A/N: This story really isn't what my interpretation of Book 3 or 4 should be. Instead, it is just me writing a story about the creatures that fascinate me the most – the dragons, specifically Saphira and Shruikan. Chapters will generally be longer than the Prologue, so enjoy!

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Galbatorix's Castle in Uru'baen

Saphira was a dragon in chains; therefore she was no dragon.

If her Rider weren't still alive, she would consider herself to be practically Nameless, a colorless dragon with no identity and no attachment to the world.

She had been in captivity for what felt like months in a special prison the black king designed just for her. Galbatorix, the cruel ruler that he was, allowed Saphira's cell to contain a barred window. It was small enough to hide the beauties of the world from her sight, yet it was large enough to where she knew exactly when the sun reached the middle of the sky. She cursed the window, because it demonstrated that Galbatorix understood her. He knew that the most horrendous crime he could commit against any dragon was to take their Rider and their freedom; and through her folly, Galbatorix had succeeded in doing both.

During her stay in the Oath Breaker's prison, Saphira was beaten in regular intervals, and her mind grew hazy from the pain. However, in those rare moments where she drifted into consciousness, she starred out of the window, subjecting herself to mental torture while knowing deep inside that she deserved it.

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Nasuada's Pavillion

Saphira poked her head through the hole in Nasuada's tent, trying to appear uninterested for her Rider, Eragon's, sake. She shut off part of her mind to him, letting her dislike of formalities take over the gloomy dread creeping over her scales.

Eragon, after bowing to his liege lord, took a quick glance at Saphira, a curious look etching his face. She knew that he would notice when she cut off her thoughts from him, but she smiled nonetheless, hoping to appease him.

Her little one turned away from her, and she too turned her focus on Nasuada. To Saphira's surprise, she noticed a slight hunch in the human's shoulders. It was not enough to make her look any less regal, but it showed Saphira that whatever the reason for her summons, it had not been easy for her. Saphira also noticed Nasuada's dress, which reminded her of stone – a drastic change from her usual gowns of emerald and sapphire – and her face was haggard and world-weary, making her look older than her age.

As her vassal approached her, she stood and greeted him warmly. "Eragon," she welcomed, getting rid of the small slouch in her posture.

Eragon bowed again. "At your service."

As hard as she tried to smile, Nasuada only managed a dismal tug at her lips. Saphira's dread grew from Nasuada's attempt, and she knew she wouldn't have to wait long for the human woman to state her purpose.

"I have a mission for you," she explained, her voice turning stern and reproachful with an inscrutable mask covering her true feelings. "And Eragon, just know that I will not be swayed from this decision."

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Saphira, hungry and incredibly lonely, reflected that she should have known that her mission would lead to this fate. In vain, she tested the motion of her wing, and she growled at pain the instant she tried. She had been beaten to the point of uselessness, and all because she and Eragon had been willing to sacrifice the most for the sake of the country.

And, adding to her guilt, Eragon had warned her, and her pride had kept her from listening.

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Eragon's Tent

Saphira, no, Eragon said sternly, his words containing a firm note of finality. He was polishing his armor for the battle to come while Saphira basked in the sunlight outside his tent. There are a million different ways to defeat this Empire, but planning to get ourselves captured is not one of them.

Well what are your other suggestions? She asked, feeling like he was being foolish. We are losing this war, and this is the only way I believe we can defeat Galbatorix and Shruikan.

Eragon growled in frustration. I don't know Saphira. I don't know how we can defeat them, but I will not let them take us to Uru'baen.

It is our orders, Eragon, and as a vassal, you should obey, she argued, trying to make him understand why they had to make the sacrifice. We are powerful together, little one, but we are not more powerful than the Riders who oppose us in magical or physical combat. We have to do this for the good of the Varden.

By what Saphira? Lying to them? By being taken willingly to the king himself, knowing that he'll torture and humiliate us? How does Nasuada expect us to avoid swearing fealty at all costs when Galbatorix and Shruikan can manipulate our minds and break our bones as much as they please? We'll go mad!

Saphira could sense his emotions – the sadness, the anger, the sense of impending doom. She tried soothing him, because at the time, she believed that Nasuada's mission was their only chance.

