#murtagh imagine

[murtagh-thorn]

More Traveling with Murtagh Headcanons (staying at an inn together edition)

Please be aware that I haven't read Murtagh's book yet (haven't been able to afford it), so no spoilers please! Enjoy!

Bad weather forces you and Murtagh to abandon your camp on the ground and make for the nearby town with an inn for the night – and neither of you can deny warm food, drink, and a roof over your heads sounds lovely.

Of course, he’s an absolute gentlemen as you two scurry through town, holding tight to your hand so as to not lose you in the crowd and make sure you don’t slip in the mud. He grabs your hand instinctually and seems a bit embarrassed when he realizes. He’s halfway through an apology when you only cling tighter to him as he tries to pull away, and you didn’t realize anyone could be that red aside from Thorn.

If you don’t have a good cloak to keep you dry (or even a cloak at all), he insists you take his, even though he’s getting drenched. At best, you could convince him to hold his cloak over both of you like an umbrella (do those even exist in Alagaësia? Who knows but suspend the disbelief here) until you get to the inn’s door.

No matter how safe the inn looks inside or how demure the patrons, Murtagh still sticks to you like glue, just in case (especially if you’re fem or a bit on the physically smaller side) to keep away “unsavory characters,” keeping a gentle hand on the small of your back or your shoulder the whole time to the point that you two keep getting mistaken for a couple and eventually give up trying to stammer out an explanation.

He keeps acting like he’s avoiding your gaze, but you keep catching his stare.

If the two of you are separated or you finally convince him you can look after yourself, lord help anyone that tries to flirt with you. If you asked for space, he’ll honor your request, but is glaring a hole into the back of the other person’s head.

If this person is giving you trouble, he materializes by your side and puts himself between you and the perpetrator, telling them to back off. If they still refuse, he puts a hand on the pommel of his sword as Thorn growls low, but clear in the distance enough to make the whole room rattle before the innkeeper steps in.

Yes, this is the tropiest of tropes, but I don’t care Lo and behold, of course there’s a limited number of rooms available that all only have one bed. Murtagh of course, being the gentleman he is, immediately offers to take the floor with the bedroll he snagged downstairs – even if he’s sick or injured. Depending on where the two of you are in your friendship, you either can’t convince him to take the bed with you at all or he begrudgingly agrees.

Cue the “I mean, but if you’d rather the floor, I don’t want to force you – ” “no, that’s all right, we can…um…,” “I mean, you can have the bed and I can take the floor if you want – ” “No, we’ll both just…this is fine.”

If he refuses to share and you get stubborn enough to climb into his bedroll while he’s in the washroom, he’ll come out with a sigh and simply carry you back to the bed.

If he does share the bed with you, he’s very stiff and tense while he lays with his back to you and refuses to budge.

Of course, he insists on taking the side facing the door.

If you wake up in the middle of the night, you can catch him spooning you and snuggle into him a bit more before falling back to sleep. On the flip side, if you snuggle into him, he’ll sleepily relax and lean against you with a small, contented sigh.

When it’s time to leave in the morning, he of course lets you sleep in while he quietly gets your packs ready and gets some breakfast from downstairs, even bringing it to you in bed after gently shaking you awake. You wake up with your hair suspiciously tidy and can’t help but wonder if he was playing with it before he woke you.

When Thorn confirms this later in the day via teasing comment that you happen to overhear, Murtagh of course, is not amused.

#inheritance cycle #the inheritance cycle #inheritance cycle x reader #inheritance cycle headcanons #inheritance cycle fanfiction #murtagh #murtagh x reader #murtagh morzansson #murtagh morzansson x reader #murtagh headcanons #murtagh imagine #murtagh fanfiction #murtagh morzansson headcanons #murtagh morzansson imagine #murtagh morzansson fanfiction #my writing

[ivorydragoness44]

Imagine Murtagh returning home:

Murtagh watched for a moment as Thorn took off back into the air. It felt as if it had been to long. He would agree it was. Returning home had pressed on his mind more as the end of his journey came near.

Now, his legs could not carry him fast enough to the structural embodiment of his home. The person within it, more so.

Entering through the front door, he half expected a warm welcome to greet him before he could step indoors. However, he saw no one in sight. Even after calling their name, nothing. He did not want to startle his love by touching their mind. No matter how gentle.

On his way toward the bedroom, he began unbuckling his belt. The cloak he wore beneath it was in terrible need of a washing.

Opening his mouth to call out his favorite combination of syllables again, he froze. A trample of footsteps approached his side. He hardly had time to turn his head to the sound when the figure appeared and rushed into him. A strike of pain coursed over his back as he found himself on the floor.

"Murtagh!" You cried out joyously.

He chuckled, not knowing where the ache of the impact began and your grip on him ended. "Hello, darling," he smiled, wrapping his arms around you as you peppered his face with your lips.

~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~

In celebration of the announcement of the Murtagh novel, I was inspired by the collective excitement.

I hope you like it 🙂

#murtagh morzansson #murtagh imagine #murtagh x reader #murtagh morzansson imagine #inheritance cycle #my imagines #And now I'm still awake... #murtagh pov #It's almost 2am

[hurricanes-art]

AU where Murtagh inherited Morzan's heterochromia

#eragon #inheritance cycle #murtagh #murtagh morzansson #eragon shadeslayer #my art #fool proof plan 😎 #murtagh to ajihad: identifiable features? never hear of her. no i cant take the glasses off. #murtagh should get to be the stupid one sometimes. as a treat #but imagine the first time eragon notices he comments that his eyes are interesting and look cool #and murtagh gets emotional bc hes one of the only ones who doesnt associate it with morzan #and it reminds him that he can be his own person in eragons company

[troublemaker203]

Murtagh Fitzgibbons x Fem! Reader - Arranged Marriage Pt. 3

Word Count: 1854

Summary: After your father had been killed and your brother had been taken by the Redcoats, you were left behind. A group of highlanders come across your ravaged house and decide to take you with them to Castle Leoch. Since you have lost the protection from your father and brother, it is decided that you should be married, in order to keep you protected from the Redcoats.

