Don't worry readers of my other stories, I'm not starting this yet. I just wanted to get the idea up there so that you all could tell me what you think. This is just like "Every Breath" in the fact that I wont continue it until after my other stories are complete. Well, maybe a chapter here and there but I wont really start it until I finish the other ones.

The soothing, repetitive sound of the sea lapping against the side of the boat was causing Eragon's eyes to droop. He'd been locked in this cell for two weeks now and the splintering wood below him was chafing at his raw skin. Still, exhaustion got the best of him, his eye lids slipping closed while the ship rocked him in to a deep sleep. Several hours later he was jolted awake by a horrendous crash of wood and iron. Jerking himself upright, his eyes darted about, trying to discover the source of the commotion while the moon cast strange shadows through his cell. It wasn't until he heard the shouting of voices that he realized the boat was being attacked. Most likely by pirates.

He rolled to his feet just as the boat was bashed with another barrage of cannon fire, causing him to fall into the iron bars that made up his prison. He winced, his hand coming to his face to relieve the subtle pain. It was then that he heard footsteps coming down from the deck at a rapid pace. A sailer, rank of Master by the look of him, stumbled down the steps and past his cell. Eragon called for his attention.

"What the bloody hell is going on out there?"

The man whirled, momentarily startled by Eragon. He returned to rummaging through an open barrel, completely ignoring Eragon's attempts to discern what was happening. Finding what he was looking for, the sailor started back up the stairs before freezing. He looked down a second before turning back and pulling a slender dagger from his belt. He tossed it into the cell, an apologetic look in his eyes.

"Good luck, mate. Sorry to leave ya' like this but I'm making my escape from this wretched boat. If I can make it at least."

With a goodbye salute, the sailer was gone. Eragon curled his hand around the grip of the blade and slid it into the rope that held up his shabby, itchy trousers. He slammed his hands into the grimy metal bars and swore. There was no way he was getting out of this prison. He would go down with the ship and that would be that. Letting out a submissive sigh, he dropped back onto the ground with a loud thud, trying to ignore the sorrow that ate at his soul. There was so much that he wished to do before he was taken to the depths of death.

Several thuds from above made curiosity stir through him, but not enough to remain on his mind. Suddenly swords were clashing, metal against metal as feet pounded repeatedly over his head. A realization gave him hope. They were boarding. That meant the pirates most likely desired something on the boat. They would search and that search would lead them down to him. Not a too appealing thought but it was better than the alternative. He stood, moving the blade out of sight around his back. His hands latched on to two of the bars tightly. The cold iron bit into his skin as he waited for the inevitable.

Several moments later, when the fighting had come to a halt, he heard approaching footsteps. What he saw surprised him immensely. Instead of the dreadfully disgusting face of the stereotypical pirate, the man before him was tall and graceful. His hair was long and silver in color, tucked carefully under a deep green bandana. He wore a white sailor's vest that was open, showing a hairless chest. His knee breeches were the same color as the rag on his head and he sported polished black bucket boots. It was an impressive look for one that was obviously low in rank for he had no added extravagance that exuded his importance. The man stopped cold, his cold hazel eyes piercing Eragon through like a sword. Almost instantly, the pirate had unsheathed his blade and the tip was at Eragon's throat.

"Who are you?"

Eragon raised his eyebrows at the man's clean language. Not in the sense that he didn't curse, but the fact that words hadn't been ground down and roughed up. Eragon raised his hands above his head, trying to show his innocence.

"I was taken by the Navy when they caught me scouring their boat while it was docked. I heard something quite valuable was hidden aboard and decided it was worth it. Obviously not as it turns out. Look at where it got me."

The pirate tilted his head, eyes curious.

"What accent is that?"

"I'm English. You want to let me out of here?"

The man stepped back, sheathing his sword.

"No."

He continued on without a glance back and Eragon clenched his jaw furiously. He thought a moment and an idea sprang into his mind.

"I know where it is."

The pirate turned.

"What?"

Eragon smirked.

"Caught your fancy, eh? I said I know what it is you're looking for and I know where to find it. You let me out, I'll take you to it."

The pirate was at the cell in seconds, his sword at Eragon's chest.

"Or you could tell me right here and now."

Eragon pushed the blade away with his pointer finger, knowing the man wouldn't kill him if he was thought to have important information.

"Why would I do that? You leave me in this cage and I die as an animal. You stab me and I die as a man. I'd rather take that way."

The man feigned disinterest.

"What we're looking for is large enough. We'll find it eventually."

Taking a huge risk, Eragon countered him.

