Red and Silver and Blue

by Sealure

Murtagh's sister was not captured at the beginning of Eldest. She travels with Eragon to Ellesmera, where the dragons alter her as well. She and her dragon, Islingr, stand alongside Eragon and Saphira to fight the Red Dragon and his Rider at the Battle of the Burning Plains. Basically, it's just the Burning Plains with an extra character. NO SLASH! T for war, violence, and blood.

Hello! This is just an old idea that's been rattling around in my head for a while now. It's a pointless AU just for fun. So, Galen is an Elvish word. It means "healer", and it sounds pretty, so that's where that came from.

WARNINGS: Blood. This is the Battle of the Burning Plains, folks. It ain't pretty. Also, lots of feels.

SPOILERS: Tiny bit of Eragon, and almost all of Eldest. If you haven't read these yet, you absolutely should!

There's a fair amount of dialogue that I took straight from the book. There is also one scene that I didn't write: when Murtagh describes what happened to him in Uru'baen. I just couldn't get it right, so I left that part to the brilliant Paolini.

Here we go!

Disclaimer: I do not own the Inheritance Cycle. All rights to Christopher Paolini.

Thud.

Roran's head whipped around.

Thud.

"What new devilry is this?" Jeod muttered, voice hoarse.

Thud.

It was getting closer.

Thud.

The men of Carvahall tightened their grips on their weapons, faces pale but unwavering.

THUD.

This time, it was accompanied by a howling war cry that had the lot of them backing away from the railings of the ship.

THUD.

With a heart-stopping roar that shook the deck, a massive shape slid out of the clouds above them. Soaring through the air towards the ship was a—Roran could only gape in disbelief. That was a dragon. That was a real, actual, living, breathing, dragon. Its scales shimmered the rich color of purest silver, while its talons—as thick as Horst—were as dark as thunderheads. Its wings were as pale as the clouds, and every time they drove towards the ground, a blast of air washed over the deck.

Strapped on its back between its wings was a beautifully crafted saddle, and in the saddle was the Rider.

She was tall, with black curls flowing to her shoulders. Her armor was rent and stained, but was obviously fit for a queen. Her ears were pointed, and her eyes were slanted, her features almost feline. In her right hand, she wielded a hand-and-a-half blade that was dripping with blood. Her face was beautiful, but weary and battle-hardened.

The dragon circled closer until its Rider could see Roran's face clearly. The Rider's eyes were a deep green, and Roran felt like she was staring straight into his soul. He matched her gaze.

Suddenly, her eyes widened. The dragon's head jerked up, and one of its eyes—glowing like an ever-shifting viridian fire—fixed on Roran. The Rider shook her head, a disbelieving smile curving the corners of her mouth. She lowered her blade, and the silver beast threw back its head and unleashed another devastating cry. Roran nearly fell over when another roar sounded from somewhere across the river. The dragon backed away, rising about fifteen feet in the air. They stayed there until another colossal shadow descended from the clouds.

The second dragon was even larger than the first, and was so blue the sky looked pale. It hung suspended in the air next to the smaller beast, both Skymasters staring at him with enough intensity to make him want to abandon ship. He resisted the urge, and stood his ground. The Riders locked eyes, and though their mouths didn't move, there was apparently some means of communication, because the Silver Rider nodded. Her dragon, with no visible prompting, pulled away and turned back to the battle, rapidly disappearing into the smoke.

The blue dragon lowered itself until its Rider was level with Roran, and Roran just stared. Eragon. This used to be his little cousin. In armor fit for a prince, with the same inhuman features and weary eyes as the other Rider. He brandished a cruel red blade in one hand, a beautiful shield in his other.

Roran could only gape at him. This Eragon was a Rider. This Eragon was powerful. This Eragon was a warrior. This Eragon could help him kill the Ra'zaac and rescue Katrina.

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Good grief, these Garrowsons! Galen shook her head, unable to stop grinning. It's like a rite of passage: go on a life-changing quest across all of Alagaesia, causing as much chaos as humanly possible. It's unbelievable.

Islingr hummed. It's actually quite amusing. And touching. They have a great love for each other. More than just nest-mates, they are brothers-by-choice.

Galen's smile faded, her thoughts drifting—as they often did—to her own brother. A flash of bitter pain stabbed through her, and she remembered when it had been her and Murtagh, back to back, heart to heart. The world never cared about them, so they didn't care about the world. The plan had been so simple: kill the Ra'zaac, leave the silver egg on the Varden's doorstep, then vanish. Run as fast and far as they could. Then…

Then Islingr hatched, and things got a lot more complicated. She was a Rider. As far as they knew, she was the only Rider in all of Alagaesia other than Galbatorix. Then they ran into Eragon and Brom, and they realized their plans were going to have to change. So they went to the Varden—against their better judgement—and the welcome had been about as warm as they'd expected…..

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They staggered upright, the slick rock bottom of the pool making it almost impossible to keep their footing. Murtagh took a step and slipped, and when Eragon tried to catch him, they both went down. Galen rolled her eyes and grabbed Eragon's collar, dragging the other Rider to shallower waters. When she turned to help her brother, her feet shot out from under her. Eragon caught her arm, laughing like the insane little idiot he is.

When Murtagh finally made it to his feet for a grand total of six seconds before falling again, Galen couldn't help it. She burst out laughing right alongside Eragon. Murtagh growled and cursed at them, but a smile was lurking in the corners of his mouth.

Eventually, they'd all made it to the edge of the pool when Eragon, who was in front, abruptly stiffened and jerked back. The two warriors had their weapons in their hands in a heartbeat, both of them reaching out a hand and hauling Eragon behind them, raising their swords against the circle of spears that had descended on them from seemingly out of nowhere.

