Disclamer: I do not own any of the characters except Andria and Wydra. Nothing else belongs to me, other then the plot. I give all thanks to Christopher Paolini for writing Eragon so I and many others could fanfic about it!

Okay, some of you guys don't know what the color coral looks like, the color of Wydra's scales. Here is a link to something the exact color I had described, I hope it helps! a couple thought Andria one) was a mary-sue ish name. Or two) thought she was mary-sue ish due to her looks. Well, Andria is the ending of my own name, Alexandria. I though Andria was a very common name, and thought I would like to add a little of myself to the story, but I can see how the odd spelling of the normal Andrea could come off a little mary-sue. Also, I don't want to be mean or sound rude, but I am not one to like when people judge a character before she gets a personality or even a story. I can see how a beautiful girl could be thought of as mary-sue, as many people we see on the street we think of as "mary-sue" when they're too pretty. I just hope you all can see past looks, and look into the heart of this character.

Thank you all for replying, and I hope you continue to read. I'm so happy for your feedback and criticism, and I hope you keep it coming!

Lying on the hard ground beneath the stars, Murtagh stared up at the twinkling lights surreptitiously while listening to the breathing around him. Wydra, the new found dragon that has made his path more bright, laid a few feet away from him next to the warm fire. The flames flickered off her almost pink-ish scales as she lay with wings covering her Rider. That Rider was the one person that had made Murtagh smile since he was taken to Galbatorix. True, he wasn't really a person to smile and be happy to begin with, but the sheer thought of not having to sit in the direct path his corrupted father took made him ease up a little.

Andria, the oddly bred girl, lay within the warm confines of her dragon's wings. To most, she seemed an odd kind of beautiful on the outside. The features of an elf stretched across her body, but with hints of a human making her seem more approachable. She was quite disliked when she was "home" with the elves, none of them really accepting her for who she truly was. Part of it was the fact that she couldn't seem to stay on her own two feet most of the time on a flat surface. Another major part was that her freckles made her stick out like a sore thumb, brandishing her looks. No one really ever got to know her, just accepting her as another pretty face in the crowd, thinking she's just another privileged girl who's as shallow as the next. But why does everyone seem to judge skin-deep?

Letting out a small moan, Murtagh rolled on his side to stare into the flames and let his mind wander. Sleep never came to him naturally in his life, thinking always taking up his nights until he passed out from exhaustion. Tonight the topic was this girl, well, this half girl. He knew she was beautiful, that was plain to him as it surely was to anyone who set eyes on her. But she wasn't that natural sort of beauty, the one where people roll their eyes and say she got lucky with her looks. She was that kind of beautiful that was only brought on because she was something new to look at. A challenge to conquer, and it intrigued him to no end to know what lay beneath the pretty features of her skin.

Picking at his fingernails, he wondered if she could possibly turn into an ugly witch in the morning light and take him straight back to the kingdom. Or maybe she'd be just as nice looking, but really something awful in personality. He really wasn't one to like snooty people, or even tolerate them. Murtagh knew well enough that he wasn't someone to easily get along with. He stayed inside himself a lot, thinking about his past and his future. Nothing ever seemed clear to him, not even what had already come to past.

Eyelids fluttering shut, he listened to the deep even breathing of Wydra and drifted off to sleep.

-----

"Murtagh." He heard a soft voice coming from somewhere; his mind still clouded with sleep. Trying to open his eyes, he raised an arm to block out the sunlight that was beaming down at him.

"Murtagh, it's time to get up," the soft female voice came again, making him drop his arm to see Andria crouching next to him. Her hair was still wild from sleep, sticks and mud sticking to the brown tendrils. She looked quite a mess, almost as if she had fallen and rolled down a hill in the woods.

"I'm up, don't worry. Did you sleep well, or did the forest attack you?" He said snidely, hating mornings more then anything. She huffed at him quickly, eyeing him still warily before walking back to Wydra. Murtagh knew well enough she wasn't just going to trust him. Just because he had a scar on his hand and a dragon in the sky, it meant nothing to a stranger who was looking to stay out of trouble. Trust was something that isn't just handed out to anyone.

"If you even care, this is what most women look like after they wake up on the forest floor. I'm no exception. I don't have magical powers to create instant beauty like some elves do." She rolled her eyes as she packed her things, grabbing twigs from her hair and pulling it up with a leather band.

"That's too bad, you could use some of that right now," he smirked, grabbing his bag and cloak from the edge of the woods. Andria blushed a bright pink, muttering under her breath as she tied her hair into a tight bundle at the nape of her neck.

"I'm not trying to impress anyone, so I think I'm okay. Thank you for your crude opinion at this lovely hour," he noticed she didn't really seem like a morning person. Inwardly laughing, he walked over and stroked Wydra's nuzzle. Feeling the vibrations coming off of her, he knew the dragon was laughing.

Without anymore talk of nonsense, he started leading the way into the woods. Andria was slow to catch up, probably starting in a different direction before noticing he went another way. Wydra was in the air somewhere, enjoying the morning warmth against her cool scales. Hearing something that sounded like a moan of pain, he turned to see his new found Rider on her knees in the mud.

"I never would have believed girls could like mud so much," he said, a little to bitterly as he kept walking. Not allowing her to waste any of his precious time, he kept stalking through trees. She caught up with him in a matter of seconds, throwing a bit of mud at his cheek.

"We don't. We also don't like self-absorbed men who think they're too good to help one up when they fall. Sorry to be such a bother but weren't you looking for me? And now you're dragging me off to who knows where and I'm just following because my father always told me to trust a Rider who showed his scar. Now, tell me Murtagh, what exactly have I done wrong this morning other then be myself? I apologize that I have two left feet," she seemed upset, anger blotching her cheeks red as she kept walking briskly next to him. Her emerald eyes stayed forward, the green seemed to darken and cloud as if she were lost in some memory.