"Nice attempt to fool me. What you seek is the furthest from large."

Frowning deeply, the pirate nodded.

"Wait here."

With that he disappeared, leaving Eragon alone. He breathed deeply at his luck for he knew nothing of what they were searching for. Moving quickly, he pulled the dagger from his makeshift belt and held it so the blade was against his forearm, hidden behind it and inside his sleeve. The cold steel reminded him that this would be his last chance. He had to make it off this boat or these pirates would kill him. It took several minutes for the man to return and with him was another pirate, one of obvious status. He was either captain or first mate but his authority seemed to bleed from his person. Shoulder-length, striking, blue hair and eyes so gold that they almost seemed yellow. The man wore a white linen shirt with a green silk vest over it.

His boots were polished beyond that of the first man's so that they shined even in the dimness of the cabin. He wore black marooner pants as well, a leather belt hooked around them with two pistols holsters. Eragon decided that this was most definitely the first mate. While he was commanding, his clothes suggested that he wasn't the Captain. The blue haired man looked upon Eragon shrewdly.

"You say you know the location of the deed?"

They're looking for a deed? Is that all? Eragon grinned.

"Of course." He ran his fingers causally across the iron. "All you have to do is let me out of this rancid little hole."

The first mate thought for a time before motioning the other man forward.

"Open it."

Keys clicked into the lock and a clanking noise rose from it as the lock released. The door swung open and Eragon waited for instructions. The first mate told his man to go first, then he gripped Eragon's arm and ordered him to follow. He brought up the rear, prodding Eragon in the back if he ever changed pace even a little. Wood creaked as they stepped and the noise from above continued to get louder. As they broke to the surface, Eragon received the first light he'd felt in days. He closed his eyes, basking in the cold breeze as it drifted through his long hair and unkempt beard.

It wasn't his normal look at all, usually leaning towards the more cleanly cut and polished style. But at the moment, it was cleverly disguising his features. Something he was quite happy for because while he didn't think these pirates would know of him, he could never be too careful. Many glances were cast his direction but he ignored them, waiting for a moment when he could break free. The time came when the first mate turned to speak to another crew member, leaving only one person in his way to the railing of the deck.

Gripping the dagger with his right hand, he slid it swiftly out of his left sleeve and cut it across the sailors chest. The man let out a cry of shock and pain, staggering backwards. Eragon knew it wasn't enough to kill him so he forged ahead at a dead sprint, aiming for the water. He leapt into the air, hearing shouts ring out behind him. His left foot landed lightly on the rail and he used his momentum to shove off, flipping himself in the air and twisting. As he faced the deck, he gave a cocky grin and waved.

Feeling the rush of freedom, he chuckled pridefully and straightened his body as he neared the water. His feet hit first, sinking him deep into the cold of the ocean. It's murky green water washed over his filthy skin as he went lower. His plan was to stay under the water as long as possible so that the pirates couldn't take any shots at him but that was halted when he hit something that blocked his descent. Looking down, he saw a net. In confusion, he didn't notice that it was rising about him on all sides. By the time he did it was too late.

Walls of rope closed in around him and he was helpless. Try as he might, the rope fought him. It wasn't for a few moments that he realized there were two people outside that were keeping the top closed. He tried to strike out at them to no avail as his hands couldn't fit through the holes. All he ended up doing was cutting the skin of his knuckles. He looked around for the knife he'd dropped but to his dismay he realized it had easily slid through the holes between the ropes. Slowly, he was lifted from the water by the two swimmers.

He counted himself lucky at this moment that he had such a great lung capacity or he'd be edging on unconscious at the moment. Still, by the time they escaped the water's drowning pull, he was almost at the end of his ability. He sucked in a huge breath as drops of water coursed a path down his face. The two men crested the water, waiting for something that Eragon was unaware of. A noise above caused him to look up and he saw the wench that was meant to lower rowboats into the water, coming near the group at its own leisurely pace. When it reached the brisk waves, the two pirates on the outside connected the hook to the top of the net and tugged roughly. They began to raise up from the cool ocean and the once pleasant breeze now seemed to ice his skin as it hit the cold water that had soaked him through.

Once they rose above the railing, the two men jumped down and one bared his blade, slashing at the rope and sending him tumbling to the deck. He rolled onto his back and spread out his arms in an exhausted fashion. He rested there, not trying to escape for they seemed to have thought of everything. It would be a futile attempt. The sunlight above him was blocked as somebody stepped by his head, looking down with an amused smirk.

"At least you know when you are beaten."

Eragon blew out a slow breath and shrugged at the first mate.