Galen heard Islingr's furious roar in her mind, and frantically shouted, Islingr, stay away! DO NOT come unless I call you! Please!

He snarled. I will do as you have asked, but if there is the slightest hint that things are not going well, I will tear this mountain down if I have to.

Her shoulders dropped in relief, and she reached out to Eragon's mind. Tell Saphira to stay away! I've already told Islingr. Right now, these people are terrified and unsure, and we really don't need some well-meaning moron slaughtering the hope of Alagaesia.

Eragon swallowed hard. Right.

They were herded into a large cavern, where they were completely surrounded and hopelessly outnumbered in a matter of moments. Galen started to sidle closer to her brother, and about thirty spears instantly shifted to point at her. She froze, then decided she rather liked where she was. She reached for his mind instead. Since they were twins, it was ridiculously easy to speak mind-to-mind. They had even done it in their sleep by accident once or twice.

This is not going to end well for us.

He snorted. You think? Once they figure out who our father was—and I'm sure there's at least one person here who knew him—we'll be in chains, your mind will be locked down tighter than the king's, and they'll control Islingr by threatening you.

You're forgetting Eragon and Saphira. I don't think they'll just give us up like that.

Murtagh winced. I hope the kid doesn't do anything too reckless…

She grinned. Oh, I can almost guarantee it. This is Eragon we're talking about.

Her brother's mental groan had her disguising her laughter as a cough.

Suddenly, the soldiers began to move. Instantly, the three teenagers snapped back to back, protecting each other. A tall man with skin as dark as night strode through the parted ranks, dressed in armor with a mighty sword at his side. His dark, hawk-like eyes examined each of them in turn.

"Which of you are the Riders?" He demanded.

Eragon blinked. He reached out and tapped on the others' shields. They let him in automatically. Riders as in he knows there's more than one?

Apparently. Murtagh glared at the man. I don't like him.

Galen threw him a quelling look. Stop it. You don't even know his name.

Doesn't matter, I don't like him.

That's ridiculo—

Guys, Eragon pleaded. Come on. What should we—

"I am Ajihad, leader of the Varden. The Urgals are almost upon us, and the King's army will be naught but hours behind them." The man's eyes raked over them again. "If you are not with us, then you are against us, but I need to know now!"

There. Galen's eyes were wide. Now you know his name.

Murtagh glared at her. Really?! That's what you're concerned about right now?!

Eragon stepped forward, ignoring the hands that tried to catch his arm and the hisses of his name from the other two. "I am a Rider," he stated quietly.

Galen exchanged a wry glance with her brother, then smoothly glided forward to stand beside the youngest. "And I am the other," she said, raising her head. "And we stand with the Varden against the Dark King."

Murtagh threw his hands up in complete exasperation.

Ajihad stared at them for a long moment, then nodded. "Summon your beasts," he said, motioning the soldiers by the entrance to open it again and get out of the way. "But warn them this: should they display any hint of aggression, you will be held responsible."

Murtagh cringed at his choice of words. "It's your decision," he said, strolling forward to plant himself between the Riders. "But if I were you, I would not call them 'beasts' when they get within hearing. They tend to dislike it."

Ajihad opened his mouth to answer, then stopped, staring hard at Murtagh. His eyes narrowed, and he stepped forward, staring hard at his face. The twins stiffened, and the Riders drew closer to Murtagh, but before anything else could be said, the air was filled with the thudthudthudthud of approaching dragons.

Startled shouts rang out from the soldiers as the first Skymaster landed. Massive, regal, and glittering from the waterfall, Saphira glided into the chamber, head held high. She moved immediately to her Rider, lowering her head to nudge his shoulder.

One enormous blue eye locked on Ajihad, and he, face displaying his awe, bowed before her. She let out a puff of smoke from her nostrils, and ever-so-slightly inclined her head in return. Arya was still strapped to her, and Galen shot a worried look at her brother. The elf was even paler than before.

Eragon clapped a hand on her shoulder. "This is Saphira," he said. "I am Eragon, and I am her Rider." He turned to Ajihad. "This elf's name is Arya," he said, gesturing to Saphira's burden. There was a sharp intake of breath from several of the men. "We rescued her from Gil'ead, but she has been tortured and poisoned. She needs to be seen by the healers, now."

Ajihad immediately nodded, and signaled a few of the guards. They hurried from the room. They returned a few minutes later, followed by the healers who had a litter to carry her on. Eragon and Murtagh worked quickly to unstrap the elf and settle her securely on the litter. The healers immediately rushed her out, one pausing to say, "Arya is strong. This is not the first time she has been injured. I am certain she will make a full recovery."

Murtagh's scowl disappeared, Eragon's shoulders relaxed, and Galen sighed in relief. The healer smiled and hurried after her charge.

Once Arya was taken care of, Saphira turned her head to Murtagh, nudging at his arm until he surrendered and rubbed her jaw. She rumbled contentedly, then swung around to Galen, gently nudging her forehead with her snout.

"Do you share her?" asked a tall, bearded man from behind Ajihad.

Saphira snarled, claws scraping the floor, and Galen shook her head rapidly.

"Oh, no. She is Eragon's. We have traveled together long, so we have all gotten well used to each other."

He nodded.

Saphira moved away from the doorway to give Islingr enough room. She turned her head and growled to let him know he could land now. The sound made the floor tremble.

Islingr answered, and a few moments later, the graceful silver dragon slid in from under the waterfall, striding over to Galen and dropping his head, shoving her over to Murtagh and examining them both thoroughly.

She rolled her eyes. We're fine, Islingr.

I'll be the judge of that.

Murtagh laughed. She let out a frustrated huff, crossing her arms and tapping her foot.

