Natia rubbed her hands together as she approached Akasha, now wearing her finely made leather saddle. The dragon dropped to her belly, bending a leg so Natia could use it to climb aboard. She took her seat and used the leather straps to wrap around her legs, tying her in place. Akasha stood up, making her rider clench her legs in surprise.

Relax.

Easy for you to say. You've done this before.

Akasha merely chuckled. Natia could feel her amusement and excitement as though it were own. Today was a very special day. The first flight. A task that would seal them together as rider and dragon. Natia took a deep breath, steeling her nerves.

Ready?

Natia nodded. "Bring it." Akasha unfurled her wings with a flourish and brought them down with a thunderous rush of wind, launching them into the sky. The wind tried to rip her from the saddle as Akasha climbed into the clouds and carried them high above Aberon. The worries and fear dissipated in an instant, replaced by the purest sense of joy Natia had ever felt in her life. She felt weightless, like she was floating in the heavens. She could touch the sun if she wanted.

Let us try diving. Akasha roared to get her attention.

Natia grinned. After you.

Akasha tucked in her wings and let them fall. Natia leaned forward and grabbed onto the horn of the saddle as they fell from the sky, picking up speed every passing moment, the ground rushing to meet them. At the last moment, Akasha threw open her wings, stopping their descent and spiriting them over the city.

This is amazing!

My dear, it's only the beginning of what we can do.

Akasha spun, rolling through the air, diving and climbing. There was truly no greater experience ever felt that could compare to this. Alagaesia no longer seemed as large on dragonback. She returned to Aberon to gather her soldiers and send them to Cithri, as it was a larger city and a very important one in the history of Alagaesia. It took barely a day to reach Dauth and confirm the rebellion was successful. The situation in Cithri was not as well off.

Circling above the city, she found it drowned in chaos and death. The bodies of slaves, men, women and children coated the streets. The soldiers in the city had slaughtered them all. Akasha landed outside its gates and Natia dismounted. The archers on the walls drew their bows and nocked their arrows.

"Who leads you?!" She demanded. A rage like no longer burned in her veins. Her body trembled as she walked forward, stopping just outside of range of the archers. The gates opened and a single woman stepped forward, garbed in thick steel that glistened in the light. A woman. Hmm, that was new. "You are their leader? You are the one who ordered the murder of all of these people?"

The woman threw back her head, letting a deep laugh burst out of her throat. "They screamed your name as they died. Their blood is on your hands, Dragonheart."

I will burn them all.

Natia, you said so yourself that Cithri is too important a city to lose. We cannot destroy it.

We won't. Just everyone within it. Natia blinked, feeling the fire behind her eyes, turning them gold. The dragon that slept in her started to stir and the sensation of that night when the Raz'ac visited her came back full force.

Stop fighting it! You cannot command a dragon. Dragons are meant to be free.

"What is your name?" Natia asked the leader.

"Commander Tagara."

"Tagara, you will be the first to die." She inhaled and let out a burst of fire. The armor that was supposed to protect Commander Tagara only succeeded in cooking her even quicker. The smell of seared flesh and the cries of the burning woman filled the air, causing the soldiers on the gates to quake at the sight of a fire breathing woman. Akasha blasted through the front gates before taking to the skies. She maneuvered swiftly to avoid the barrage of arrows that attempted to cut her down, and set fire along the wall, burning the archers and reducing man and weapon to ash. Natia drew her sword and walked through the gates. She was met with a wall of shields and spears, but there was no fear within her. No, monsters were meant slain. Any man that could kill an unarmed person, an innocent person, a child...they were monsters. Monsters deserved to be slain. "Jierda!" The shields broke, the spears splintered and fire turned the rest to ash. Cithri was drenched in a firestorm as Akasha passed by again, burning more men. Natia allow the flames to wash over her as she waded into battle, slicing through the breaking soldiers. Hundreds tried to flee, but there was nowhere they could go where fire would not follow. From these flames….appeared a man.

Natia paused when she saw him for she could feel the power radiating off of him, like a cloak resting on his shoulders. He was robed in black and gold, a matching cape trailing in the dust as he walked around her. She turned with him, looking into his eyes and finding something dark and dangerous lurking within. "Who are you?" She asked. The man stopped, folding his arms behind his back, letting his long ebony locks play in the breeze. Behind him raged a field of dragon fire. It was not a very reassuring sight for the young dragon rider. Akasha landed behind her rider and roared, electrifying the air with the sound of her voice.

The man looked up at her and smiled. "I once had a dragon who died. She was purple too."

"Jarnunvösk." Her eyes narrowed as it started to click. This man could only be one man. A man who lost his dragon and continued to live with the unrelenting pain of a connection torn. "You're Galbatorix."