Think of what we could gain from this, little one, she urged, trying to placate him. We are the last free Dragon and Rider. We have the will power to not crumble under torture. It is our duty to discover how to separate the King from his stolen Dragon, and it is our duty to free Thorn and Murtagh. We must for Orik, Roran, Katrina, and Arya. We must do it for the future.

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They spent the rest of the afternoon arguing about the course of their plans. When Saphira randomly pondered on that time, she realized that she should have spent time enjoying Eragon's company. She should have taken him flying when the sun was setting or hunting or swimming.

Saphira had wasted that time, and she wished with all her majesty and power that she had not pushed him into their ultimate decision. Now, her mind had come up with a million ways to avoid the path they had chosen, and it made her grow bitter inside.

Despite her feelings, she did not feel angry towards Nasuada. The leader of the Varden was not delusional, and she saw from reports, charts, and men that our hopes of winning this war were waning. Her forces were depleting in increasing speed, her politics were being questioned, and her ultimate weapon would never defeat the black king through honorable means. Her plan was basically an act of desperation, and though her decision was the most dangerous of all her options, Saphira was not so sure whether she would not have arrived at the same conclusion.

Meanwhile Murtagh and Thorn had grown stronger and now commanded legions of Galbatorix's army. Their destruction wrecked havoc on many of the Varden, lowering moral and causing many incidences of insubordination and rebellion. At the time, Murtagh's army was stationed across the field, protecting the walls of Dras-Leona.

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Battle For Dras-Leona

"You can't win Eragon," yelled Murtagh, laughing hysterically. He stood on the steps of Helgrind towering over a fallen Eragon while Thorn had Saphira by the neck. "You and your dragon should come quietly. It will save you a lot of pain."

Saphira I—.

For the good of the Varden, Saphira replied weakly as Thorn tightened his grip.

Her and Eragon had agreed to fight Murtagh and Thorn, so they wouldn't raise suspicions about their true mission by giving up so easily. No one must know, because the Varden would feel betrayed and lost while the King would kill them for their scheme.

Saphira, trying to waste time, spit blue fire into Thorn's face. Thorn responded with fire of his own, the force of his breath making his fire cut through her stream of flames. Saphira roared and swiped at him with her tail.

Eragon! she pleaded before trying to scorch Thorn's side. If they tried to last much longer they would die. We've wasted enough time. You must cast the spell now!

Eragon responded by uttering the shield spell that would feed off of both his and Saphira's energy supply. Saphira tensed, feeling his strength being sucked from his body by his spell. Murtagh laughed at what looked like to be a futile attempt at protection, and Eragon and Saphira took a small satisfaction in knowing that they had fooled him, that this is exactly what they wanted.

"You think that your spell will keep me from taking you to the King?" Murtagh asked incredulously. "You always had a vast amount of luck, Eragon, but today, your luck has failed you." Then, with the might of his mind, he used his most powerful spells to not only break through his barrier but through his mind.

Each hit weakened Eragon and Saphira's energy supply, and Murtagh and Thorn watched their progress with determined satisfaction. Saphira paid no attention, and as Eragon muttered the words to stop the spell and fainted shortly after, she too allowed the void to take her into the place of half-consciousness.

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When she next woke up, Saphira was on the floor in Galbatorix's throne room under the dark, insane gaze of the dragon, Shruikan. She knew she was hurt, but she looked up defiantly into the eyes of the crazed dragon, challenging him and his power.

Shruikan did not disappoint. She was back into oblivion with the first swipe of his claw.

After that encounter, Saphira assumed that Shruikan had roughly taken her to her torture cell. From then on she was beaten every so often, mentally and physically, but she endured, because she knew in her heart that Eragon, the main reason of her existence, was still alive. She comprehended from the snide comments the guards or the magicians made during her beatings that they were trying to break her spirit, and until they did, they would not stop.

Saphira tried to endure. She tried to not worry about her lack of food, her destroyed scales, or her Rider. She could not give up, because if she did, all would be lost.

No matter what, she would find a way to win.

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A/N: Thank you for reading!