Eragon looked over at them, confused. Murtagh called across, "He didn't believe her when she said we're fine."

Eragon cracked up, shouting back, "Well, maybe because the last time you said that, you had seven arrow wounds between the two of you!"

Saphira let out another puff of smoke, eyes narrowing. I seem to recall three of them on you, little one. As well as a sprained wrist.

Eragon blushed, and it was Galen's turn to laugh. Islingr found them to be as hale as promised, and pressed his forehead to his Rider's, letting his worry and relief flow freely across the bond. She smiled, closing her eyes and pressing loving reassurance into his mind. He hummed, content, and turned to greet Murtagh, nudging at him in much the same way as Saphira. The oldest boy grumbled, but surrendered almost instantly, stroking Islingr's nose.

Eragon was next, stepping forward to let Islingr nose at him, reassuring himself that every member of their unofficial thunder was safe. Satisfied, the young dragon nudged Eragon's forehead and returned to his Rider, curling around her.

Galen smiled gently. She rested her hand on his neck and looked at Ajihad as she declared, "This is Islingr. I am Galen, and I am his Rider."

Murtagh leaned back against Islingr.

She glanced back at him.

He glared at her.

She raised an eyebrow.

He cursed softly, and she smirked, knowing she won. Eragon snickered. Murtagh shot him a glare, but it was halfhearted at best. He sighed, crossing his arms. "I am Galen's brother, Murtagh." He said his name as quietly as possible, but the reaction was instantaneous.

Ajihad's eyes widened, and his sword was in his hand in a heartbeat. "Seize them!" he barked, pointing the weapon at the twins. Galen shrank back, and Murtagh wrapped his arms around her, but before anyone could do anything, Saphira let out a full-on roar. The entire cavern trembled, and the soldiers screamed with fear. Saphira's wings spread wide, Islingr shooting forward to wrap his tail around Eragon and pull him behind the protection of the dragons' wings.

The dragons planted themselves firmly in front of their humans, wings spread wide, flames flickering in their mouths, sending a clear message: Touch them and die.

Eragon spun 'round to look at them, confused. "I don't understand—" he began.

Murtagh let out a bitter laugh, kicking at the ground. "What's not to understand, kid?" he tried to sound angry, but it just came out as exhausted.

"Think, Eragon," Galen said softly. "Who was our father?"

Realization dawned across the younger Rider's face at about the same time that fury did. "But you are not your father!" he exclaimed vehemently. "You risked everything to save Islingr, Saphira, and me! None of us would be here right now if it wasn't for you two."

Galen shot forward, wrapping her arms around this innocent, sweet, pure boy who always saw the best in them when even they couldn't see it. He buried his face in her shoulder and wrapped his arms around her waist, muttering, "It's not fair."

Murtagh's mouth pulled up in a half smile. He wrapped both of them in his embrace, and whispered, "But you know the truth, and that's enough for us."

"Call off your beasts!" Ajihad shouted from beyond the protective wall of dragon wings. "Dragons! I command you to cease at once!"

Matching roars of fury sounded from both of them, and a fresh round of terrified screaming broke out as Saphira's jaws snapped shut perilously close to Ajihad's head. He was yanked backwards by the bearded man who'd spoken before.

Murtagh cringed. "I did warn him," he grumbled. "Islingr! Saphira! Enough!" he shouted.

NO! They roared as one, blasting their voices into every mind in the room. YOU MAY BE LEADER HERE, AJIHAD OF THE VARDEN, BUT YOU DO NOT CONTROL US. WE ARE THE SKYMASTERS! WE ARE AS WILD AS THE WIND, AS UNTAMEABLE AS THE SEA, AND YOU THINK TO CONTROL US? TO CALL US MINDLESS BEASTS? YOU DARE TO THREATEN ONE OF OUR RIDERS? YOU THREATEN THE WARRIOR WITHOUT WHOM NONE OF US WOULD BE HERE? ARROGANT HUMAN!

The three wanderers managed to force their way past the dragons. Ajihad and his men were pressed against the wall as far away from the infuriated Skymasters as possible. They were all gaping at them, faces full of terror and awe, as the powerful voices echoed in their minds.

The Riders traded exasperated looks. Murtagh sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose like he had a headache.

WE ARE YOUR ONLY HOPE! The dragons' tails lashed with fury, their heads weaving from side to side in eerie unison. WITHOUT US, YOU WILL FAIL! YOU CANNOT FORCE US TO FIGHT WITH YOU. GALEN AND MURTAGH KNEW THE RISKS OF COMING HERE, YET THEY CAME ANYWAY! THEY REFUSED TO LEAVE YOU ON YOUR OWN. AND YOU DARE THREATEN THEM?!

"I dare to threaten those that pose a risk to my people, oh great ones," Ajihad said. His eyes were wide, and sweat was trickling down his forehead, but he stepped forward to answer the dragons' challenge. "I dare to threaten these two specifically because I know who they are."

Islingr's eyes started to glow. Galen let out a violent curse and flung herself between her furious dragon and the foolhardy (if well-meaning) leader of the Varden.

"ISLINGR, LETTA!" She thundered, spreading her arms. Viridian ribbons of magic began to spiral from her fingers, weaving themselves into a loose web of protection over the humans. Eragon swiftly stood beside her and added his own cobalt energy to the spell.

WHY?! Saphira demanded. WHY SHOULD WE?!

Islingr flung his head back and roared his agreement.

"BECAUSE THEY HAVE A POINT!" Murtagh bellowed.

Silence fell as dragon, Rider, and Varden alike turned to stare at the son of Morzan.

Galen blinked, then smiled sadly. "Now that we've got your attention," she spoke quietly to the dragons. "Will you calm down?"

Reluctantly, they subsided, pulling back to the edge of the room.