"You win some you lose some. I'm thinking this is the last one I'm ever going to lose though. Seeing as you're pirates and from what I hear, them are some nasty fellows."

The man laughed heartily.

"We are pirates yes, but we belong to a more. . .shall we say, noble faction. Now, I do apologize for what is to come next. We can't have you seeing where we are headed. Eragon was yanked to his feet as the butt of a sword was slammed across his head simultaneously.

-A-R-Y-A-

"I don't need help, mother."

She was leaning against the balcony in her room of her mother's unnecessarily massive mansion wishing she could be anywhere else. The wind whipped past her at a rapid pace, pulling at her hair that was tied in a loose pony. Beside her, Islanzadi was trying to explain why Arya needed to bring somebody along on her next mission.

"Arya, you are not going in there alone. That is my final decision. I will not allow my only daughter to recklessly toss her life about as if nobody will miss her when she'd gone. I will not lose you as I lost your father."

Arya tensed, her blood running cold and her fists clenching.

"Stop it."

Her mother sighed, resting her hand on Arya's shoulder.

"I'm sorry, alright? I didn't mean to bring him into this. I just. . . .I just worry for you."

Arya shrugged her mother's hand away.

"I know. But you don't need to. I'll be fine."

Islanzadi's face took on a hard look.

"You are not going alone. You're new acquaintance will be arriving soon and you can judge his skill. If he doesn't meet up, you may look for another. But, until we find a replacement you will remain here."

Arya was just about to argue when a call came from outside the room. She walked brusquely across the room, he boots sinking into the plush, patterned carpet. Flinging open the door she saw several men run past the door. Calling for one, she asked what was happening. The nervous shipmate twisted his green scarf in his hands.

"Your boat has returned ma'a- I mean sir. Some of the men heard rumor that the cargo it had been sent to obtain was of utmost importance. We were just going to see what it was."

Arya nodded and waved the boy away, slamming the door and walking into her bedroom, yelled at her mother.

"Your pet is here. I suggest you go and gather him. The leash is in the chest."

Her words were dripping with sarcasm and malice. Her mother walked into the room, obviously not amused.

"You are coming to meet him as well, Arya." She cut her off before she could argue. "No, if you want to go on this mission at all and not have somebody replace you, you are going shut that mouth of yours and follow me down to the docks. Understood?"

Burning inside, Arya nodded her consent and tailed her mother into the hall. She sighed under her breath, debating whether her mom would truly take away her assignment. After a moment of pondering she had her answer. Of course she would. They arrived at the docks minutes later and Islanzadi pushed through the pirates that surrounded Arya's boat. People scattered out of their way as they saw them coming so the remainder of the trip to her ship was easy going.

They stopped on the edge of the dock waiting, the sea breeze flying past her and making her feel perfectly at ease. She'd missed her boat and the feel of the waves as it raised and lowered beneath her feet. Still, she wouldn't be able to take it out again until the situation of this new man was over. She'd get her way eventually, until then, she'd play along with her mother's wishes. She could see her first mate, Blödhgarm, standing regally at the edge of the main deck, waiting to disembark. He nodded respectfully at her and Islanzadi before waving his hand to somebody aboard. The gangplank was set and he started towards them.

"Ma'am," He spoke formally to her mother. To her he was more casual, letting a small smile grace his face. "Arya I thank you for trusting me with her. She sails like a dream come true."

Arya let her own smile grace her features briefly.

"As much as I didn't have much in way of choice, you're welcome. There is nobody else I would intrust her to."

Islanzadi interrupted there.

"You acquired him?"

Blödhgarm nodded.

"Yes. He is unconscious at the moment. I wanted to make sure he didn't see where we were located. He says he's from England and that he got caught poking around the Cheyenne and that's when they took him in. Not certain how much of it is true. He seemed a good liar when he spoke to my man, Narí. Tried to convince him that he knew of the location of the treasure we sought. Even convinced Narí that there might be something else valuable on the ship."

Islanzadi seemed amused.

"He's a crafty thief, I'll give him that. You didn't have much trouble with him I assume?"

Blödhgarm grimaced.

"Not much, no. He did give Narí a little scratch as he jumped ship. We had prepared for it though, and he only succeeded in hitting the water."

Arya listened intently, trying to decipher what type of man she'd be dealing with. He sounded a scoundrel and her hopes were low. Islanzadi called for the man to be brought down. Two men appeared dragging a ragged and limp prisoner between them, each holding an arm. A stench came with them that caused her to cringe. Blödhgarm chuckled.

"He was a sea in that cell for over two weeks with no bath. No bathroom either. It seemed a rather unpleasant situation."

