Mutilation

The triumphant roar of the mighty blue dragon, Saphira, could have been heard from miles away. The thunderous sound was a challenge. She was daring someone to standout, to strike against them and to face the magnificent beast that struck fear into the hearts of their enemies, along with her Rider who could always be found upon her back, with a flaming blue sword and a look of determination that would make a lesser man quail in fear.

However, on this day, there was no Rider upon the great dragon's back. There was no flaming sword or any looks of determination. Could it be that the roar that the warriors of the Varden had so blatantly heard was actually a cry? A desperate wail begging for someone to hear her, to heal her of her agony. Could it be that the young Rider, their greatest hope, was lost?


Arya had been healing the wounded for roughly two hours now and her energy was quickly fading. The Varden had successfully captured Dras Leona and she had already been exhausted with the energy lost during the battle. Deciding that she was satisfied with the lives she had saved and the pain she had ended, she stood from her crouched position looking down at the young boy who could be no older then seventeen. He looked up at her and smiled before bouncing to his feet.

"Thank you, elf, I guess your kind are not so bad after all." With that he turned and all but ran down the street towards a group of other young soldiers. She felt a brow raise itself at how energetic he could be after receiving such a grievous wound that would have killed him had she not been there to heal him. She shook her head, a small smile splayed upon her lips. The boy reminded her so much of the young Rider who she had grown fond of.


Both Eragon and Arya had been sparring for the entire day. Arya had of course won every time thus far and she gave no indication of losing anytime in the near future. She watched as Eragon closed his eyes and she waited. She waited for nearly an hour when finally, his eyes snapped open. The raven hair elf was surprised by the new glint in his dark orbs. Each time they had sparred, there were always conflicting emotions in his eyes. Ever since Glaedr had awoken, he had been teaching Eragon how to better defeat his opponent and with each piece of advice he had gotten better. Now, there was no conflict. In fact, the only thing she could see in his eyes was a calm determination. She silently praised him for his new found collected attitude.

"Ready?" she queried.

"Ready," he confirmed.

This time when he came at her, his movements were more fluid, his attacks, more articulate. Their dance began again.

They moved in and out dodging and attacking at the perfect moments using everything they knew about the other to their advantage. She was too confident, too safe in her abilities. It was her downfall. He defeated her once. Twice. From then out, she gave him no room. She attacked with everything she had and he did the same. Each time they ended in a draw and each time her regard for him grew. He was no longer the farm boy from Carvahall. No, he was their hope. He was Alagaësia's last hope.

Her beliefs were confirmed when their swords clashed once more and ended up locked together at the hilt. Each pushing, trying to gain advantage over the other. Their faces were mere inches from each other and when she looked into his eyes, she saw an emotion that only one word could ever describe. Fire.

"I... see... you."

She knew he was not lying.


That was the first time Arya truly recognized the potential the young Rider had. They had reconciled after his rather obscene confession during the Agaetí Blodhren. When she trekked across the land to find him, after his escapade in Helgrind, she was surprised to see distinct wisdom she had not noticed before. A new maturity existed where there had once been naivety and that made her pause.

While they were conversing around the camp fire, she had seen a new side of him. One that was not previously there. Or perhaps, she did not previously notice. It interested her, drew her in. When he asked about Faolin, she was immediately suspicous of his intentions. His eyes were far too easy to read, a quality that she liked about him though she was loathe to admit it, even to herself. What surprised her was that there was no desire or jealousy in his eyes, they were not even filled curiosity, which was a rare site indeed. The only thing that existed in his eyes was something tender, kindness, an understanding gaze that terrified her as much as it filled her with intrigue.

It was only after seeing this did she open up. She allowed him to see the flaws and the broken portions of her personality. She allowed him to see her vulnerablity when she shed tears and was shocked when she saw the compassion in his chocolate orbs didn't waver. It only grew, engulfing her into the living flame she came to recognize him as. It was on that night that their friendship was repaired and it was on that night Arya felt just a little bit stronger with the support of her devoted friend.

Arya was jolted from her contemplations when she heard a cry of agony that could only belong to a dragon. Arya looked towards the sky hearing the bellows of pain from hundreds of feet bellow the sapphire dragon that had become her friend. What had gone wrong? Her brows furrowed, she could not see any wounds upon the dragoness and Eragon would have healed them the instant after she had received them. Why was she acting so desperate, so fearful?

It was only then that the emerald eyed beauty realized that Eragon was not upon his dragon's back. Eragon was nowhere to be seen.

She threw our her mind, sending out a probe to find the leader of Eragon's guards. Blödhgarm, is Eragon with you?

There was a slight pause before the wolf-like elf responded.

No, Dröttningu. We had assumed that he was with you.

Arya immediately began to go through every possibility that could have occurred, and quickly contacted the grieving dragoness.

Bjartskular, where is Eragon?