Eragon turned to Ajihad. "I don't know about you," he said quietly. "But I don't exactly think this is a conversation meant for so many ears."

Ajihad nodded, and quickly dismissed all the soldiers save for the bearded man. Murtagh paced back and forth across the floor as the others filed out. At last they were gone.

Murtagh sighed, raking his fingers through his hair.

"You are correct in your assumptions, Ajihad," he began. "Morzan was our father."

The bearded man laid a hand on his sword hilt, and Ajihad's eyes narrowed.

"But we are not him," Galen spoke. "We want nothing to do with him, or his legacy."

"Yet you are still of his blood," Ajihad spoke firmly. "I am sorry, but I cannot trust you. You were raised as his children."

"His children?" Hatred suddenly twisted Murtagh's features. He spun around sharply, ripping his tunic over his head. A sharp intake of air echoed around the chamber. A long, gruesome scar stretched from his left shoulder, all the way across his back to his right hip. He jerked the tunic back on and turned to face Ajihad. "That is the only thing he ever gave me."

The man turned to Galen. "And you?" he looked faint. "Surely he wouldn't…"

She laughed darkly, hate burning in her eyes. She pulled her tunic up, baring her stomach. A smaller copy of her brother's mark reached from her left hip to halfway up her ribcage on the opposite side. "Oh, yes he would."

"We hated that man till the day he died." Murtagh spat out.

Ajihad looked mostly convinced, so Eragon gave him the last nudge.

"Let's put it this way," he suggested. "If you imprison them, the dragons and I will tear apart your mountain, break them out, and leave you to the mercy of the king."

Ajihad's dark eyes glinted. "It would appear I have no other option."

No, Saphira glared at him, smoke rising from her nostrils. You don't.

Islingr let out one last threatening snarl, then curled himself around his Rider and her brother again.

She sighed in exasperation, gently stroking his jaw. Murtagh grumbled to himself, but leaned comfortingly on Islingr's wings. He wrapped an arm around his sister, and gently tapped on her mind.

That could have been worse, he said.

She gave a shaky laugh in response. So true. I told you Eragon and Saphira wouldn't let us go.

A tiny, genuine smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. So you did. His arm tightened around her, and she rested her head on his strong chest.

What do you think will happen now? She asked.

He thought for a moment, then grinned at her, dark eyes sparkling. I think this will be the adventure of a lifetime….

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And it was, Brother, Galen thought. It just ended far too soon. She sighed, stroking Islingr's neck.

Mind on the battle, little one, the silver dragon hummed gently. I need you focused and ready for anyth—"

A long, loud horn blared behind enemy lines. Silence fell over the Burning Plains.

Thud.

"What…." Galen stood in her saddle, shading her eyes with one hand as she tried to see farther.

Thud.

"No…"

Thud.

Galen could feel Islingr's fear blasting through her. Saphira was still hovering over by the river. These wingbeats were coming from the opposite direction.

Thud.

The air vibrated with a terrible roar, and Islingr shot around and took off as fast as he could fly, heading for Eragon.

Hurry, hurry, hurry! Galen chanted. She threw another glance over her shoulder. She could see it now—it was massive, at least as large as Saphira, which shouldn't be possible—and it was flying fast. Its Rider held a naked sword aloft, with no shield or insignia, but it was unnecessary. The king's foot soldiers and cavalry started screaming and cheering, banging their swords on their shields. The Varden began to retreat, reeling back from this blood-red vision of winged death.

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The roar shook the very air. Roran's eyes widened, and he looked at his cousin. "Was that….."

Eragon shook his head, something very like fear beginning to blaze in his eyes. This isn't possible, he whispered. This cannot be happening…

What is it? Roran had to make a conscious effort not to speak the words aloud. What's wrong?

Thud. Thud. Thud. THUD THUD THUD THUD.

Eragon turned around as the smaller dragon dropped through the clouds and swooped past the ship so fast, Roran's head spun.

The Silver Rider looked absolutely panicked as her eyes locked on Eragon's. They had a quick mental conversation, then Eragon nodded. She responded in kind, then the silver dragon twisted in on itself in an impossible display of agility, and took off again, flying towards the sound.

Eragon locked eyes with Roran. Take the ship back up the river and wait until the battle is through! I'll find you afterwards, and we can talk then.

Roran set his jaw. You have much to answer for, Eragon.

Eragon's eyes clouded, and his shoulders slumped further. I know. And I will answer for all of it. Just not right now. Stay safe.

With that, the strange presence receded from his mind. The sapphire dragon turned and followed its companion, sending its own roar flying out before it. Before long, the smoke of the Plains obscured the dragon—and its Rider—from their sight.

"That was Eragon!" Horst's mouth was still open. "That was actually Eragon!" He spun round and clapped Jeod on the shoulder, laughing heartily. "Well, by the gods! Turns out you were right!" He shook his head. "Little Eragon, a Rider!"

Roran nodded slowly. Then he lifted his hammer, and made for the edge of the deck. "Pull her over so I can jump," he called down to the stern.

"Roran, what are you doing?" Horst matched his stride.

Roran grinned. "Winning a war," he answered, and leapt over the rail to the ground below.

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Nasuada stared in horror as a blood-red dragon soared towards their already-exhausted army. She turned to Orrin, who was gaping in disbelief. He looked back at her with despair in his eyes. She opened her mouth to speak when another roar rang through the air, and Islingr shot overhead, aiming straight for the enemy Rider.

They couldn't see Galen's face from down here, but her shoulders were straight. One hand wielded her blade, honed to a wicked edge and reinforced by Rhunon, the renowned Elf-smith. Her other hand shimmered with viridian magic.

