I'll admit right now that this is my first ever attempt at an Eragon fan fiction. Therefore, if I don't get the characters right, or get some things from the ancient language wrong, don't flame me for that. I'll accept constructive criticism, but flames are some things that are not needed. If you choose to flame this story anyone, then I'll give you nothing but amusement in return. Be warned. Now, enjoy!

Step I: Captured Thief

"Take care of him, please!"

Thrash.

"Where are you going?"

Kick.

"…Goodbye."

Flail. Repeat.

"But what about—"

Thrash.

"She will live. Farewell, dear brother."

Kick.

"No—! Wait! WAIT—"

Flail.

"We will probably never meet again…"

This time, the cycle did not repeat.

This time, her eyelids, which were stubbornly squeezed together tightly, fluttered open to reveal the panicked glint in her dark eyes. Her body snapped up into a sitting position as her wary orbs darted around to check, almost timidly, if she was under attack. Her fears proved groundless. There was no one in the tiny room but herself.

A deep sigh of relief was exhaled.

It was just a dream. Nothing else.

If this was the case, why was she always so frightened whenever she awakened nowadays? Before, her mind was plagued with not nightmares of that woman's voice, conversing with that other person's, but thoughts of more ways to obtain food and other essential items that one needed to live.

The nightmares always began with a blur of the metal of a weapon. Then, clearer than anything else, she would see blood rain down upon everything until she couldn't see straight. Blood. Just blood. Nothing else. Then, when she would begin to believe that she would only see blood for the rest of her life, a strange, beryl rock would appear, its surface smooth and unblemished with no traces of anything but flawlessness.

Sometimes, it infuriated her. Other times, it frightened her. Most of the time, it confused her.

What did it mean?

Azorn reached a slender hand up to her temples, frowning as she traced imaginary circles on it to calm herself. While she used to always have peaceful sleep, other than dreams about how she was going to survive the next day of her life in Urû'baen, now, she always woke up sprawled out on the ground of the room in a position that suggested she had been thrashing, flailing, and kicking. She shook her head.

There's no time to think about this kind of stuff, she assured herself adamantly, refusing to ponder about the nightmares any further. I can't think about the nightmares.

Tentatively, she cautiously stood from the ground and smoothed out her wrinkled apparel, which was cloaked in grime and dirt from the lack of wash and change. Ever since she had been young, she had been a thief that struggled to live. But then again, being a thief changed the way you thought about things, made your senses sharper, taught you how to deal with things in hardships…

Which was why she was who she was now.

Her disheveled, mid-back length hair was mostly dirtied because of the fact she had lived on the streets, stealing all the time. Her skin lingered between pale and slightly tanned from both running through the bright streets and hiding out in dark places. Her figure was slender and lean from years of running for hours straight. She was fairly small for her age, which was fifteen, and she wasn't proud or modest about it. Still, Azorn liked the fact that she was small. It increased her agility and made it easier to conceal herself from angered guards or enraged salespeople.

In a way, most of her traits worked to her advantage.

But now, she thought solemnly, it's time to go out again. I wonder if I can make it off with some more fruit this time?

Shrugging off her worries, Azorn strode nimbly towards the door of the small room and opened the door just a crack open and peered out. She blinked, easily adjusting the darkness of the dawn that lied just beyond the door of the shack and stepped out, stretching slowly. That shack was the perfect hiding place. It was too small to be noticed, but big enough to not allow wandering people to enter for fear that someone actually lived in it.

Her lips quirked in an uneasy smile as a grim thought crossed her restless mind.

I have a bad feeling about what's going to happen today…

Elsewhere, the brown-haired male stood, leaning against the wall almost lazily as he barely watched the guard before him rant about something.

To sum it up, all he heard was, "This blah, blah, blah stop blah, blah thief blah, blah steal blah, blah, blah and blah, blah, blah, blah just blah, blah, blah, blah, blah COMPLAINING!" The guard rounded on the male, eyes narrowed. "King Galbatorix has ordered her to be captured."

He lazily looked at the guard. "…What?"

"YOU WEREN'T LISTENING?"

"Shut up," he snapped, disgruntled, and turned to leave. "Look, I don't care about this. Galbatorix can just die."

The guard visibly flinched. "But sir, he has ordered that she—"

"Look, I heard!" he retorted irritably, turning to leave. His red sword gleamed threateningly from its position on his belt. "If you don't leave me alone, I'll just kill you now and leave Galbatorix to do whatever. I don't care."

Suddenly, yells began to sound nearby along with shrieks and the shuffling of movement and clanging of swords.

Now incredibly pissed, the male swept his heel and turned, leaving a stunned guard in his wake, who hastily hurried away afterwards.

"How much could a thief do?" he snarled to no one in particular, unsheathing his sword.

Azorn, to sum it up, was in deep trouble.

She chuckled nervously under her breath and cursed as an armored soldier turned the corner and spotted her. "There she is!"

Azorn immediately fled.

The situation had started out innocently enough. Okay, so she was caught by the owner of the stand she had been stealing from and ran. She had been stupid enough to run for her life to an alleyway and escape into a building. But it turned out that she had entered the palace.

How pathetic of her!

She mentally cussed and continued to run, a satchel of fruits and other foods clutched tightly in her slim fingers. After what felt like an eternity, she had slammed into something and stumbled backwards, biting her lip her enough to draw blood. She wiped her mouth and looked up to glare and preferably knock out the person she had slammed into…

…Who just happened to have a rather dangerous looking sword drawn and held out so its tip pointed at her neck.

Her brown eyes narrowed at the male that stood before her.

"…So you're the thief that they've been complaining about?" he asked with a slight hint of amusement. "Pathetic. I don't see how they can't even capture a thief like you."

Azorn gazed at him mockingly. "Yeah. Says the idiot who overestimated his own abilities and underestimated his enemy's!" She pulled back and leapt over him before proceeding to flee.

Something in her gut told her that he was going to catch her sooner or later, for he was probably some incredibly trained assassin or something serving the king, but for now, she decided to pay no heed to that and focus on escaping. She had caused a ruckus in the castle, so now, she had to end it.

What a pain.

Azorn was about to rush up a flight of stairs when a shouted cry behind her forced her to freeze.

"Letta!"

Azorn collapsed to the ground, as though obscured ropes bound her in place. She twitched, trembled, and struggled, but she couldn't get free.

The next thing she knew, darkness came and she felt herself lose consciousness.

But why did she feel as though she knew the stranger that had frozen her? Something… told her that there was more than what met the eye.