Warnings: None

Part 2

As soon as the door of Colum's office closed behind you, you panicked. Should you try to escape? No. No, that wasn't a good plan. You would get caught and likely get thrown into the dungeons. So you would get married. Would you, though? This could not be real, right? Absentmindedly, you started to wander through the castle thinking about how you would handle this situation. Did you want to marry either of those men? Who would be worse? Dougal had made it known that he found you quite... pleasant. But did you find him pleasant, too? Not in the least. And Murtagh was a grumpy man; how could you ever find a way to live with such a person?               Because you were so caught up in your own thoughts you hadn’t noticed that you had walked outside and were now strolling through the gardens. A voice made you snap out of it. “Hello, Y/N,” Claire said, “I am surprised to see you here.” “Yes, well, I just came from…” you motioned towards the castle and Claire nodded. “Yes, I wondered when they would break the news to you. Have they… Do you know who you are going to marry?” “No. Colum said he will announce it tonight,” you looked down at your feet, “during a great feast, for all to hear.” When you looked back up at Claire, your eyes had welled up. “Hey,” she stepped towards you and put her warm hand on your arm, “I was once in your position, and, yes, I was scared, too, but now I can’t imagine a life without Jamie. Any man would be lucky to have you and I am sure that you will be treated with love and respect.” “But I don’t want to marry either of them,” you whispered, afraid to cry. “Of whom?” “Dougal or Murtagh.” “Oh.” Claire paused for a moment. “Dougal might be a little bit much in the beginning, but he is a strong man and he will protect you with his life, so you will always be safe when you’re with him.” “And Murtagh?” “Murtagh is… well, I think he will be the most loving husband you will ever meet.” “But he does not look friendly at all.” Claire laughed. “I know, but, trust me, he has a heart of gold. Don’t let his surly expression fool you, my dear.” You nodded. “Do you want to help me sort the herbs in my practice? It will help you get your mind off things. Maybe you could help me more often? I could really use some help with all of the patients; I do hope you’re not scared of blood?” You shook your head. “No,” you smiled at Claire, “and I would love to help, thank you.”

              You had never been in Claire’s practice before and your eyes widened when you walked down the stairs, into the big room. There were hundreds of jars filled with herbs of which you had never heard the name. “I don’t know how good I am at any of this.” Claire smiled lovingly at you. “Don’t worry, I will teach you everything you need to know, it won’t be that hard.” She handed you some jars after she had set down her basket with herbs and started explaining the various uses and how to prepare them. It took you two the whole afternoon to organize everything and you even helped Claire with a patient: one of the young boys at the castle had hurt himself on the fire in the kitchen and Claire had showed you how to dress his wounds. It was a very educational afternoon and you were relieved that it had taken your mind off things.               After a while, mistress Fitzgibbons came down the stairs to fetch you. “Hello, my dear, I came to fetch ye to get ye ready for the evening.” You looked at Claire who gave you an encouraging look. You followed mistress Fitzgibbons to your room where, unbeknownst to you, a beautiful dress was waiting for you. The fabric was sprawled out on your bed and it looked very expensive. You looked questioningly at mistress Fitzgibbons. “It’s a special dress, for a special occasion,” she winked at you, but you couldn’t feel happy about this so-called ‘special’ occasion. You felt like there were rocks in your stomach and you thought about how you could escape, but Claire had already explained that escaping would be impossible, since there were guards everywhere. “Trust me,” she had said, “I have tried.” Mistress Fitz had set you down on a chair in front of the mirror and started brushing your hair. You looked at her in the mirror and she looked at you, giving you a warm smile; she could probably see the fear in your eyes and she wanted you to feel safe. You smiled back at her, but your eyes did not smile. “Dinna fash, lass, you will be in good hands.” You wanted to believe her, but the truth was that you did not know any of those men and now you were expected to marry and, eventually – and sooner than later – share the bed with one of them. You knew that the consummation of a marriage was very important and none of these people would rest before they were sure that it had happened. You could already see them sitting, drinking downstairs, waiting for the moment that you and your husband – whoever that may be – went to bed.              You had been sitting in silence for a moment and Mistress Fitz was almost done with your hair. "Do you know when the wedding will be taking place?" you asked, hopeful that she would be able to have an answer to one of your many questions. "Not exactly, but I expect it will happen tomorrow, or the day after." "And..." you hardly dared to ask the question, "do you know to whom...?" The old lady shook her head. "No, I am sorry, dear, but you should not worry too much. These men may bark, but they don't bite, I can tell you that much." You smiled at her, glad for her attempts to put your mind at ease.        After she had put the last hand to your hair, she put her hands on your shoulders. "There, such a pretty lass." You looked at yourself in the mirror and she was right, you did look very pretty. "Up you get, let's get you in that dress." You stood up and started to undress yourself with the help of Mistress Fitz. You stepped into the beautiful green dress and the fabric had not only looked expensive, it felt really expensive, too. It was of the loveliest colour green and it suited you very well. You were laced up and as you glanced at yourself in the mirror, you could not believe that the woman staring back at you was really you. Mistress Fitz put a string of pearls around your neck to really finish the look. She handed you a pair of shoes and you knew that this was the last step before you had to go downstairs. Your heart was beating aggressively in your chest and you were afraid that it would jump out.

By the time your shoes were put on by Mistress Fitz, you felt really lightheaded and you grabbed the woman’s arm to steady yourself. “Come on, lass, I willna let ye go. Let us head downstairs.” You nodded, unable to speak, and the two of you started making your way to the great hall.