"I am. You know your history."

"Anyone who can read knows about the traitor who turned on his own order."

Galbatorix smirked, laughing heartily. "Brave little girl." He tilted his head, his piercing eyes roaming over her form in a seemingly curious fashion. "What are you?"

"Not a little girl." She replied.

"Clearly." He looked around. "You and your little dragon did all of this. Not to mention what you've done with Orrin's kingdom."

"Orrin doesn't seem to have a kingdom anymore."

"No, he does not. Despite how troublesome you are, I am intrigued." His eyes took on a dark light as he drew his sword, a purple rider's blade, and threw it to her, before drawing out a black one. "Prepare yourself."

"I'm not going to fight you." There was no way she would win. Akasha was poised to grab her and take flight but she had a feeling Galbatorix was aware of this already. He had enough power to shoot her dragon down and that was the last thing she wanted. Akasha, stand down. The purple dragoness backed away, but remained crouched to intervene on her rider's behalf. Natia walked forward. "You have a distinct advantage in power and experience, your lordship."

"Majesty." The king corrected her.

"You're not my king." She retorted. He attacked without warning. An explosion of magic sent her flying backwards, crashing into a wall. The air rushed out of her lungs and she crumpled to her hands and knees.

He didn't say a word. How can he use magic without speaking the Ancient Language?

We need to run. Akasha roared at the king and dove in between him and her rider.

Galbatorix only smiled. "Who is your mother, Natia?"

Natia raised her head. "How do you know my name?"

"Who is your mother?" He repeated. Akasha growled at him. He didn't move, didn't utter a word as a pair of spears from the ground and struck Akasha in the side of her neck. Natia clutched the side of her own neck as Akasha howled in pain. "Who is your mother?!" Galbatorix roared.

"My mother was Neilae!" She hissed.

"Is." He corrected as her vision started to fade.

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

When Natia opened her eyes, all she could see was fire. The brightness stung and she scrambled to get away from it, finding that her arms were encased in fur. She was wrapped in some kind of pelt. The stench was rather powerful and...distasteful.

Akasha? Akasha?!

I am here, Little One. No need to shout.

Are you you alright?

I am now. I thank your Aunt and Murtagh for wrapping my wounds.

Thank the gods. I thought you had died.

Nonsense.

A heavy piece of fur landed on Natia's head, forcing her to sit up. "Ow!"

"What were you thinking?!" Angela demanded. "Protect your dragon, at all costs!"

Murtagh moved forward to unwrap her, revealing the bandages around her torso. "You were foolish, albeit successful." He said softly. He glanced up at Akasha, curling into a tight ball next to their camp. "You do know that in war, many lives are lost. Innocent lives. People die, slaves die, farmers die. Your life and your dragon's life is greater than all of these. We need you to remain alive."

"Remain alive for what?" She scoffed. "To fight the king? You should have arrived earlier. You could have said hello."

"Galbatorix was here?!" Angela was by her side in an instant. Natia nodded, recounting the recent encounter.

"He hurt Akasha. He will die." Natia scowled, reaching out to touch her dragon. Akasha purred in response.

Murtagh stepped back and presented her with the purple sword Galbatorix had left. "He must have left this for you. It's a rider's sword. Smaller than I think of him using."

Natia took the sword and tossed it to the side, running her hands down her face. "He could have killed us both." She looked up at Angela. "And my mother. He said she was alive. How would he know about my mother?"

"No one knows what happened to your mother." Angela replied. "But I do know that you must leave. Immediately. Go to the elves, as we planned. Get as far away from Uru'baen as possible."

"And my people?"

"3,000 men are stationed in Cithri. Bjorn will remain in Aberon." Murtagh said.

Natia sighed, laying back down. She had no choice now. She lay awake for quite some time that night, listening to the sounds of the nocturnal world in the thin forest and Akasha's soft snoring. "Why are we not in the city?" She asked.

"Why are you not asleep?" Murtagh replied from his bedroll nearby. The fire had long since died down, letting the darkness seep in. It was soothing in a way. The past day had been seared with fire. The night brought it a cool breeze that chased away thoughts of the mad king and her mother. Perhaps he had her imprisoned. He was toying with her. "Stop thinking. I can hear you from here."

"With such large ears, it should be possible." She retorted. Murtagh snorted. "How did you get your scar?"

"What scar?"

"The pretty one on your side that you try so hard to hide."

"How did you get a dragon?"

"You first."

Murtagh sighed. "Alright. My father...threw a sword at me. He was drunk, and he always got violent when he drank."

"My father planned to sell me to some noble's son and sell my dragon to the king." Natia looked over at Akasha, slumbering away. "Akasha's mother gave her to me."