Islingr was still much too far away to do anything about it when the Red Rider drew back his hand in a claw and summoned a bolt of scarlet magic. He flung it, and it slammed into Hrothgar's chest. The dwarven spellcasters cried out in agony as their energy was drained, trying to protect him. They collapsed, and then, clutching his chest, so did the king.

Galen's desperate howl of grief was echoed by Islingr's furious challenge. The mighty Skymasters collided in a thunderous clash. Their deadly talons ripped and tore at each other, their fangs sinking deep in some places, and skating off wards in others. The Riders dueled savagely, with both sword and magic.

Another set of wingbeats sounded, and Nasuada whipped around to see the blue dragon and her Rider approaching. Eragon saw Orik kneeling by Hrothgar's body, and leapt off Saphira's back. He landed carefully, and raced to his adopted brother's side. Orik said something—they were much too far away for Nasuada to hear—and Eragon's face blackened. He nodded, rising and vaulting back up onto Saphira. She roared her own challenge, and launched from the ground, steadily gaining speed until she collided with the red dragon. The conflict moved farther away, back to the edges of the battlefield. The Varden's Riders were trying to drive the enemy away from their troops.

All of a sudden, there was a howling shriek—a dragon's scream. Nasuada cried out in horror as Islingr dropped like a stone, the scarlet dragon roaring his triumph to the heavens. Saphira screamed as well, tilting in a desperate dive to catch her brother. Her opponent did not let her. He dropped on her from above, digging his talons into her back, slowing her down until there was no way she could reach Islingr in time.

A heavy boom shook the ground, and a plume of smoke rose up from behind a rise. Nasuada clapped a hand over her mouth, because from Saphira's desperate cry of rage and grief, that had been Islingr hitting the ground. With Galen still on his back. Eragon's tiny figure could suddenly be seen, leaping from Saphira's back to the red dragon's leg, climbing steadily up until he tackled the other Rider clear out of his saddle. The tangled figures began to fall, their dragons breaking apart to catch them, then they all disappeared behind the rise, and she couldn't see them anymore.

Nasuada could only watch, and pray that their Riders would survive.

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Arya's blade fell from her hands as she stared into the sky. Islingr was falling very fast, and Galen was still on his back. The she-elf started running, knowing she couldn't get there fast enough, but desperately hoping she could.

She screamed with Saphira as Islingr slammed into the ground. She saw Eragon attack the Red Rider, and then she lost sight of all of them.

Arya turned back to the enemy soldiers. They might not have done it personally, but this Empire, this King, had just murdered her sister-in-arms, one of the Dragon Riders of Alagaesia.

They would pay for this with their own blood.

With a battle cry, she rained down her wrath.

And pretended not to notice the tears welling in her eyes.

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The horrible scream felt like a blade stabbing into his head. Roran staggered, clamping his hands over his ears. He looked up in time to see the silver dragon drop from the sky.

Horror filled his heart. He could see Eragon's dragon fighting to reach the other before it hit the ground, but a bone-jarring boom told him that Eragon was too late. He could do nothing but watch as his cousin tackled the Red Rider out of his saddle, and they fell through the air until he could no longer see them.

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Islingr was lying in a crater, the saddle hidden under his mangled wings. Eragon couldn't see Galen anywhere. His blood ran cold. He shoved the other Rider away from him, slowing his descent with a word. As soon as his feet touched the ground, he sprinted to the fallen silver dragon.

He was only a few steps away when a battle cry from his opponent forced him to turn. He ripped Za'roc from its sheath—he'd shoved it back in when he'd decided to force the other Rider out of his saddle—and slammed it into the man's blade with all his strength.

The other didn't even flinch.

Eragon was seeing red. This Rider's dragon had gotten hold of Islingr's wings, and completely shredded them. As in, tore them to the extent that they could no longer keep him aloft. So Islingr fell, with a single scream of absolute pain, with Galen's cry of agony overlapping. Saphira had tried to reach them in time, to slow them down before they hit, but…

And now this man was standing in between Eragon and his sister. Maybe not by blood, but by choice, and Eragon would be damned* before he let this monster hurt her again.

He attacked. He pulled not a single blow. This murderer had killed Hrothgar, then tried to kill Galen and Islingr. He was going to pay.

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Galen groaned. Her head felt like it was splitting open, and her side hurt, but her back felt like she had just been flogged. She forced her eyes open, and for a heartbeat, she completely panicked. Everything was dark. Then she realized she was lying under Islingr's wings. She frowned. What was she doing under here?

Abruptly, she remembered being knocked out of the sky. Her eyes widened.

ISLINGR! She screamed. His only answer was a weak nudge of her mind, and a minute tremble of his body.

His wings had been torn apart, she remembered. Then she jumped, hitting her head on his shoulder blades as the harsh crash of steel erupted practically on top of them. Somewhere in the sky, Saphira shrieked in savage vindication as the enemy dragon howled in pain.

She knew she was injured. She would not be able to help Eragon as much as she'd like to. But from the sound of it, Eragon was doing just fine on his own, and Islingr needed help now. First things first, she had to get out from under him.

She closed her eyes and concentrated. It still felt like the world was spinning, but as far as she could tell she was flat on her back. Her left arm was laying over her stomach, and her right was stretched above her. She shifted her left arm, then almost yelled aloud as pain ripped through her waist. Something warm and sticky clung to her arm, and she knew she was bleeding. Galen moved her right arm much more cautiously, but there was no pain, just enough soreness to let her know that she'd whacked it pretty good. She turned on her side with a low hiss, and started dragging herself towards the base of Islingr's neck, where there was a gap large enough for her to slide out from under his wings.