Once in the hall, you could see that it was greatly decorated and the long tables were filled with enormous amounts of food; it certainly looked like a special occasion. “Now, my dear, I am going to have to let ye go now, since you will be seated at the table in the front.” Still not able to speak you nodded that you had understood what she had said. She carefully let go of your arm, testing to see if your own legs could carry you. Fortunately, your legs had gotten their strength back; at least, enough to carry yourself towards your seat. Colum stood up as you approached the table. “Ah, there she is! Have a seat, Y/N.” “Thank you,” you said, sitting down next to him. Colum started to speak to everyone who was seated in the hall. “Welcome to this special evening, everyone. We are all here to celebrate the marriage that will take place tomorrow. A marriage between this lovely lady here,” he motioned towards you, “and the man who is waiting to reveal himself as her future husband.” You scanned the room. The chair on the other side of Colum was still empty. There was no sight of Dougal; was he to be your husband? You looked for Murtagh but he was not present either. They were both probably waiting outside the hall, and one of them would walk in when Colum would ask for your husband to reveal himself. “So, we have come to the point where it is only fair to this lady to know who her husband will be.” Here we go. “May I ask for the husband-to-be of Y/N to step into the hall?” Everyone had gone quiet and you could hear footsteps approaching. You closed your eyes, not daring to look at who it would be. The footsteps got closer until they stopped. “It will be hard to see who I am when ye’ve got yer eyes closed, lass,” someone said. You did not recognize the voice to be Dougal’s and when you opened your eyes, you were greeted by the friendly, brown eyes of Murtagh. Were you relieved? Murtagh took your hand and placed a soft kiss on your knuckles, followed by a small wink; so small that you were sure only you could see it. Were those small butterflies in your stomach? You could feel your cheeks starting to get red and you quickly looked down. “It is an honour to marry ye, Y/N.” You looked up and smiled at him, not sure what to say. Murtagh had let go of your hand and made his way to his seat. You noticed that Dougal had made his way into the hall as well and a slight hint of jealousy could be detected on his face, though you were unsure why. “A toast,” Colum started, raising his glass and you and everyone else followed him, “to the bride and groom to be.” Everyone raised their glasses higher and took a sip. You took a big sip of the strong – stronger than you expected – wine. “As I mentioned, the wedding will take place tomorrow and I promise that it will be an even bigger feast than tonight and you’re all invited!” This announcement was followed by a lot of people shouting and raising their glasses. You looked at Murtagh and even he was smiling slightly. You would be married to this man tomorrow…

Tag list:

@hobbitsesoftheshire

@mysticalsoups

#murtagh fitzgibbons fraser #imagine #x reader #imagines #murtagh #murtagh fitzgibbons x reader #outlander #outlander imagine

[dumpsterfirepropaganda]

Scrolling through the Murtagh tag here I see that no one here seems to have made it too far in the book yet (or at least hasn’t posted about it) and I just want to say

great book but MAN were the events of the second half not on my bingo at ALL, maybe I don’t read enough but I was shell-shocked for a hot few chapters there. Paolini why is this man your punching bag

#Inheritance Cycle #Murtagh #Eragon #I have more to say about this book so maybe I’ll write something about it #I inhaled it over the span of a few days lmao I got that speed reading skill from pounding down academic literature #The Inheritance Cycle literally defined my imagination as a middle/high schooler #We’re so back

[moviestowriteabout]

Murtagh, shirtless and soaking wet: But Thorn and I are both guys right?

Alin, with eyes: You know asshole you know

#Murtagh #Murtagh spoilers #kinda #not really but #anyway I don’t need this to be thirstier but I need it to be more romantic #like I know Bechdel is questionable and evil ish but like #but imagine a romance between them #to quote thorn … #I think if Murtagh had sex it would cure some things #just saying

[where-dreamers-go]

Could I have Eragon, Murtagh and Arya's reaction to their SO sneaking into their room in the middle of the night because they want to cuddle?

(A/N: Reader requires the cuddles! Warnings: fluff Word count: 417 words)

Quiet filled the night air as daytime creatures and peoples slept. All was well.

Tired and fast asleep, the leader of the Dragon Riders snuggled into the warmth of Saphira’s belly, comforted by familiarity. Eragon remained untouched by all the day’s tasks and worries, finally able to rest. Safe as could be under a wing.

Another body of warmth against his curled up form spooked him, eyes opening quickly.

“Sorry,” you whispered.

Heart thudding against his ribcage, Eragon exhaled.

“What are you doing?” He asked quietly, slowly returning to a sleepy haze with you so near. His dear love.

“The same thing you’re doing.” You replied and nestled yourself between his limbs. “Pleasant dreams.”

Eyelids drooping closed, Eragon kissed your head goodnight.

Nights indoors were nights cherished. Being inside, in shelter, meant safety from weather and unwanted visitors.

Murtagh’s bedroom door remained unlocked, luckily for you.

Sneaking into your significant other’s room sounded easy when shoes were left elsewhere. Closing the door quietly held a greater challenge when you were growing eager to snuggle in bed.

Yet, you did manage to close the bedroom door; much to your satisfaction.

Sounds of fabric alerted you of movement close by.

“Why didn’t you knock?” Murtagh murmured as he rolled over, watching you crawl underneath the blankets unbothered by his words.

“I didn’t want to wake you,” you whispered.

“How kind.” He chuckled.

Humming, contently, you pulled Murtagh closer to you, arm around his back. The familiar shape of him molding into your embrace eased any lingering worries of the day. It would be you two and a restful night’s sleep.

Listen, stealth was a skill required after much practice. Sleep was something you hoped to get enough of during the night. You had weighed your options for requiring both for what you wanted.

Slipping into your dear Arya’s bedroom kept you on your toes. Literally and figuratively. Surely she wouldn’t mind her partner walking in late at night.

“You’re stealth needs work,” her smirk could almost be heard in the dark. 

Your mouth opened to reply to her remark, but she continued.

“Regardless… What took you so long?”

“I was practicing my stealth. Obviously,” you said by the edge of her bed. “May I join you? Blankets hardly give a suitable embrace.”

“Very well.” Arya pulled back the bedcovers and welcomed you in. Her arms kept you as close as was comfortable for the pair of you.

Quiet filled the room once more and you were more than happier.

~~~

(If you love my writings and want to support me, I have a Ko-Fi where you can buy me a coffee. I would be eternally grateful.

Best wishes and happy reading.)

~~~~~

DreamerDragon Tags: 

Inheritance Cycle Tags: @shewhobreathesfire @emburbaguette

**Let me know if you would like to be tagged in insert readers, either through replies, ask, or message.**

#eragon shadeslayer #murtagh morzansson #arya drottningu #eragon reaction #eragon imagine #eragon x reader #arya x reader #murtagh x reader #the inheritance cycle #the world of eragon #requested #where dreamers go #fluff

[fuck-kirk]

*takes king Orrin away from Christopher Paolini* it’s okay…..he just doesn’t understand you like I do

#mott txt #Mott’s art #the inheritance cycle #eragon #king Orrin #Orrin #thc #a doooooodle #I got close to how I imagine him at the end of thc. tho I may need to draw him some more before I get it #I would also like to draw his silly goofy self from the start of the series #me? getting attached to a side character the author seems to hate? it’s more likely than you think #Orrin deserved better #I’ve been attached to him since I was like. 12 #but every time I re read thc…and especially book 4….I just get kinda mad. he was done so dirty #characterization wise #I hope we see him in murtagh. or maybe not #maybe I would like the fanon future for him that lives in my head to stay undisturbed lol #also idk wyd is up with his crown I winged it #it’s mentioned throughout the books he wears a ‘ #circlet upon his brow so idk #also it’s hot in surda so he’s got his collar bones out it’s deff bit self indulgent on my part. surely not

[modern-inheritance]

*passing out blankies to the Trauma Twins, Brom, Eragon, Saphira, Murtagh, Thorn, Nasuada, and heck even Angela*

I've not done anything to them today. Just figured they'd be a bit cold.