Her mother looked the man over, eyes shrewd.

"He does look rather distasteful at the moment. Before I speak with him I want him cleaned and dressed in more proper attire."

Blödhgarm nodded.

"Yes ma'am."

He started to lead the two pirates holding Eragon when a coughing brought them to a halt. Arya looked down to find that the man was waking up. He tried to pull his arms away but failed and began laughing.

"If you plan to kill me, do it well or I might return to haunt you."

His voice shocked her. Not so much at it's sound but at the way her insides stirred excitedly. She frowned at the man, looking closely. Under the beard and dreadfully tangled hair was a young man, not an mid-aged fellow as she had assumed. Islanzadi chuckled, something that didn't happen often.

"Oh my plans for you range far beyond death, old friend. You owe me quite a large debt."

Arya's eyebrows pinched together in confusion. Her mother knew this man? She planned on asking her about it after he was led off. The prisoner turned his head, gazing intently at Islanzadi.

"My, my, my. After all these years you still have the face of a young woman, Islanzadi. And where might your husband be? Does he fare the same?"

Both Islanzadi's and the face of her daughter went dark but her mother just shook her head.

"He passed several years before. I will not speak of this. You know, I will allow you to have your freedom if you just return to me what you stole, Swiftshadow."

The man chuckled.

"Ahh, if only I had not sold it to my French friend, I would gladly return it to your hands. Perhaps, if you allow my freedom, I could acquire it and deliver it at your feet?"

Her mother scoffed.

"Your tricks wont sway me." Islanzadi flicked her hand. "Take him to be cleaned. And keep an eye on him, he's a sly one."

The men carrying him nodded and Blödhgarm followed them out. Before she had a chance to ask her mother anything, she looked over and found her striding through the crowd. Arya made to follow but her crew was just exiting the ship and so instead, she remained and spoke with them.

-E-R-A-G-O-N-

He was in deep trouble. He'd stolen from the Drottingus over six years ago when he was only beginning his career. At age fifteen, he knew not of who to take from and who to leave alone. After being entangled in something which he had no business being involved in, Eragon made a rash decision to to hide on the boat of the very people he had angered. Sneaking aboard had been no difficulty as the ship was moored on the furthest peer from the wharf master's tiny shack. Once aboard he decided to hide in the Captain's quarters, the last place anyone would ever look for an intruder. Upon entering the room, Eragon wasted no time in poking around looking for valuables to line his purse. It was this instant that he stumbled upon the most exquisite sword he had every laid eyes upon.

The sword was a standard design, a seaman's cutlass. Versatile and practical on the open waters, yet elegant enough to be worn in town. The blade had been forged using hardened steel on the blade and a softer more opalescent steel along the spine. Along the steel from the cross-guard there were golden engravings in a strangely cursive language which Eragon couldn't understand. The hilt was more ornate then anything the young man had ever seen, it was completely black with diamonds placed around the pommel and a golden line ran around the grip to the cross guard. It was breathtaking, causing him to forget for a moment that it belonged to somebody very powerful.

In that time, he became very attached to the weapon and when he reached his crew much later, he had decided to keep it for himself, willing to take any chances in order to hold ownership of it. He'd been forced to leave behind the scabbard because it was of the same craftsmanship of he sword and it would too easily noticed. Instead, he'd boughten a rather standard scabbard that mostly fit the weapon. Now he was thinking all of that had been a very bad idea. One that would cause him quite a lot of grief. Takings his mind off his troubles, he turned it to a more pleasant event. He had been blindfolded and drug to a room somewhere in this humongous palace of a home and now he was sitting in a white porcelain bath, letting the scalding water soak into his rough skin and dusty hair. Eragon scrubbed the soap into his pores, letting it rest there before washing it off with the already browning water. He stayed there for what seemed like an hour before somebody rudely bashed on the door.

"Get out and get dressed. There are clothes for you on the bed."

He grumbled in annoyance, standing in the dimly lit room and grabbing the towel from a dresser nearby. Once dry, he stepped out onto the cold, grey stone floor, shaking his still shaggy hair out of his eyes. He made his way into the bedroom, glad that they had not sent anyone in to watch him. Not that he could do anything in a windowless room obviously meant for more shady characters. Still, it was nicer than most the places he stayed. The walls were a sea blue-green and everything was made of polished wood.