Once she was out, she started to pull herself to her feet, using her grip on one of Islingr's neck spikes to steady herself. Galen cursed and weaved on her feet as a dizzy spell rushed over her. She hung on until it passed, then looked down at herself. Blood drenched her tunic, enough of it that she actually started to worry until she realized not all of it was hers. Some of it had a light silvery sheen: Islingr's blood. Her blood was coming from a puncture wound to the left of her navel. She examined it carefully, but the blood flow was slowing, there was no exit wound in her back, and nothing important seemed to be damaged, so she let it be for the moment.

Galen had already realized the pain in her back was from Islingr, not herself. Well, most of it at any rate. Her back was horribly bruised and badly scraped, but the majority of the pain was from his shredded wings. She fought the urge to weep as she stared at them. They were ripped straight to the bones, great stretches of membrane just torn completely off. There was blood everywhere.

I'm so sorry, she murmured, lightly stroking his shoulder. I just don't have the energy to heal this. But I can lessen the pain.

It's….alright….Little One, he whispered. His breathing was ragged. I…..will heal…..in time.

She whispered a few spells, to stop the bleeding and lessen his pain. His breathing worried her, but she couldn't do anything about that now.

She glanced over her shoulder a few times, keeping an eye on Eragon's duel. The enemy Rider was matching him step for step, which should have been impossible. After the Agaeti Blodhren, they were as strong as Elves, even if they didn't look fully Elvish, and the other Rider was only human—that much they could tell from the way he moved. Eragon should have been able to defeat him with no problems. And the red dragon should not have been so large. He was months younger than Islingr, and yet he was as massive as Saphira.

She shook her wandering thoughts back to the matter at hand, and soon had done all she could to help Islingr.

She limped up to his head—her right hip had gotten twisted at some point—and rested her hand on his crest. He opened one viridian eye, dull with pain, but still clear and sharp.

I'm sorry, she said. That's all that I can do now. I'll get Eragon and Arya to heal you completely as soon as possible.

Do not…worry, little….one. His breathing was a bit steadier now. You have….done enough…..for now. Go. Help your brother-by-choice. I….will be fine.

She pressed her forehead to his jaw. Rest. When you wake, you will be well.

He hummed, and his eye slipped shut again. She used as much of her strength as she dared to cast a spell of protection over his limp form. She was already turning towards Eragon when she heard him shout, "I know you!"

Galen spun around as quickly as she could. Eragon threw himself at the other Rider and tore off his helm. Tangled black hair spilled to his shoulders, and dark eyes snapped with twisted fury.

A sound tore itself from Galen's throat as she stared into the face of the brother she'd thought she'd lost.

"Murtagh?" she whispered, voice breaking.

His eyes locked on hers, and she reached instinctively for his mind. His cruel smirk faltered, and he took a half-step towards her before he suddenly grimaced in pain and flinched away. His mind, which he had started to open to her, snapped shut and flung her back into her own. She staggered, her leg almost giving out. But she'd noticed one thing: Murtagh was not the one who'd locked her out. Some other force had overpowered his mind and forced it shut.

And there had been one thought raging through his mind, louder and stronger than anything else:

I'msorryI'msosorryPleasebealrightIloveyouPleasebecarefulbothofyouIdon'twanttohurtyouI'msorry

"Why?!" Eragon's voice broke, and so did her heart when she saw tears sliding down his face. He looked so young in that moment….

"Why do you think?" snapped Murtagh. He spun his blade in a half-circle.

She pressed hard on his mind, not enough to be considered an attack, but enough for him to hear her: I love you. I forgive you. Come back to me. We miss you.

A shudder ran through his frame, and he swallowed hard, but then he steadied himself again.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo(Murtagh explains what happened to him, Roran kills the Twins)oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"But before I go, I'll take this." Murtagh stepped forward and pulled Za'roc and its sheath from Eragon's belt. "After all, Morzan's blade should go to his eldest son, not his youngest."

Eragon's face whitened, and Galen's heart skipped a beat in horror.

No…

Murtagh smiled cruelly, but his eyes were still fractured. "We never told you our mother's name, did we? And you never told us yours. I'll say it now: Selena. Selena was your mother, and mine, and Galen's. Morzan was our father."

"No," Eragon was shaking his head. "It can't be true."

Murtagh repeated the same thing, word for word, in the Ancient Language.

Galen could feel herself trembling in the hold of her brother's spell. "Let us go," she whispered. "Brother, please. Let us help you."

"Still thinking I can be helped. There's nothing you can do, Galen." Murtagh started to walk towards them again, but then he hesitated, meeting Galen's eyes. "My orders were to try to capture you," he said softly, holding Za'roc to his chest and backing away. "I have tried." He strode to Thorn, then looked back at her. "Beware, sister," he whispered. "He will have us swear new oaths when we return. We will not be able to release you again."

He mounted in one smooth movement, and the crimson dragon launched into the air. Once Murtagh was out of reach—both mentally and magically—his spell ended. Eragon landed on his feet, blank horror still blazing in his eyes. Galen's damaged leg gave out, and with a short cry, she crumpled.

"Galen!" Eragon ran to her, carefully lifting her back up. "Oh, gods, are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she shook her head and laughed a bit hysterically. "Our brother is enslaved to a madman who knows his true name and has ordered him to kill us, but I'm fine." She braced herself against his shoulders and looked him in the eye. "I'm so sorry, Eragon," she whispered.

He looked at the ground. "It's not your fault," he said quietly. Then he looked back up. The corner of his mouth lifted minutely. "On the bright side, that means you're actually my sister."

He tried to smile at her, but tears filled his eyes. She wrapped him in her arms, and he broke down on her shoulder. Saphira keened softly behind them, nudging Eragon with her nose before turning to Islingr.