#im now imagining everyone sitting together like 'where'd these come from' 'do not care they are warm and fuzzy unlike my past' #'who invited the angst bois' 'eragon did.' #'brom's gonna tell spooky stories.' 'Arya stop using glen's arm as a tent pole' #saphira is quite happy to become the new tent pole #she's got the blankie over her snout. purposeful fire hazard. #angela has torn hers up and began knitting a whole new one from the shreds #glen's teaching Murtagh and Thorn breathing techniques. it's actually going well. #eragon purposefully misplaces his blankie and asks if Arya will share. because its her duty as a bodyguard to keep him safe and warm. #she rolls her eyes but still lets him in because he's a dork but he's her dork when saphira lets her borrow him. #i donno these nerds needed a break. #eragon #inheritance cycle #the cyclists #the world of eragon #the inheritance cycle #modern inheritance #ket's modern inheritance cycle

[enypneon]

just a reminder that murtagh compares the way he should approach a child to the way he'd approach horses.

... as an alternative to dragon rider, he considers being a mercenary and/or surgeon for paid employment (maybe this can be used for crossovers where dragon riders won't make much sense).

... never had someone teach him the ways of magic (properly) sure galbatorix showed him this and that but ha ☝️ you'd be a fool to believe he taught him more than was the absolute and bare minimum. sometimes he still needs to get creative for 'basic' use of magic.

#i don't particularly like when murtagh is compared to eragon or any proper magic wielder bc you CAN'T you can't compare them #it doesn't make sense and they weren't trained under the same conditions #of course murtagh is weaker by default he didn't have sane experienced riders at his disposal who were mentoring him with good intentions #and in profound detail - no - he got the abusive ones with the combined energy of mad dragon souls ! #on top of that ... perhaps he had like what? half a year max? to practice etc. to go from 0 to 100 #and only had limited and restricted access to all things concerning magic while 'occasionally' being mentally and physically tortured #the energy the dragon souls provided was too much for him and yet he was forced to use it #even though the soreness would leave him paralysed sometimes?? imagine that feeling #while being a captive of the man who makes your life a living hell? please.....🖐️🖐️🖐️ #yes he's usually physically weak(er) as well BECAUSE GUESS WHAT?? points to the above #doesn't mean he can't ever be stronger ─ in the future ─ with time ─ and experience ─ he is a mental fortress though #and you can't change my mind but that's another essay #stories:murtagh. #° › OOC ‹ 𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄 * out of character ╲ MUN .

[murtagh-thorn]

Just thinking about the first time Murtagh lets you hug him (or hugs you). Like really hugs you and just holds you close and fully relaxes into you, while also making sure he's just as much of a home for you and holds you close and rubs your back and nuzzles into your neck, and he sighs and melts when you massage the back of his neck or play with his hair and almost falls asleep that way because you're so soothing for him and he could just stay that way forever.

#inheritance cycle #murtagh #murtagh morzansson #the inheritance cycle #murtagh x reader #murtagh morzansson x reader #murtagh imagine #inheritance cycle image #inheritance cycle x reader #murtagh morzansson imagine #murtagh fluff #murtagh morzansson fluff #inheritance cycle fluff #my writing #my murtagh thoughts #boy needs a good hug

[ivorydragoness44]

Imagine Murtagh being cute:

   Thumbing through your notes, you found the other page on the Ancient Language that you wanted to review. The reviewing, however, had quickly become an hour’s long session of learning and memorizing.    As you were occupied with staring at a collection of words, you failed to notice someone approaching.    Taking a pause, Murtagh looked over your focused form as you sat one the couch. It was endearing to him to see you so determined to gain new knowledge.    Leaning over, he placed a kiss to your temple, but too quickly felt that it was not enough.    Your attention slipped away and snapped to the warmth on your skin. As Murtagh placed another kiss down your cheek, you internally groaned at yourself. Why did you choose now to study?    “No-no-no,” you smiled without restraint. “Your kisses are too distracting, and I have a lot of work to do.”    His eyes took in your smile and knew that you meant no harm by your rejection. Taking it gracefully, he sat down beside you quietly. It would be unlike him to interrupt such an important task.    Now with him beside you and his kisses lingering on your skin, you knew there was no possible way to continue as you were before. However, it was a few long moments before you finally looked at him, receiving a curious reaction in response.    “I guess I should take a break,” you said, placing the papers down.    Murtagh smiled and you gently grabbed ahold of his face, pulling him in for a kiss.

#murtagh imagine #murtagh morzansson #murtagh morzansson imagine #murtagh fanfic #murtagh x you #murtagh x reader #500 follower celebration

[hiswhiteknight]

Unbelievably Outlandish - Part 12

Summary: Before starting down a new crossroads, the Reader goes onto an adventure of literary traveling. Suddenly tossed into an unbelievable story that has swept the world, The Outlander Series itself. How will a twenty first century woman survive?

Note: It has been a super long time since I've posted, like a year or more. I'm going to try to post weekly, but it depends on my schedule. As for a tag list, I'll be starting a new one – please send me a message to be added to the tag list. I don't always get to look through comments, so please message me.

Note Note: I own no characters, except reader, clearly this is based off the lovely book series Outlander by Diana Gabaldon and tv show. This follows more the tv show, but it’s far from accurate. I’m going to try to get better with using less proper English, but who knows maybe I’ll get into Scottish slang.

Pairing: Jamie Fraser x Female Reader

Words: 2700 (SO LONG)

Warning: Angst, playfulness, cursing, slow start

It turned out, in Angus's mind, the dog turned out to be a good distraction for you. It kept you from running around because you found yourself always training the dog. She was an angelic thing, who always got into some kind of trouble along the way. Your whole life you've been much of a rule follower, but as of recently you were finding you had a lot in common with the dog.

