(A/N) Hello all. I've started to rework, rewrite, and, in my humble opinion, generally improve the story. Characters that felt stagnant will now have clear arcs and grow. You know when you look back at what you wrote years ago and can't stop cringing. Yeah. Hopefully you enjoy the new drafts. I will be uploading the updated chapters to Archive of our Own (AO3) under the author name Satres_Jedi until the story begins to mesh with the current story arc at which point I will replace the changed chapters here as well. I have also updated the tags to Hurt/Comfort instead of Adventure for obvious reasons.

For clarity: inner dialogue is italicized (i.e. How dumb does this author think we are to think we can't get this from context?)

Conversations that occur between characters in their minds will be in quotes and italicized. (i.e. "I know I can be self-depreciative," the author sighed.

"You should probably stop, because it's not great for your self image," the wholesome reader said supportingly.)

Obligatory Disclaimer: I do not own the Inheritance characters, world, and all the legal things you should say. The OC Azura is my own creation.

Chapter 1: Subjectivity and Reflection

Denethor looked upon Uru'Baen from a balcony in the Black Citadel. A dark plague had overtaken the once great city in the days since it was called Ilirea. Ancient, censored texts regarded the city as majestic and breath-taking. He asked Galbatorix once, but his reply was less than satisfactory. He said its beauty was miniscule compared to the updates he had ordered. Denethor scoffed. The city was plagued by greed, ignorance, and corruption. How could a city like this be beautiful?

"You cannot question its beauty little one; it is still the same city," a soft, low voice resonated throughout his head.

He inwardly sighed. "I know, but you cannot disagree that the dark nature of its inhabitants taint its majesty."

"Hmm…" the voice paused for a moment. "From a subjective viewpoint you may be right."

"Beauty is inherently subjective," Denethor rebutted.

"Perhaps," the subtle tones purred. "You know, I remember a time when you use to be in awe of the city. You even called it a wonder.

"Time changes all Saphira; I merely grew out of my childhood innocence."

"Alright Mister Mature, brood all you want," Saphira gave a stilted growl mimicking laughter. "I could sit here and talk about philosophy all night, but I am tired from my hunt. You should come with me next time."

Denethor smiled. "I did that once. I saw you eat an entire deer whole. I didn't speak for a week."

"You're just a wimp."

"I was 13. How the hell was I supposed to be prepared for that," He asked accusingly.

"That was the preparation," she huffed. "It's like learning to swim by jumping in the deep end."

"That's how people drown!"

"You don't see me complaining when you shovel that garbage you call food down your throat."

Denethor wrinkled his brow and rubbed it between his thumb and index finger. "We've been through this a thousand times. I take a vegetarian diet because I respect all life and it helps me become one with nature."

"And I've told YOU a thousand times dragons need meat!"

Denethor hung his head. "I know. I know. Let's just agree that we each have different dietary needs. Agreeable?"

"Whatever plant lover."

"Saphira…" Denethor warned.

"Agreed," Saphira acquiesced.

"Goodnight Saphira."

"Goodnight little one."

When he felt his mind was his own again he said to himself, she's like this every time.

"I heard that," Saphira chimed and his face grew crimson.

Putting their argument aside, he began to look out once more, and began to see the appeal. Sparkling spires of glass reflected the soft orange and purple hues of the sunset, casting murals of soft light across the city. With the days end people were wrapping up their day and filling the taverns to drink the night away or rushing home to be with their families. With the city beginning to still it gave off a serene vibe, calming and peaceful. Maybe this city wasn't so bad after all he thought with a smile on his face forgetting if only for a moment the stress and turmoil this life had brought upon him. With the sun beneath the horizon and the crescent moon looming he decided to head home.

As he walked in the door to their small castle his mother greeted him with a bear hug.

"Mother I'm a man. There is no need to worry if I am a little late coming home." He said gasping for air.

"You cannot tell a mother to forgo worrying for her child, so don't even try Eragon." She said. "Now come to the table Rose has already made dinner."

He wanted her to call him Denethor, but she had adamantly refused saying that she would call her "baby boy" whatever she wanted. There was no point in arguing with her, as she could be just as stubborn as Saphira could in these matters.

"I made it especially for you Lord Era-… I mean Denethor," Rose said with blushed cheeks almost forgetting his name change, "I know you prefer a vegetarian diet. It is a carrot, mushroom, lentil, and potato soup."

Rose always had been thoughtful towards him, ever since she had become their servant she had sought to accommodate his bizarre requests. He had always made sure to show his gratitude.

"Thank you Rose." He said gruffly before sitting down quickly and eating with the same swift pace.

"Why the rush sweetie? You act as if you haven't eaten in a week."

"I am just ready for bed is all, I have an arduous day tomorrow and I want to be well rested for it."

He finished his dinner and bolted to his room before his mother could bully him into staying and conversing with her. She had the unfortunate habit of doing that in the times he yearned for the peace and quiet of his room.

Lying in bed his mind began to wonder. His life had been changed so drastically over the course of just a few years. At the ripe young age of 12 Saphira had hatched for him and set his path in a complete 180 degree turn, setting in motion events that would forever shape the man he was. Galbatorix had taken him under his wing and trained him into the fierce rider he was today. Now nearly six years later he was no longer a child; how could he be. He was forced to grow up and shoulder responsibilities no teenager should ever have to. He was Galbatorix's second – in – command, seeing to it that those loyal to him stayed loyal by whatever means necessary. This had prompted his name change, he did not want the people he loved, however few they may be, to associate Eragon to the monstrous acts he had to perform. Or maybe he was hiding it from himself that it was he committing these villainous acts. It was times like these he wished for the simplicity a child's life held. No responsibilities, no dark acts, and definitely no worries.

He sighed and thought back to his childhood. As a child Denethor was lonely, lonely in the sense that he had no true friends. He had friends, but they more akin to acquaintances. He much preferred the company of his intelligent and beautiful mother Selena. He would help her with the household chores until she forced him to go play with the other children. At first he argued that she needed his help or that he felt ill, but he always lost and begrudgingly obliged. She argued that a healthy social life does wonders for the growing soul. After awhile he stopped fighting and simply gave in to her demands. Although he never enjoyed the company of the kids, he loved his mother and would do anything to please her.

He smiled as his thoughts drifted to his mother. She had been his rock during these tumultuous events, keeping him grounded when he felt helplessly lost. He dared not even think about would he would have done without her. Granted he had Saphira, but even she could not provide the motherly affection he required.

With that appeasing thought he drifted into a peaceful sleep, having pleasant dreams with fond memories of his mother allowing his subconscious a moments reprieve from the next days inevitable events.