The floors were stone just as in the bathroom, while a plush, velvety-red carpet was covering the bedroom stone. Not to mention the bed. It was a four poster, made completely of the finest wood money could buy. The comforter, a creamy color, was soft under his brazen fingers. He pulled the clothing off his bed, pulling up a fine pair of black lace up breeches that somewhat hugged his legs. Next he sat on the bed and slid on the black Captain boots and buckled them. Standing, Eragon ventured to the mirror and studied his appearance.

An array of scars covered his otherwise toned front. They came from his way of life to be sure, and he was proud to carry them. Grinning, he grabbed the white buccaneer shirt and pulled it over his head. A belt was the last remaining item and he cinched it around his waist, on top of the shirt. Looking again in the mirror, he frowned at his appearance. Still he did not look the charming youth he usually did. It was the damned beard and horrendous hair. Going to the door he opened it and found the blue haired man along with the two others. He gave them a grin.

"Any way I could get this unappetizing rug of hair off of my face?"

One pirate looked suspiciously at him.

"So you want a blade? Do you think us dull? We aren't giving you something that can be wielded against us."

Eragon sighed.

"Please? You may hold a gun to my head as I shave, but I can't stand this mop any longer."

Blödhgarm smiled cunningly. Reaching for his belt, he unholstered his pistol.

"Celdin, retrieve a razor and bring it here. Our guest would like to trim his pelt."

The man called Celdin looked surprised.

"But sir-"

Blödhgarm shooed him.

"No buts. Go."

It took many minutes before he returned with a straight razor. Blödhgarm lifted the pistol to Eragon's head and motioned for the blade to be given to him. Taking it, Eragon walked back inside and looked in the mirror. He set the razor down to show that he had no ill-intent before he made a trip to the bathroom and snatched the soap and a small bowl that he filled with water. It took almost thirty minutes before he was completely satisfied with the cut. After that, he turned his attention to his hair.

Not knowing exactly how to deal with it, he just decided to hack it away. Strands fell to the floor in a haphazard mess. He got it to an acceptable length and set the blade down, looking at the result. It wasn't too shabby. Not like he usually looked for he didn't have the skill of a barber, but it was much better than it had been. Turning towards Blödhgarm, he grinned.

"I'm ready to meet the lady of the house."

Rolling his eyes, the blue-haired man holstered his pistol and looked to Celdin.

"Find a servant to clean up this mess and then meet us in the ballroom."

Eragon chuckled in amusement.

"Why is it that we meet in a ballroom? Are we going to dance?"

"No, you are going to speak with the Commodore and her daughter. Prepare yourself for together they are a frightening force."

Eragon grinned.

"Daughter?"

Blödhgarm gave him a look of warning.

"Don't try. Captain Arya will dismember you before you finish the sentence."

A bag was placed over Eragon's head and he was led down a maze of halls and down a set of steps. After another distant walk, they arrived at their destination for the blind was removed from his head. He looked about and found himself before two large wooden double doors with polished brass handles. Blödhgarm nodded for him to open one and he complied, entering into a spacious room with wood floors polished to a shine. The ceiling was twice the height of normal ones and the walls were made of mirrors. The cost of this room alone would keep him fed for a year. A glass chandelier hung from the ceiling and threw light about the room in a speckled pattern.

His eyes came lastly to the table the had been placed in the center of the room. It was out of place and he grimaced in distaste. It ruined the entire feel that the room created. Finding the eyes of Islanzadi, he walked towards her with a grin, arms open in a gesture of peace.

"I'm sure we can come to an agreeable solution to this whole fuss. I have money to spare."

Islanzadi laughed, waving her hand about the room.

"Does it look like I need more money?" She answered her own question, giving him a look. "No. I need skills. Skills that I at the moment do not have access you. Swiftshadow,I require your services."

Furrowing his brow, Eragon tilted his head in question.

"For?"

Islanzadi motioned to the woman next to her that Eragon hadn't laid eyes on as of yet. What he saw choked the breath from his lungs and caused his heart to stop for several shocked beats. He breathed deeply, trying to remain composed as bright green eyes bore into his soul and rooted out all the things he held hidden unto himself. This was undoubtedly the most alluringly beautiful woman he'd ever met.

His mouth ran dry and he lost his usually ever present wit. Leaving him a fool. After several moments of silence he tore his gaze from her and looked to find Islanzadi waiting for some sort of answer with a slight smile on her face. He realized that she had asked him a question and for lack of an excuse he cleared his throat.

"I'm sorry what did you say?"

Islanzadi gave him a sly look before standing.

"I asked if you would sit and said that my daughter Arya would explain to you exactly why you are here."

Eragon grinned, trying to make up for his fumble of class.

"Of course."

He took a seat, wishing that his heart would stop it's erratic pace.