With this being said, you have yet to find a name you'd like for her. Often you found yourself filling the boredom by naming old fictional characters you loved when you remember the character Gilbert Blythe from Anne of Green Gables. Outside from being incredibly charming, he was intelligent, kind, and had patience and devotion for the ones he loved. You imagined you had a lot in common with Anne Shirley or you hope you did. And with that thought, you named the dog Blythe.

Jamie enjoyed watching you work with the mischievous creature. He could tell this was the first time you were filled with joy since you arrived in Scotland, "Why don't you go over and talk to the girl," Murtagh said from next to him.

He shook out of his daze, acting like he wasn't doing anything weird, "I like my bullocks, thank you."

Murtagh shook his head, "She wouldn't have that mutt if it wasn't for you, you know."

The men continue to work around and pack things away, "You and I both know she is a stubborn woman, if she wanted that dog enough she would have got it without myself or Ned mentioning a word."

"Coward," Murtagh whispered to Jamie.

"Damn right," he chuckled back.

You were working on the pups reactivity and word commands. While growing up you didn't get to have a pet, but your mother told you about when she raised dogs as a child. Your family moved around a lot, so having a pet wasn't in the cards. "Don't get too comfortable girl, we're going to be off soon," Angus barked at you from afar.

You turned around losing the smile on your face. With the time being away from the castle, you still hadn't earned much trust and you most definitely didn't give the men much energy. Outside of the pup, you were like a empty soul and it was coming to be more evident with every passing day. The dog plopped herself next to you watching Angus with her tongue out. Even Blythe was better respected and well liked by the men, even Angus though he'd deny it if anyone commented. Their acceptance of the dog made you more tolerant to their attitude and patriarchal manner. "Yes master," you bow.

"It's nice you are starting to learn your manners," he smirked back while making gestures towards the men.

With a deep inhale and low tolerance of attitude today you started to trudge towards your horse, "It was sarcasm, idiot," you grumbled.

He appeared to have the same tolerance of my attitude, "Watch your tongue girl or you'll get it cut off," Angus advanced forward while gripping his dagger.

Jamie and Murtagh were about to make a move when another man's voice appeared, "Everything alright miss," a British voice caught your attention.

Angus directed an aggressive response to the man. You turned to look at the man and in your daze started to register things about this man. He had a proper accent, boots, and his hair read a gentleman. He was clearly a British soldier and he could mean serious trouble. You turned to look at Jamie for a split second before charming a smile, "Excuse me sir," you asked, ignoring the comments from the other man to rile this man. This was not the time and place.

You could tell the tension with Dougal increased. He didn't trust what you would say, "I was asking if you were alright," he stepped forward again, ignoring the men behind you.

"Oh, I'm sorry you had to hear all that, sir. You shouldn't have had to hear a lady speak out of tune like that. It was very unbecoming of me," you looked embarrassed. Let's hope your acting skills are up to par. You ignored Murtagh mutter unbecoming to make fun of you, "It's just Angus here is a very, very, very," you paused to look at him, "Very distant cousin." You turn back to smile at the officer, "I sometimes gets so overwhelmed by his voice and tone I just lash out. I apologize," you put you hand on your heart. The dog looked up at you oddly, not recognizing your behaviors.

He smiled at you, not acknowledging the grumbling Scots behind you, "Not necessary, my lady I understand quite well actually." He bent down to scratch the puppy sitting in front of you, "I'm sorry your accent."

You scratch the back of you neck, "Right, I must sound so improper. I'm Y/N O'Mulligian. I came to visit some family here from the colonies at my brother's request. He said I could use some real life hard work. He likes to call me a debutante," you sent him a teasing smile.

Responding well to your story, he rises and smiles at you. A relief was lifted off your shoulders, you were almost past this moment when Dougal interrupted, "Enough," he shouted, "She is the guest of the clan MacKenzie and her business is none of yours." You clearly spoke too soon because the officers defenses shot back up.

"So off you go," Angus finished.

You had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes, "Are you sure you are alright, miss," he looked unshaking at you. He clearly felt so much privilege he did not care remotely about the strapping Scottish men standing around him. You wanted to smack yourself in the forehead how stupid these men had to be to not recognize the importance of this one man.

Dougal looked as if he was going to fight the man. You put your arm on his bicep to stop him, "Of course, good sir," you smile, "It's nice to know chivalry is not dead. I have more hard work to learn as you can see, it was very nice meeting you."

"Pleasure is all mine," he smiled back before frowning around the man watching this moment. He backed away into the blacksmith area to continue his work.

A minute passed by and you felt a firm grip on your arm drag you towards your horse, "It's best you didn't speak," Dougal scolded in your ear.

Anger surged through your body and it took every fiber of your being to say nothing. But as you were shoved onto your horse, you looked in the direction of the soldier and back at Jamie. You knew if you yelled it'd bring attention to Jamie, a fugitive to the English Army.

You continue to seethe on the ride. Blythe sat up, doing her best to see over the horses head to look ahead. "What's the dog's name," Jamie trotted next to you.

"Blythe," you muttered directly.

"What a cute English name," he emphasized on one word of his sentence.

You pulled back on your horse and halted, "Excuse me?"

He chose to stop with you, trying to not say directly what he'd like to say. It's been odd between you and Jamie. You weren't sure if you were pushing him away out of anger or fear, but none the less at this moment it appeared to be anger, "Nothing, it's a cute name."

A sarcastic laugh left your mouth, "No, no, you had a tone," the man halt to watch another scene unfold, "You clearly have something you want to add, some hidden message you feel you want to hide. Say it."

"Nothing, you seem to just like the English a bit more than an Irish Woman from the colonies I thought would," he said like his words meant nothing. It didn't matter the fact that maybe he felt jealous or he had a right to comment on any intention or likes you have. That comment engulfed your whole body into volcano, hell fire fiery.

Heat was written all over your face and Murtagh didn't have enough time cool down your fire with rationality, "The boy is just saying, you were awfully chummy with the Brit," Angus chimed in, "like a girl in heat."

And there goes Mt. St. Helen, "Un-Fucking believable, do you know how fucking dumb you are, like every single on of you are just egg head fucking dumb," you scream enough to make the echo quake the woods around you.

"Lass," Ned sent a warning your way.

Tears started to brim your eyes and Jamie knew he'd set you up to fail again. You point to Ned, clearly a man of reason, "That man back there," you continued to yell, "Was an English Officer out patrolling." You looked to Jamie and everything deflated in you. Everything from the past and the reality of your new world just collapsed in your soul, "I was trying to save you."