"You haven't done anything wrong. Just try not to fall so much, I won't risk anything if you fall in a hole," she shook her head and walked in front of him a few meters, mumbling under her breath. Well, so much for being pleasant friends.

They continued walking, Murtagh listening for the sound of a stream. Thorn had talked to him late last night, saying there was a place they could take refuge until after forging a plan. They knew very well that no Urgals or Galbatorix would start looking for them until after a week was up. They were fortunate to have so much time.

-----

Leather boots slid into the wet mud of the early afternoon, making it harder to navigate their way around. His companion fell more then a few times, covered in mud even before they had been travelling an hour. Murtagh soon realized his hands were full, hope of this creature being perfect and simple were to much of a wish. He got stuck with a klutz who probably could only fight her way out of a pack of Urgals with a pretty bat of the eyelashes. How fantastic.

Soon hearing the light water trickle nearby, he made sure he was taking the right path before leading Andria towards it. Thorn was already waiting, supposedly with lunch as well. Leading the way towards the water, he looked over to see the girl's eyes still off somewhere he obviously wasn't welcome in.

"My dragon will meet us there. He says he's brought meat along," he tried to sound a little nicer then he had earlier in the day, but the annoyance of Andria being a girl instead of a man was in the back of his mind.

"Well, I don't eat meat, but I'll be sure to thank him." She walked ahead of him again, walking through some tall ferns before disappearing into the large valley. As he came through the green canopy, he noticed it was just the perfect size to hide two dragons and their Riders. Thorn had not let them down.

So, this is the Rider then. Odd that it's a girl, isn't it? Thorn questioned, eyeing Andria as she set her bags down and wandered closer to him.

And one with quite a temper at that. Oh, she also can't stand up for more then five minutes before falling down, so we'll have to watch her. Gods knows how she'll learn how to ride Wydra, he said back, eyeing the girl as she introduced herself to Thorn.

Wydra, is what? A male or a female? Thorn was asking Andria that question, but included his Rider in the chat.

A female, good dragon. She's quite strong for her size, and she won't put up with any bullying. I do hope you're nicer then your Rider. You are a lovely creature, Murtagh growled in the back of his throat, hearing Thorn chuckle a little to his demise.

He knew well enough that he wasn't the greatest man in the world. There were probably thousands of people better at conversation then him, easily. That gave her no right to just go judging him before he even got a chance to make an impression.

"I do hope you ease up to as our journey goes on. I don't think I can deal with anymore of your girlish mood swings," he snapped, his eyes turning dark as they stared into hers.

"Oh, an eavesdropper. How lovely, well I do hope you plan to get us out of this hole before the Empire comes looking for their most loved servant. I wouldn't try to hide much from me, Rider. I have more knowledge then you know," she looked like she was going to cry, but the emotion was easily placed by numbness as she grabbed her pack and walked off somewhere.

What? Did you think it was a good idea to tell her who we were? Murtagh screamed inwardly at his dragon, pacing now in the meadow.

I didn't tell her anything; she figured that out on her own somehow. Now, why don't you go find her and try to make amends? I'm going to talk to Wydra now, Thorn snorted, seeing the smaller dragon starting to descend towards the earth.

Walking through the large ivy that laid around them, he heard a faint splash and went in that direction. Both of his hands were balled in fists, trying to control anger and rage that was churning inside of him. About to start screaming as he saw the top of her head, he walked out to see her wrapped in her cloak as she washed her clothes. Seeing a deep scar across her shoulders, his hands relaxed a twinge as he came to her side.

"How did you know?" He managed to spit out, still angry at her for just rushing away from their conversation.

"You have Zar'oc, so you're either Eragon Shadeslayer, or you're not. And you're not. Wow, I am a good puzzle solver. It wasn't hard for me to know who you were when I saw you with Wydra. As soon as I laid eyes on the blood sword, I knew it had rightfully come back to the dark haired son of Morzan's. Poor Eragon never stood a chance with it anyway." Andria pulled out her wet leggings, shaking them before laying them over a tree branch. Her left hand never left it's death grip on the cloak that was acting as her only means of coverage.

"How do you know my swords name? How do you know about my family, and why would it matter to you?" He was mad, more then mad he was irate. He wanted to hit something, wondering how in the hell she learned so much information about him when most didn't even know it themselves.

"My father wrote me a lot when he traveled. Telling me about people he met, people he trained. Your name came up a little, and he knew who you were as soon as he saw you. How couldn't he? He was the one who killed your father," his teeth unclenched, his fists stopped throbbing, and he almost sunk to the ground on his knees.

"Your father was…"

"Yes, my father was Brom. I am terribly sorry that he had to die with you so nearby. Too bad for that poor man, I'm surprised he even trusted you. After your bastard of a father killed Saphira my father was lost, almost ready to off himself before he met my mother. The elven Goddess of savior, he always called her. Then they had me, as much as a surprise to anyone as well as themselves. It wasn't suppose to happen, it wasn't meant to be. But I was born, my mother dying at my birth, and I was left with letters and brief visits with the one person who didn't hate me. Oh yes Murtagh, I know your life is horrible in means I wouldn't understand. Though, you can't cloud others lives just because you think yours is worse." This time he could hear the crying in her voice.

He hadn't meant for it to go this far. He hadn't meant for her to even know any of this about himself. Now his life was open like a book, waiting for her to flip through and find out the secrets he never wanted anyone to know. And now she had opened hers to any questions he might have had. But at that moment he didn't have anything to say, he just ran back towards the small pond by the dragons and dove straight into the water before he passed out from something he only took as shock.