Galen rested her head on Eragon's shoulder and murmured, "I am honored to call you my brother, Eragon Selena-son. Our mother was a brilliant scholar, a fierce warrior, and a compassionate healer. You should be proud to call yourself her son. Who our father is doesn't matter. Our actions decide who we are, not our father's name."

He nodded shakily, breathing deeply and straightening. He rested his forehead against hers in thanks, then helped her over to Islingr and lowered her to sit on the ground.

Eragon looked at Islingr, then at Saphira. "We don't have an awful lot of energy," he said, "but we should be able to close the wounds and prevent infection. Fully healing his wings will have to wait a bit."

"That's fine," Galen said. "As long as he's not in pain, I figure we can heal pretty much anything later."

Eragon and Saphira worked on the silver dragon for a good twenty minutes. When they finished, he was awake and alert, snuffling at Galen's blood-covered tunic and damaged leg.

"I'm alright for now," she said. "Saphira's going to help you back to camp, and Eragon's going to help me. We'll get fixed up when we get there, all right?"

He sent one last rush of worry over the bond, then allowed Saphira to help him to his feet. Leaning on her, he was able to walk.

Eragon closed the surface of her stab wound—which, they had discovered, came from one of Islingr's neck spikes—and pulled her to her feet, carefully putting her arm around his shoulders. Painstakingly, side by side with their dragons, they started moving across the Plains.

They had gone maybe a quarter of the way when Eragon stopped with a jerk. Galen groaned softly.

"What?" she croaked.

"Roran," answered her little brother.

"Oh."

"Yes, oh." Eragon adjusted his hold on her and started forwards again.

She could see the older Garrowson now, striding towards them with fury in his eyes.

"He blames me," Eragon said softly.

"He doesn't know any better yet," she answered.

As Roran drew closer, Eragon carefully propped Galen against Saphira's other side and walked to meet him about ten feet in front of the dragons.

Roran stopped and stared for a few seconds, then punched Eragon full in the jaw. Galen jerked upright, hand flying to her sword hilt, as flames leapt to life in Saphira's mouth. Islingr managed a ground-rumbling snarl and a weak lash of his tail. Eragon just rolled away from the hit so Roran wouldn't break his hand. The Blue Rider held out a hand, telling the others to calm down.

"I guess I deserved that," Eragon said.

"That you did. We have to talk."

"Now?"

"It can't wait. The Ra'zaac have captured Katrina and I need your help to rescue her."

Eragon closed his eyes and ran his hands through his hair. He took a deep breath. "There's something I need to do first, and then we can talk. All right? You can accompany me if you wish….."

"I'll come."

Eragon turned back to Galen. She offered a tiny smile.

"Here we go again," she said, her voice long since grown hoarse with the screaming and the smoke. "Off to haul someone's sorry carcass out of one of Galbatorix's strongholds. We're doomed."

Eragon snorted. "Please. This won't be a problem."

She huffed softly as he pulled her upright. "I seem to recall hearing something similar before we tried Gil'ead, and how did that end up?"

"Well, it—um—"

"Exactly." She sucked in a sharp breath as Eragon stumbled.

"Sorry!" he said. "Sorry. Blasted Plains. This might just be the most uneven battlefield I've been on."

"Have you been on many?" Roran asked, still staring straight ahead.

"More than I would like," Eragon answered.

Galen laughed tiredly. "You can say that again."

Roran looked at her with narrowed eyes. "I know you're the other Rider, but I don't know who you are."

"My name is Galen," she said. "As far as who I am—you'll find out in a few minutes."

Roran nodded. They walked in silence for a while, with Eragon sneaking glances at his cousin every few seconds.

"I missed you," he said finally, voice low.

Roran's stride faltered, then he responded with a curt nod.

Finally, they reached Nasuada's tent. The sentinels opened the curtains with expressions of relief at seeing both Riders alive. Galen carefully pushed away from Eragon and walked into the tent under her own power, with Eragon leaving a steadying hand on her arm. Roran walked beside them while the dragons slid their heads in after them.

In the center of the tent, Nasuada was sitting on a table, letting a maid remove her twisted armor while she carried on a heated discussion with Arya. She stopped in the middle of her sentence as she noticed the new arrivals.

Leaping off the table, she cried, "Where have you been?!" and ran over to them, throwing her arms around Galen. Galen stiffened and cried out softly in pain, and Nasuada instantly released her with a murmur of "I'm sorry!". Eragon sprang forward and caught her as she started to collapse again, and he lifted her into his arms, carrying her over to a chair. Nasuada followed, kneeling by the Silver Rider's side and resting a hand on her shoulder. Arya hurried over and got to work on her various injuries.

"I am so glad to see you!" exclaimed the Varden leader. "When we saw you fall….." she blinked fiercely. She rose and wrapped her arms around Eragon. "Then you leapt after her, and I didn't know what to think."

Eragon let out a tired chuckle and returned the warm embrace. When she let go, he started to sway, and Nasuada had to grab his shoulders to keep him upright.

"Eragon?" she said sharply, concern etched into her features.

"I'm alright," he said softly.

"Right," Galen drawled. "And you don't have an arrow wound through your right arm, and there's not a dagger slash down your left calf, and you don't have half a dozen bruises from more arrows all down your abdomen."

"And you don't have a hole through your stomach, lacerations all over your back, a stab wound in your left shoulder, a dislocated knee, and a broken hip," he retorted.

She rolled her eyes, then hissed as Arya started poking her shoulder. "I'm fine," she grumbled.

"Fine?" the elf repeated incredulously. "I don't even know how you're alive. You fell out of the sky and crashed into the ground with the weight of a dragon on top of you, and all you have to show for it are a few cuts and a broken hip?"

Galen offered a distant smile. "I'm good at surviving." She glanced at Eragon. "We both are."