A sigh leaves your lips and you talk lightly while using your hands to emphasize your point, "Men are idiots and will always fall for charm, so I used mine to protect you all," you continued to go on, "Call me a hussy, I don't care. And that plan to charm the officer actually worked until you opened your trap, my lord," you bowed your head at Dougal. Something than broke in you, in that moment, you were exhausted at being angry. You had no more fight in you. You gave Jamie another look, "I was scared. I was trying to save you," you whisper.

Taking a deep breath, you dismounted from you horse, "Now where are you going," Angus shouted at you.

The anger stirred up again, spinning around to look at him, "To relieve myself, thank you," you speak loudly while stomping into the woods.

You knew what Dougal did to Jamie in the pubs and you weren't sure why. It wasn't much of your business, but you could see it chipping into Jamie. You were stuck again in your thoughts, give into this new world and let these people in or continue to bury who you knew you were inside a dark cave and never leave.

The ride to the next village was quiet, especially after finding Scottish men hung out on display. You wanted to vomit at the lack of humanity in the cruel act. If this was the normal the British did to Scots, I'm not all shocked of their lack of kindness and trust towards me. I'm sure I wasn't helping the matter either.

When you got to the pub, you chose to join in with the drinking. The owner made a bee line as Blythe trotted behind you and laid at your feet, "Lass, we do not let do-," he stopped mid sentence from the look you were giving him. You were sitting up straight, dead face.

"You were saying, sir," you answered curtly.

"What can I get for you miss," he finished instead.

"A pint of whatever, I am not picky," you said, resting your feet on the chair in front of you.

The men went a distance away from you, you imagine to process the thing they just witnessed. A man approached you with a smile on your face and you shake your head putting your other foot on a chair and shoving it away from your table. He quickly turn around, "You'd make more friends if you weren't so prickly."

Murtagh patted at the dog, "My expression and acts are nothing but kind, sir." He shook his head, "Plus, I don't need any more friends when I only need you."

He chuckles, looking at Jamie, "It was a kind thing you did with the soldier. I'll be the only one to admit, that was a good eye you have."

"Don't think much of it, it was also self preservation because I'm not a exactly the kind British soldiers have a keen sense to protect," the man brought you your pint and you started to drink while you viewed in your surroundings.

He pointed at you, "You like everyone to think you're this cold hearted she witch."

"Maybe I am those things," you said like it didn't bother me to have that reputation.

Murtagh shook his head, "You are quite the opposite lass and the only person you are hurting are you." You roll your eyes sighing as he looks at your with a smirk, "And maybe a red headed boy who I suspect would do anything to see you smile once again." You sit up straighter as Murtagh stands while looking at you, while gesturing to Jamie. He lifts his eyebrows speaking you the truth, "Don't think I only talk to you because your good company. I get sick of seeing the boy mope around with his worry for you. A single smile from you can set his day."

You glare at him as your cheeks warm red, "Mind your business."

When he walks away, you sit and continue to process your reality and options. Every now and again you catch a glance at Jamie. You could see his expression and the change in him over the last few weeks. You stand walking your glass over to the bar with Blythe walking behind you. You could tell Dougal was about to start his speech. He wouldn't need Jamie today if you guessed right. Those hanging men were part of this community they didn't need to see Jamie's scars. You leaned against a pillar near Jamie, "You alright," you asked him catching eyes with Murtagh.

You shake off his knowing look. Jamie stood up straight looking at you bewildered from the sudden change in your demeanor, "Are you talking to me?"

"Don't make it a thing, just answer the question," you whisper.

"Aye, I'm fine," he whispers back, glancing at you for a second too long into silence. He clears his thoughts, "If you don't mind me asking, what changed your mind with speaking to me?"

You smirk, "Murtagh paid me."

He shook his head, "Sure," he was trying to hold back a smile. Something appeared to pop up in his head, "Look Deoiridh, I'm sorry about."

"No," you stopped him, "Jamie, I'm stubborn and I don't know what I'm doing. I'm not from a place like this, so."

You noticed a change in his eyes when you said his name instead of Mr. MacTavish. This is where he stopped you, "I only want to help."

"Does that mean you agree I'm stubborn because Murtagh implied I was prickly earlier and that's why I don't make friends," you say while trying to hold back a grin.

He shook his head making his red hair shake with it, “You see comments like that are a trap and I will not be stepping on that one.”

“Smart man,” you say to him.

“And now a compliment, I might think you are wanting to be my friend again,” he whispered back with a smirk.

You see Dougal getting ready to do your speech, “I should be getting out of here and up to my room. I shouldn’t be down here when,” you stopped to look at Dougal, “Well good night.”

“Goodnight Y/N,” he whispered back.

“And Jamie, just for transparency sake, the jury is still out if we are friends,” he paused appearing to hold his breath. You offer a small smile, “I need you to walk over to Murtagh and tell him I was nice then I'll consider being your friend. You know for the sake of proving Murtagh wrong. It's the price you have to pay for my friendship.” And before he can respond, you and Blythe make your way upstairs.

#outlander fanfiction #outlander imagine #jamie fraser imagines #fanfiction #outlander #jamie fraser x reader #jamie fraser imagine #jamie frazier x reader #unbelievably Outlandish

[troublemaker203]

Murtagh Fitzgibbons x Fem! Reader - Arranged Marriage Pt. 1

Word count: 1688

Summary: After your father had been killed and your brother had been taken by the Redcoats, you were left behind. A group of highlanders come across your ravaged house and decide to take you with them to Castle Leoch. Since you have lost the protection from your father and brother, it is decided that you should be married, in order to keep you protected from the Redcoats.

Warnings: Murder, assault, some drinking. 

 The Redcoats had really proven their point. Your eyes filled with tears as you slowly walked through the remains of your home. You had watched them nearly burn the whole place to the ground, killing everyone in it, hidden behind trees and bushes.