Gone, gone, GONE! As if feeling a need to prove her words she let loose another pained howl before she continued. The accursed red rider managed to sneak into the city without his disgusting red beast. Eragon was healing an injured child when he came and used magic to render him unconscious. Saphira's words came quick, not at all like the powerful voice she had grown accustomed to. Her voice was weak, panicked and utterly terrified.

Arya, in an attempt to soothe the distressed dragoness began speaking in a calming voice, using the Ancient Language so as to prove the truth of her words. Calm yourself, Saphira, losing control will only be detrimental in any attempt we make to rescue Eragon.

Instead of calming the dragon, her words seemed to have the opposite affect. The normally collected sapphire like dragon dove towards the ground only to pull up at the last second allowing her muscled legs to take the brunt of the impact. The ground shook and from where Arya stood she could see cracks in the Earth from the massive dragon's landing. Her words, laced with unconcealed venom, cut through the elf's mind and allowed all of her rage to show.

Calm? How can you expect me to be calm when my other half has been taken by his own blood to the black King? How can you expect me to except that my partner-of-heart is gone? You never cared for him at all, did you? To you, we are little more then tools of destruction. To you, our only purpose is to further the Varden's endeavor! I had known you were cold elf, but never did I imagine you would betray us.

With those final words, she took off in an attempt to save her Rider from the torture he was bound to face with the dark tyrant. Her rage towards Arya keeping her going despite the exhaustion she felt creeping in her limbs courtesy of the recent battle. In the back of her mind she knew the elf had meant no harm in her words, and she also knew that eventually she would have to stop and return to the Varden, with or without her Rider, but for now, she would follow him diligently. She had failed to protect her Rider, and could only hope that he could be saved and that he would forgive her for her incompetence.


Eragon woke up, groggy and confused. It was dark, more so then it normally would be, and it was quiet. Too quiet for him to be in a city filled with the Varden's army. He sat up with a jolt and dread begin to fill him.

He was in a dungeon. A dark, dirty, blood-stained, dungeon.

More than that, the blue Rider was exhausted. He barely had enough energy to sustain a conscious state of mind, let alone use magic. It was not a drug that had inebriated his ability to use magic, of that he was certain, for he could remember the Ancient Language in its entirety. It was only then that he noticed the golden bands wrapped around his wrists. They were draining his energy while barely allowing him enough to keep him alive and awake. He was drugged, just not by the particular drug he was expecting. It was a sense enhancing one, a drug that allowed you to feel things to extremes; the likes of which he had never felt before. Including pain.

He could feel the cold biting into his skin and his tight muscles clenched. His body was bruised in numerous areas and he had to bite back a groan. If he had not even been tortured yet, then what would the real thing feel like?

He heard a serpent like voice that could only belong to one man.

"Welcome to my home, Shadeslayer. I do hope that you are comfortable here." An arrogant smirk accompanied the disgusting voice. "I suppose that you cannot get very comfortable in a dungeon, so I will get on with my proposal then. I can give you anything you would want, Eragon. I could give you riches, women, power. Anything you want it would be yours, in return for your loyalty."

The King was surprisingly not as ugly as he had expected. On the contrary, he appeared to be in his early fourties with dark hair that appeared to just be greying. He was very lean and did not appear to have an ounce of fat on his body, only toned muscles, at least from what Eragon could see beneath his clothing. He misconceptions of the King left him speechless for only a moment.

Eragon deciding to make his opinion known, sneered, "Do forgive me, Your Highness, I do not bargain with snakes."

He heard a menacing laugh just before a red-hot metal chain was whipped unforgiving across his back. Now he understood why they called him the Mad King. It was not his physical appearence that was mad, it was his soul. The only way you could see how made he truly was, on the outside, was his eyes. They gleamed with insanity and loneliness. Could losing your dragon really leave you in such a pitiful state?

Eragon refused to cry, refused to let his pain show. He was not weak, he would not give the King any sort of satisfaction by letting him hear his pained screams.

The King chuckled darkly, "Then I shall enjoy breaking you." And with that, the chains came down once more.


Well? So I read everyone's review on my last fic and I wanted to thank you all for reviewing and also for giving me some good advice. I couldn't wipe the smile off my face when I saw all the good things you guys said about me and also your ways in which you thought I could improve.

I decided that I would attempt to write my first Multi-Chapter Fic and this was the outcome. This is obviously only the first chapter and I've already written the second chapter. It just needs to be looked over and revised.. the stuff every writer hates! I want to know what everyone thinks of this. I have a bunch of ideas for future stories but this one has been in my head for quite some time and I figured, "Why not?" I want to keep writing this but if no one likes it then there's not really any point. Should I continue? Do you like where this is going? I tried my hardest to do the things that people liked in my last fic but I'm not so sure that I was successful. Stay tuned for future chapters (if you like it). Bewarned I may change the rating in the future. Let me know if there are any errors or something you don't like/something you want. Thanks!