One corner of his mouth pulled up in a tired half smile.

Nasuada squeezed his shoulder. "Now enough of that!" she said. "Tell us about the Rider!"

Galen's eyes filled with pain, and Islingr let out a quiet keen, laying his head on the ground. Saphira laid hers over his neck, humming gently.

They summarized the wretched battle as quickly as they could. Eragon's voice broke when they got to the part about his parentage, so Galen told that. She saw Eragon's desperate glance at his cousin, and she saw Roran's look of horror. Eragon reeled back like he'd been struck. Her heart hurt.

Nasuada wiped tears from her eyes. "I am so sorry, Galen," she said. "I very much enjoyed Murtagh's company at Farthen Dur. He was a good friend, and a wonderful ally."

Arya nodded, her sorrow clear in her dark eyes and pressed together lips. "We cannot tell the Varden that the enemy Rider is Murtagh, who they fought beside and learned to trust under the mountains. That would do nothing but discourage them."

"We can't tell them about Morzan either," Galen said, cursing under her breath as Arya snapped her hip bone back in place. It made a crack sound that had Roran paling. "They know who I am, but to find out that even Shadeslayer is the son of that monster? It would destroy them."

"Agreed," Nasuada frowned.

Eragon nodded, staring at the floor. Nasuada's face softened, and she walked over to him. "Do not let this trouble you over-much, Eragon-elda," she said quietly but firmly. She placed her hand on his face, gently tilting it so he was facing her and not the ground. "You are Eragon Shadeslayer, Argetlam, Rider of Saphira, Hero of the Varden. But more than these, you are my brother-in-arms. I will not turn away from you because of your father."

"Nor shall I," Arya said gently. "You are a free Rider of Alagaesia. Your name is your own as your destiny is yours to write."

Overwhelmed by their friendship, Eragon twisted his hand over his chest and bowed, tears stinging his eyes.

Galen huffed a laugh. "Obviously, I am not going to have a problem with this. I always wanted a younger sibling."

"Truly?" Eragon looked at her from the corner of his eye.

"Absolutely," she smiled at him gently. "So did Murtagh," she added after a moment. "He said if he had another younger sibling, he'd have two minions instead of just one."

Nasuada had to clap a hand over her mouth to keep her laugh in, but Eragon snorted before he could stop it. Arya's mouth lifted ever-so-slightly at the corners.

"Did he really?" Eragon grinned. It was tired and a little bit broken, but it was genuine, so she counted it as a win.

"Yes he did," Galen shook her head ruefully. "That boy always got us into the worst of troubles. It was almost as though trouble were a sentient being that just followed him around." She points at Eragon. "You are far too similar to him in that regard."

His eyes widened. "I am not!"

"Yes. You are." Arya said bluntly.

Nasuada laughed at Eragon's indignant face. "Alright," she said. "Eragon, Galen. You are injured, both of you, and weary in both body and soul. Go. Rest. We will speak more in the morning."

Galen rose to her feet with Arya's assistance, and only wavered a moment before finding her balance. "Aye," she said. "I wouldn't mind a cot about now."

"Then go," Nasuada said softly. "I will see you on the morrow."

The Riders bowed to her and departed her tent with Roran following them.

Eragon stopped a few yards from the tent and placed his hands on his hips, letting out a long breath. "So now you know," he said.

Roran shrugged. "Blood always tells," he replied.

Galen's eyes flashed and she whipped around and glared. "Don't say that," she hissed.

Eragon gritted his teeth. "Don't ever say that," he growled.

Roran took a step back from them. "You're right, it was a careless comment. I meant nothing by it."

"Then perhaps you should think before you say things that "mean nothing."" Galen seethed.

Roran nodded, and they kept walking.

By the time they reached their tent, Galen had her arm around Eragon's waist to support the taller Rider, while he had an arm around her shoulders to support her. The dragons had beaten them to the tent, and Islingr was already completely asleep. Saphira wasn't far behind, but she brushed against their minds gently to remind them not to stay up too late.

"We won't," Eragon smiled at her, resting a hand on her snout. Galen kissed Islingr's crest, then sagged against Saphira's neck. The blue dragon curled her neck and pressed her forehead to Galen's, allowing some of her energy to seep into the Silver Rider, soothing and healing her bruises and scrapes. The girl sighed in relief, eyes closing.

She stood straight a moment later, murmuring her thanks. She pressed a kiss to Saphira's jaw, then stepped into the tent. Eragon and Roran followed. Eragon plopped on his bed, and Galen sat beside him, curling close and putting her head on his shoulder. He dropped one arm over her frame as Roran sat on the bed opposite.

They were silent for a long time.

Finally, Roran broke the silence. "So," he said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "You're a Dragon Rider." He blinked. "Well, there's a sentence I never thought would come out of my mouth."

Eragon stared at him for a minute, then his mouth started twitching. Then he started to chuckle, and then he started to laugh.

Roran scowled. "You think this is funny?" he demanded.

Eragon ran a trembling hand through his hair. "No," he said hoarsely, another bout of hysterical laughter bursting through his lips. "I don't think it's funny at all. It's all just so broken and backwards, and I honestly don't know what to do anymore."

Galen bit her lip and blinked away her tears. Roran's face softened in understanding as Eragon wiped his eyes and pulled himself together.

"Well," the Blue Rider said softly. "We've agreed that I have much to answer for. Where should I start?"

There it is. Normally, I don't like OCs like this, but I was pretty pleased with how she turned out. She wasn't too high and mighty, was she? I'm going to leave this as unfinished for now. This is actually all I have on this idea right now, but if you guys like it, I'll continue it. If you have any ideas/requests, you can either PM me or put it in a review.

Drop me a line or two and let me know what you thought! I love hearing your input!

Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!