             When your father noticed red blotches in the distance, he quickly rushed you outside, telling you to hide in the forest. The forest near your house was dark and it would have been hard for the Redcoats to find you. You had quickly run towards one of the bigger bushes and crouched down, closing your eyes, praying the Redcoats wouldn’t do any great harm. You were able to peak through the branches and saw that the Redcoats had approached your house. Your father had walked outside, followed by your older brother. The captain of the Redcoats, Jonathan Wolverton Randall, a.k.a. Black Jack Randall, said something to your father. Your brother took a step towards Randall, but he was quickly stopped by two other Redcoats. One of them aggressively grabbed him and hit him over the head with the back of his rifle, knocking him out. You wanted to run towards them and yell for them to stop, but you couldn’t, it would be your death. Your father yelled something and reached for his gun; one which was always safely tucked between his belt ever since the Redcoats regularly made their rounds through the villages. Before your father could point his gun at Randall, however, the Captain had already pointed his gun at your father, his finger tightly on the trigger. Your father held his hands up in the air and said something, but that did not satisfy Randall at all and, without hesitation, he had shot your father. You covered your mouth with your hand to stop yourself from screaming; your cheeks warm and wet from the endless stream of tears. Randall turned around, motioned to his men and walked towards his horse. Two of his men grabbed your father; two others your brother. Four others entered the house and started taking everything that might be of value, destroying all other things. After they were done they all mounted their horses, taking your brother and father with them.

             After you had seen your brother and father being taken away by the Redcoats, you had closed your eyes and laid on the ground behind the bush for God knows how long. It had gotten dark by the time you finally opened your eyes. Afraid that the Redcoats might come back, you did not dare to move at first. After a while, without any sign of the Redcoats, you decided to get up and return to your house, what was left of it, that is.

Your house was located on the outskirts of the village, near the woods. Chances were that nobody had heard anything about what had happened. Even if you had screamed, nobody in the village would have noticed a thing.

             A single tear rolled down your cheek as you inspected the ruins that used to be your house. Walking through every room made you realize how much they had taken. Not a single silver item was left behind, or was it? Something shimmering in the moonlight caught your attention. It was covered in ashes from the wooden furniture. You carefully picked it up and dusted it off: it was a brooch of your family crest. Looking at the familiar object, you burst into tears.

             You had been sitting on the floor for a long time, staring into nothingness, stroking the brooch with your fingers, when you heard the soft sound of hooves on grass. Scared of more horrible Englishmen, you crouched down beside the windowsill, carefully looking out the window. To your surprise the men on the horses were not dressed in red, instead, they were dressed in kilts. The bearded men approached your house and you could hear them speaking to each other in hushed voices; their accent being the last clue that they were indeed Scotsmen. Still wary you did not dare to reveal your presence yet, so you waited instead. You saw the men dismount their horses and you saw that there was a woman among them as well. You hadn’t noticed her before, probably due to the fact that she was covered by the kilt of the man who was sitting behind her on the horse. The men quickly exchanged some words and two of them took the lead. The tallest of them, a broad-shouldered, bald man with a grey beard, kicked in the door, or what was left of it, making it fall off its hinges. You were sitting by the window on the left side of the house and because of the darkness, it was impossible for them to see you straight away. You made yourself even smaller and tried to hold your breath so you would not produce any sound.

             The men made their way further through the house, walking straight past you. You heard their muffled voiced coming from the back of the house. “Right, I think we’re clear,” you heard one of them say, “there’s nobody in the house.”Footsteps were nearing your hiding spot. “Er, Dougal, I think ye’re wrong. There’s a lass here.” More footsteps approached and the one who discovered you crouched down next to you. You did not dare to look at him, so you kept your eyes glued to the ground. He placed a hand on your shoulder, making you startle. “Claire!” the young lad, who had shared his horse with the lady, shouted and ran outside. He came back with the woman, who was, apparently, named Claire. She rushed towards you, nudging the man, who was crouched next to you, out of the way. “Please, Rupert, give her some space.” Her accent was soft, unlike that of the Scotsmen; she was English. Her eyes were friendly, but she had a worried expression on her face. “Are you hurt? Is that blood by the entrance your blood?” You shook your head. “What’s your name?” Claire asked. “Y/N,” you said softly. “Okay, Y/N, do you think you can stand?” You nodded and slowly stood up, supported by Claire and the chubby man named Rupert. “Is this your house?” the tall man with the grey beard asked. “Yes.” “Do you live here all by yourself?” “No sir. I used to live here with my father, mother, and brother. But after my mother passed away it was just my father, brother, and me. Until the Redcoats came this morning. They shot my father, hit my brother and took both of them with them.” The expression on the man’s face had changed. “The Redcoats you say?” You nodded. He turned to his man and they whispered something to each other. The man turned himself to you again. “Ye’re coming wi’ us, lass. We’ve still got a long way to go to Castle Leoch, so I suggest we stay here for the night and leave early in the morning.” “But what if my brother returns?” The young, red-haired lad scraped his throat. “I’m sorry lass, but I don’t think yer brother will still be alive. If he is, he will be hanging on by a thread.” You buried your face in your hands at the thought. Claire put a hand on your shoulder in an attempt to comfort you. You quickly dried your tears and tried to man up. “I think there is still some bread and cheese in the kitchen, maybe some wine, too,” you said, walking towards the remains of the kitchen.

             A quick search through the kitchen resulted in a fair amount of food. You returned to the living room area, content with the items you carried in your arms: two hole loafs of bread, a block of cheese and even a full bottle of wine. You put the food on the ground, but kept hold of the bottle of wine, pulling out the cork and taking a big sip. “Careful, lass,” the grey-bearded man laughed. “Just leave her be, Dougal. The lass has just lost her family, for Christ’s sake,” a brown-haired man said. He had a grumpy expression on his face, but he did not seem unfriendly. “I think she might need some stronger stuff, then,” Dougal said, pulling a flask from his belt and handing it to you. You took off the cap and sniffed it; a strong smell penetrated your nostrils. You took a sip and grimaced, but swallowed anyway. The men all laughed and even Claire chuckled. “You’ll get used to it,” she said, winking at you. You could not help but laugh, grateful for the light mood after having witnessed such a horrible scene before, however, you were still anxious about tomorrow, when you would join these strangers to Castle Leoch.

             After having finished the bread, cheese, and wine, everyone in the room felt tired but satisfied. “Right, we’ve got a long day tomorrow. Better get some sleep in,” Dougal said as he stood up and walked to a corner of the room, sitting down in it. “Angus, you’re the first to keep watch tonight. As for the rest of ye… figure it out amongst yerselves.” The short, brown-haired man called Angus grumpily stood up and walked outside. Claire and the red-haired lad moved to another corner of the room. Rupert stood up. “Come on, Willie,” he said to another young lad, who stood up as well and followed Rupert as he walked outside to join Angus. You looked around the room, trying to find a sport comfortable enough to lay down for a whole night. “Here lass,” the grumpy looking man held out his coat to you. You thankfully took it from him. “Thank you, er…” “Murtagh,” he said. You smiled at him. “Thank you, Murtagh.” You watched him turn around and walk towards another corner and you picked your own spot as well. After you laid down, you pulled Murtagh’s coat over you and when your head touched the ground, you realised how tired you were. After you closed your eyes, you quickly fell asleep.

