! Yeah, Bob the Cactus!"
—more hurt? Why did he bother to get up when he knew there was nothing left to live for? Why didn't he just give up and let it end? Give into the darkness; that was his fate. Give—
"And have you ever thought about wearing something less… black? Like yellow, or maybe blue? Or, I know, orange! Yeah, that's perfect. Orange is like the anti-angst! It's the least depressing color there is. Just looking at it makes you laugh because it's just so funny!"
—into Death's eternal embrace. Or maybe he didn't deserve death. Maybe living on in this personal hell was what he really deserved. Yes, living on and on in an endless spiral of guilt and sorrow for all his—
"So do you want orange armor or an orange cloak? Or how about just getting both? Of course I don't think you should wear both at the same time. Especially when you're riding Thorn. Orange on red… I can just feel the eyestrain now."
— wicked deeds. For all the sins he had committed against humanity. He was such a disgusting, pitiful creature who didn't deserve—
"And you really should choose a hair color. I mean, when we met you had brown hair but now it's black. Like, super emo black. You think maybe all that angsting you do might have just turned it that color?"
—any sort of love or joy. That's why he was always alone. That was why everyone turned their back on him. He was a curse to all he came in—
"And you should probably eat something too. Like pie. Everyone likes pie. I don't think I've ever met anyone who has ever said no to a nice slice of pie."
—contact with. He was such a selfish, evil person to try and make others love and stay with him when he knew nothing good would—
"So what flavor do you want? Apple? Blueberry? Custard? Or how about… oh, I know! I have the perfect flavor! I'll be right back."
—come from it. He deserved to be left alone to cry for what he could not have in the darkness that he could not escape. A darkness that—
"Okay, I'm back and guess what I brought! Give up? It's cherry pie."
"No, you're right. This is a serious situation. We need chocolate pie. I'll go get it!"
—a darkness that would never…—
"Back again! So do you want me to cut you a slice?"
—that would never…—
—oh for god's sake!—
"What? Oh, you thought I forgot the whip cream, huh? Don't worry; I didn't. Now do you want one slice or two?"
"… Just give me a slice of the damn pie."