I don't own the Inheritance cycle, and I don't think Christopher Paolini would ever give it up to anybody

I don't own the Inheritance cycle, and I don't think Christopher Paolini would ever give it up to anybody.

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The pouting almost-ten-year-old girl continued up the short flight of stairs to her room. She didn't want to go walk past those accursed dragon eggs, because she didn't want one to hatch for her. She didn't want to be like that traitor of trust, Galbatorix.

She threw open the door to her room, allowing it to hit the wall before slamming it shut again.

Why wasn't Galba back yet? He'd promised, even if he might have forgotten. He'd promised to come back and visit her!

She buried her face in her pillow, remembering her first and only magic. She now resented that stupid amulet, even as she put it on every morning. It made sure that, even if she wanted to forget, she couldn't. No magic held the memories there, but the simple reminder of his last smile as he stood after casting the enchantment with her haunted the thing.

"Sylvanna, I would suggest getting ready. We're leaving soon," her mother's voice called through the door. Sylvanna deemed herself to angry to answer, and thus stayed silent as her mother walked quietly back down the stairs.

But her voice wasn't unused for long. She began sobbing into her pillow, cursing even her own name for reminding her so vividly of the young man she almost considered her brother.

Grudgingly and slowly, she dragged herself over to her wardrobe. She pulled out a deep green dress and had begun to pull it over her head before she saw the tear in the fabric above the waist. Sighing, she replaced it it's place before dragging out a simple black leather tunic and matching pants.

Dressing slowly, she never removed the silver-and-sapphire amulet around her neck. When she had finished with the ties on the tunic, she began combing her ear-length black hair to make it seem more refined-looking, but when she looked in the mirror she discovered that she still looked a lot like a little boy. The lack of a feminine face had never really bothered her, but her outfit had completed the guyish look irritatingly well. In an attempt to be recognizable as a girl, she inserted the silver hoops she sometimes wore to annoy her friends. Every single one of them had practically begged to be allowed to parade past the dragon eggs each year, wishing to be just like their wonderful parents that always helped them with magic.

Sylvanna had no desire anymore to perform magic. It was pointless and rid one of the satisfactions of accomplishing something with your own two hands.

"Sylvanna, come down now! It's time to leave!" her father called from the base of the stairs. For the millionth time since she had first noticed it, Sylvanna marveled at the gravely human quality of his coarse voice. Forgetting momentarily her anger ant being forced to go, she ran down the stairs and into the arms of her father.

"You were angry about this just a few minutes ago, why so eager now?" he asked playfully, before he noticed her apparel. "Sometimes I wonder if I'm raising a girl or a boy," he sighed as he looked skeptically at the earrings.

She quickly rearranged her face back into a scowl.

"I still don't want to go, but I wanted a hug."

He laughed a little before releasing her and turning to the door leading outside.

"Your ma and I'll be coming back here to meet a rider for her training, so you'll be alone while you're there. Are you okay with that?" he told her as they walked outside.

"Yeah, I'll be fine." What she meant was 'yeah, I'll make sure not to get into trouble'.

They walked in silence until the short row of eggs and children was visible. At that point, her father turned back and told her to 'be a good girl, now'.

She sullenly crossed the remaining space and was immediately accosted by the only other children anywhere near her age, Arnel, Cynthya, and Ecorlo.

"What took you so long, Sylvanna? It's almost time!" Cynthya asked the moment she was within hearing distance. Sylvanna shrugged in response, and Arnel noticed her earrings.

"You really shouldn't wear those, Sylvanna. Your ears could become infected and they're unsightly."

Ever the annoying pompous little brat, Arnel's holier-than-thou attitude was as irritating as ever. The worst thing was, he managed to make her feel like a five year old, even though he was nearly four years younger than her.

Ecorlo said nothing, as usual. He wasn't mute, but a brief encounter with him might lead you to think such. Ecorlo was, by far, the most tolerable of the threesome she tentatively called friends, though she wouldn't trust any one of them to run errands for the simplest scullery maid for fear they would get sidetracked.

"Come on, lets go see if an egg will hatch for us!" Cynthya said excitedly, running even as she shouted this back at them.

Arnel ran to catch up to the girl, but Ecorlo and Sylvanna proceeded slower, taking their time. Consequently, they arrived at the table supporting the eggs nearly a minute after the others.

"You two are always slow," Cynthya commented before turning back to the table.

Taking their places in front of the only two remaining eggs, Sylvanna and Ecorlo both smirked a bit at the excited faces of every other child there. A grand total of five, mind you.

They stood in front of each egg for fifteen minutes before changing to another one. On the third rotation, the egg in front of Ecorlo cracked about ten minutes in.

"Wow, it's purple!"

"How pretty!"

Everyone's cries of delight were drowned out when the baby dragon wailed for food. Ecorlo pulled a piece of jerky out of his pouch and offered it to the creature, mindful of its sharp teeth. His eyes widened for a moment as its muzzle connected with his palm, but quickly returned too normal.

"I'll wait until the rest of you are done," he said quietly, picking up the vibrantly hued dragon in his arms and moving off a few feet.

They rotated again, bringing Sylvanna to stand in front of the strangest egg there. The shell was leathery, rather than hard, and it was a boring navy blue. Standing there, she studied it closely enough to see the underlying brown veins in the surface and the tiny folds in the soft shell. Minutes passed with no change, but right as the final rotation was about to begin, the surface ripped open, revealing an equally strange dragon. Not a single scale clothed it's deep blue body, and when it opened its eyes she saw neither pupil nor iris, but blank, scarred white.

She gasped slightly. She hadn't wanted a dragon to hatch for her, but this one was positively fascinating. It stood shakily, spreading its wings just the tiniest bit.

The others were staring at the deformed dragon, wondering how it got to be that way. Every single one of them had noticed the difference in the egg, but hadn't realized that it would affect the dragon itself.

"How strange that dragon is," Arnel commented dryly, raising an eyebrow at the jagged membrane in-between each rib of the wings. Sylvanna glared at him for the comment, and nobody said anything after that.

She attempted to pick it up gently, but it jumped and landed on her shoulder, brushing her neck with the tip of its wing. Shockwaves wrenched themselves through her body, ridding her of every sense.

Sylvanna collapsed to the floor, unconscious. The strange dragon prodded her gently, wondering what it had done wrong.

--

There you have it, the second chapter. Please forgive me for taking so long to update, those of you who read the first chapter when it went up. I'll try to update at least once a week, but it might be slower than that due to school. In case any of you are wondering, yes, this story will eventually reach the actual time period that Eragon is set in, but it might take several chapters due to my complete and turough writers block at the moment. I hope to see you next time with chapter 3: Knurlarn.