A/N; Whee! Yep, I guess I've kind of decided to add another chapter and see how this plays out. (:

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Riding upon his dragon's back, close to nothing escapes his line of vision. Through hazy clouds of smoke and equally thick clouds of screams, he determines that both armies are fighting desperately and ruthlessly. When a man falls, another immediately steps forward. If there is progress from either side, it is slight, for even he cannot truly tell how the tides of war will turn.

When he was younger, the prospect of battle always seemed exciting to him. He had dreamed of winning glory and respect beyond belief. Now, he snorts at his past ignorance, and he is amazed at how he could have entertained such thoughts for so long. They are the thoughts of a wishful thinker, and they will not come true.

Even now, however, he sometimes wonders at how he can redeem himself in the eyes of the Varden. He tries to vanquish these thoughts, as he knows that these are the thoughts of a very stupid, stupid boy—but somehow, someway, that elf rekindled these hopes and wishes of his again, and as he flies in to battle, he cannot think of anything else.

Get her off of your mind—at least during battle—for if you do not, I fear we will both perish because of it.

He knows that what his dragon says is true, yet he cannot help but feel slightly irritated. He knows that it is nothing personal, and that in general he cannot allow distractions to enter his mind while he fights—but she still remains caught up in his mind.

He looks to the battle—but he does not see. He hears the roars as the dragons collide—but he does not listen.

What is it about her? What is it?

Snapping out of his trance-like state for mere seconds, he looks up and meets the fierce gaze of the opponent. A dragon Rider. A highly skilled swordsman. A human transformed. A former friend.

At the thought of how his opponent used to be his companion, he can feel the bitterness of the situation. War changes people, he thinks dourly. It turns brother against brother, comrade against comrade.

Then, it crosses his mind that his opponent is very nearly the elf's lover.

Numerous feelings pass through him, and when he reaches out to identify one of them, he is surprised at what it is.

Jealousy.

He has known jealousy, and for it to come sneaking in to his emotions at this particular moment—it is surprising. He has no time to ponder about this, however, as the fight draws even closer to him. He knows that his dragon cannot fight the battle by himself; he has to help as well. No matter how cliché it may be, he knows that together, he and his dragon can conquer anything.

Then why can they together not get the damn elf's face and words out of his mind?

The two dragons fly past each other, so close that if he reaches out, he can almost touch the scales of the blue dragon. He finds the color relatively mesmerizing—but it cannot even hold a candle to the rich crimson of his own creature.

Land, he tells his dragon. He can sense the confusion his beast feels at this order, yet he finds that his dragon obediently follows his orders—though not without trying to convince him otherwise. The blue dragon and her Rider follow suit, and they all touch down at approximately the same time.

As he dismounts, he surveys the area, hoping to catch a glimpse of the elf's face. His hopes are answered, though when he catches sight of her, a strange trill causes a faint tremor in the depths of his heart. Her face, frozen in a deep sleep, is peaceful.

His eyes delicately trace the features of the elf's face, staring longingly at the eyelids closed over the almond-shaped jade eyes beneath, the high, exotic cheekbones forming the sharp angles of her face, and the full shape of her lips. He senses the other Rider's eyes following his gaze, and out of the corner of his eye, he sees the Rider stiffen.

A ghost of a smirk flickers at his lips as he approaches his opponent.