"Her mother?" Murtagh sat up, making her flinch as he was suddenly in front of her. "You met a wild dragon? And it could speak?"

"She. And yes. I saved her, but she succumbed to her wounds. All that is left of her is Akasha. There are no more dragons besides those Galbatorix possesses." She arched an eyebrow. "You want to be a dragon rider?"

"I was always fascinated with them. Originally, I was going to help the other rider make it to the Varden."

"And?"
"He was a month's ride away. You were a week." He laughed.

She sat up. "May I see it? The scar."

"Clearly you already have." He met her eyes in the darkness and slowly turned, allowing her to see the jagged scar marring his strong body, stretching the length of his side. "It's not quite as fantastic as a dragon."

Natia glanced up at his eyes. "I thought all warriors wore their scars with honor. They survived what tried to kill them. Your father could not kill you, he merely made you stronger."

"Yours turned you into a conqueror." He replied.

"No, I prefer...liberator."

"Of course you do." He muttered. "Forgive me, that is no way to speak to the Queen of Surda." Natia rolled her eyes and pushed him over.

"I'm not a queen."

Akasha groaned, drawing their attention. Please go a safe distance away before you mate.

I don't want to mate with him! Natia snapped. "Good night, Murtagh. I need my sleep." She glared at the dragon as Murtagh returned to his bedroll. You and I need to have a talk, Akasha.

Nonsense.

Natia glared at her again and turned to the fire. "Brisingr." The embers roared to life, shining off the purple sword near her. She picked it up and examined the smooth metal, the intricate weapon crafted from the most exquisite blacksmiths. This was a Dragon Rider's sword. She wondered what its name was. Whoever it was before, it was hers now. "Istaril." Flames sprouted from the blade, tracing the length of the metal. Istaril. She went to sleep with the blade clutched close to her breast. This gift from Galbatorix would be his undoing.

/

Natia opened her eyes, looking around at the picturesque forest surrounding her. Everything was so green, so alive. She spun in a circle trying to take it all in and hopefully get her bearings. "Hello?"

"Don't speak." The vision around her spasmed, like the entire world was cracking. She turned to face where the voice was coming from. A lone woman stood there, robed in white. Beautiful beyond measure, eyes as dark as coal and luxurious dark hair so long it nearly reached her knees. "Don't speak." She warned again. "Showing you this over such a vast distance is draining on my abilities."

"Mother?" Her voice cracked the mirage of this perfect world again, revealing behind it a black city, a burned forest.

Neilae nodded. "Listen to me, dear. I know where you are. I know-"

"Galbatorix said you were alive."

"Don't-" Neilae frowned, taking a step back. "You met him?"

"Yeah and he didn't kill me. He knew you were alive. What is going on?!" The world around shrivelled into nothing. She felt her eyes glow, the dragon beneath her skin surging to the surface.

"What-what have you become?" Neilae asked, looking at her daughter with new eyes. Eyes that couldn't believe what they were seeing.

"How can I find you?" Natia demanded.

"I have been imprisoned. In Gil'ead. I will be executed in 7 days."

"Then we're wasting time. I will be there in 6." Natia opened her eyes again, finding herself back in the camp, dawn only just beginning to crest the horizon. She got to her feet, wincing as she aggravated her back. It still continued to sting as she wrapped up her bedroll. She shoved her supplies into Akasha's saddlebags, waking the dragon, as well as Murtagh. She glanced around her, again wondering why they were just outside the city. She needed a horse. Akasha would draw too much attention. She slipped into her boots and strapped Istaril to her waist.

"Where are you going?" Murtagh asked.

"I'm going to rescue my mother. She's in Gil'ead."

"Gil'ead is also in the opposite direction in which you need to go. What happened to going to the elves?"

"The elves aren't going anywhere. They haven't left their forest fortress in decades. My mother is going to be executed in 7 days. I need to be there before then."

"What is so important about your mother?"

"I'm going to find out." Natia finished packing and made her way to the city gates. They were currently being repaired and the men working on construction gave her a respectful bow as she passed. She would have corrected them were she not in a hurry. She grabbed the nearest black stallion and mounted up, riding swiftly back to camp to find Murtagh already waiting on the back of his own stallion, Tornac. "You're not coming with me, Murtagh."

"Oh, but I am. Angela gave me the task of making sure you didn't do anything stupid." He replied. "Again."

"You have your work cut out for you." She smirked. Akasha came forward to give her a parting nudge with her nose. Stay here and rest as long as you can. Fly to Gil'ead in at least 2 days. Contact me when you are close.

Of course. Be safe.

Be careful.

You be careful. Akasha glanced at Murtagh. Tell him as well. He will most likely die first.

Natia smiled. "I'll see you soon."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

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