----------

This is just the beginning! Please be patient lol

I'll try to post part 2 as soon as I can <3

#murtagh fitzgibbons fraser #murtagh #murtagh fitzgibbons x reader #murtagh fitzgibbons imagine #outlander imagine #Outlander #imagine #imagines #x reader

[alagaesia-headcanons]

Can you imagine the resolve it must have took for Murtagh to never stake a claim of Zar'roc after he discovered that Eragon had it? He calls it the one thing he expected to receive as inheritance, and he does have that right to it as the son of the man who owned it. In a way, an inheritance could have been the only potentially positive thing Morzan left for Murtagh. It still would have carried heavy connotations, but it would have given him control over some piece of his father's legacy. But in the absence of Zar'roc, Murtagh apparently inherited nothing else from his family, implying that everything he had access to in his youth didn't belong to him; that it was provided by Galbatorix at his discretion in a way to stifle his freedom. And Zar'roc in particular holds so much significance to Murtagh. There's a poetic notion that he shouldn't have to carry his father's misery, but even while it was lost to him, Murtagh had to shape himself around Zar'roc. He grew with the wound it inflicted on him and adapted himself so he could learn to live with it. A ghost of Zar'roc haunts him from the mark on his own flesh. But Murtagh did survive and adapt and learn to live- he mastered Zar'roc before ever laying a hand on it.

But when he finally does, he gives it back to Eragon. At first, no doubt he refrains from claiming it out of reluctance to reveal his identity. Yet when he does eventually tell Eragon the truth about his father, he still doesn't assert his right to Zar'roc. He never even tries to guilt Eragon into considering giving it to him. He only tells him that it was his only expected inheritance which he still didn't receive to show that he has no ties to Morzan and his cruelty. And Murtagh has reason to want Zar'roc, not just the right. For the sword to belong to him could replace that ghost of his past with something real that he has control over and that offers the chance to determine what this piece of his father's history gets to mean in his future. But Eragon also has a right and reason to use Zar'roc. A dragon rider has a right to a Rider's sword, and he uses it because he has no other. It speaks to Murtagh's deep care for Eragon that he doesn't infringe on that. He would hate for Eragon to be deprived or hurt and he refuses to take from his friend who has less than him.

That then illuminates why Murtagh later does take Zar'roc from him in the Battle of the Burning Plains. Eragon no longer has less; he has so much more. He has companions, he has support, he has resources, he has safety, he has his freedom. And he has a perceived moral high ground that he shoves in Murtagh's face. He condemns him as a traitor, just like his father. He asks to murder him and Thorn because he apparently doesn't care to try to find any other way to save them. Murtagh sees that Eragon will revile him no matter any efforts to cast off Morzan's legacy, and if he leaves him the advantage of Zar'roc, he will use it to try to kill them. Because Murtagh is now also a Rider. In his mind, what reason is there left to let Eragon keep the sword? And now, more than ever, Murtagh would want to grasp for that control over Zar'roc now that he's been stripped of his control over everything else. So of course he takes it. When no one will give him care, he seizes what he can in its place.

#eragon #inheritance cycle #murtagh #eragon shadeslayer #ive been having zarroc feelings #the way rhunon calls murtagh its rightful owner- shes right #it was always meant to be murtaghs sword. it was always going to be his sword #i think its infamy can only be healed in his hand #(just the way he never confronts eragons ownership of it while theyre together... he loves him so.) #edit: i meant to type 'SHOULDNT have to carry' urghhh

[everythingloveandanimated]

On this episode of Things Murtagh will be very upset with Eragon about: using Sloan’s true name to bind him with a promise that he will never approach Katrina or Ismira.

While he and Eragon are in Carvahall, he’s told of Sloan. How he was against Roran and Katrina’s engagement, how he betrayed the people of Carvahall, and his treason that led to the kidnapping and imprisonment of his daughter. How he died at the hands of the Ra’zac at Helgrind.

Eragon later tells Murtagh that Sloan is alive and Du Weldenvarden, but he is forbidden to see Katrina and Ismira. (he probably comes across Sloan on accident when he’s in Du Weldenvarden, and Eragon has to explain why he’s there.)

Being a former name-slave himself, and frustrated with the idea that Eragon still doesn’t understand the full scope of the torment he and Thorn went through, I can imagine he’s going to be some grade of livid, but also horrified and subconsciously a bit frightened of his younger half brother.

Even after remembering Roran and Katrina’s account of Sloan’s possessiveness of Katrina, his treason, and disapproval of Roran, he’s still against the practice on principle.

I do wonder if he would ever get to the point where he would agree that it’s best for the Stronghammer family that Sloan is not a part of their lives. Especially after remembering things from Katrina’s perspective.

This knowledge definitely changes his opinion of Eragon. The shining hero of Alagaësia has a ruthless streak in him. His handling of Sloan chills Murtagh and makes him very wary of Eragon.

Thorn may remind him that Sloan’s true name may have changed since Eragon saw him over a year ago. If it has, then Sloan can work to be free.

Despite Murtagh's mission of freedom for those who are oppressed or bound by oaths, he realizes that Sloan’s hatred for Roran will not be good for Ismira to be around. Sloan may try to turn her against her father. That is something that Murtagh will not stand for seeing that Roran is a good man and a loving father and husband. He’s not going to stand for a bitter grandfather filling a child’s ears with poison against one of her parents. It doesn’t sit fully well with him since Sloan is still a slave to an oath that Eragon bound him with without his consent.

This new piece of knowledge that Murtagh has about Eragon causes a rift with some similarity to their disagreement of killing Torkenbrand when they were traveling to the Varden.

(Fellow World of Eragon readers, let me know what you think about this. Let me know if I’ve missed something or if you have anything else to add.)

#murtagh headcanon #eragon #roran stronghammer #katrina inheritance cycle #katrina stronghammer #sloan inheritance cycle #murtagh