Wow. I can't believe I'm actually uploading another chapter of this story. After four years of waiting, here it is. I feel the need to apologize for the horrendous delay. I know a lot of you have been waiting since 2013 when I first published this story. I was a senior in high school back then, and I'm a senior in college now. It's crazy, but hopefully my writing skills have improved a bit. This chapter is quite a bit longer than the others so I hope you enjoy it. Honestly, your reviews are what brought me back to this story. They are such a huge motivator for me, so the best way you can show your support, if you would like me to continue this, is to leave me a review letting me know. I really appreciate it. As always, constructive criticism is not only appreciated, but wanted. So read on and enjoy!

Revelation and Condemnation

Eragon awoke from a restless slumber, his sheets pushed off the end of his bed, and his muscles aching and stiff. He glanced around, confused for a moment before he recalled where he was. A fresh surge of anger and despair froze him in place. Staring at the stone ceiling with half-lidded eyes, he let his mind wander and mull over the events of yesterday and the situation he had gotten himself into. He could feel the fog of darkness and depression begin to color his thoughts; a tightness creeping its way into the pit of his stomach and throat.

You're a failure. All the sacrifices that were made and all the lives that were given for this cause were in vain. And it's your fault. You're his slave now, and everyone you love will d-.

Eragon sat up abruptly, stopping himself before he could fall too deep into his own madness. He longed to hear Saphira's thoughts again. He needed it. Without her calming presence and gentle comforts, it was all too easy to get carried away in his ruminations.

A cold draft wafted around the room, chilling his bare chest and forcing him to get up and find something to cover himself with. It was difficult to tell how long he'd been sleeping or what time it was, due to the absence of windows in his room, but his general lack of fatigue told him he'd slept long enough.

Eragon put on his old armor as he hadn't been given anything else to wear, and donned the Belt of Beloth the Wise and Aren. He noticed he was now able to tap into his energy sources both within himself and his belt and ring, although he knew Galbatorix had bound him from using magic in any ways he wouldn't permit. It wouldn't be much help to him in an escape unless he could find some sort of loophole.

Stepping outside of his quarters, Eragon was greeted by a graying man in simple but well-made clothing. The man looked him over curiously and took a bow, "Milord. I am Haytham and I will be escorting you to the king's dining chamber. If you will follow me." Eragon nodded and Haytham led them through several dark, yet spacious, corridors until they came upon an unmarked door, blocked by two guards. Haytham turned to Eragon, and his brow furrowed for a moment, revealing some indecipherable emotion, "His Majesty will be just inside." He then gave a pointed look to the guards and left without another word, giving Eragon the impression that he held some sort of authority over them. The left-most guard, in turn, opened the door for Eragon as he stepped inside.

The room was quite spacious; big enough for many large dragons to lounge comfortably by the side of the long black dining table. A fire crackled quietly behind the head of the table, at the back of the room where Galbatorix was seated. He was reclined in a tall, pointed chair at the end of the luxurious table, outfitted in silk and speaking softly to Murtagh, who was seated at his right. Thorn's head lifted from where it was resting on the floor, looking Eragon over expectantly.

Galbatorix halted mid-sentence when Eragon stepped forward, his black eyes boring into him with an unusual intensity. His expression changed quickly, though, as a smile spread across his face and he lifted a black-gloved hand out to Eragon.

"Welcome, Eragon." His rich cadence softly echoed from across the room. Though he looked no older than forty years, there was a certain warmth and gravel to his voice that bespoke his advanced age. The sound reminded him of Brom, and the comparison revolted Eragon as soon as it passed his thoughts.

"Come. Sit beside me. We have much to speak of." Eragon cautiously moved forward, taking a seat at Galbatorix's left side, across from Murtagh. Looking up at his half-brother, he noticed the smug expression he'd had the day before was long gone. Instead, his lips were tight and his sweat-covered brows came together in concern. It was difficult to tell what was going through Murtagh's mind, but his change in demeanor put Eragon on the alert.

"First and foremost," Galbatorix started, "I want to be sure you are doing well, Eragon." His voice produced a strong and unnatural calming effect, almost as if his very voice was imbued with magic. "Your well-being is important to me. Being away from Saphira must be pushing you to madness." Eragon grit his teeth as Saphira's name left the king's foul and deceptive lips. Galbatorix waited in silence, but Eragon made no move to respond.

Unfazed, Galbatorix turned to Murtagh, giving him a small nod. Murtagh got up from his seat and turned around to the massive door behind him. Pulling with his unnatural strength, he opened the doors to reveal a chained and shackled Saphira, slumped over with fatigue. Rage overcame Eragon.

"Saphira!" Eragon jumped from his seat with such force he knocked the chair backward and could hear something shatter behind him.

"Stop." Galbatorix commanded, compelling Eragon with his True Name. He had no choice but to freeze in place, fuming with anger and concern for his dragon.

Saphira… Eragon called to her again with his mind, hoping to feel the comfort of her consciousness.

I am sorry, little one. Saphira finally looked up at him wearily. I came to find you. I had to be sure you were safe.

"I'm sorry it had to come to this Eragon, truly. I would love nothing more than for you two to be together again." Galbatorix said with mock regret, pulling Eragon's mind away from Saphira's. Eragon glanced at Galbatorix with apprehension and desperation.

"You wouldn't dare hurt her!" Eragon shouted at the king, but he was beginning to panic. Murtagh shifted his weight uncomfortably at the door.

"Hurt her? No, no, no, Eragon. She need only swear fealty to me." A sinister grin spread across Galbatorix's face.

"Saphira would never." Eragon said forcefully, though glancing over at Saphira, she didn't look so assured. Saphira, don't. Eragon pleaded. Saphira looked away, blinking slowly.

"Would she not?" Galbatorix queried. "Saphira, what say you?" He asked, directing his attention toward the adjacent room. Saphira remained unchanged. She could have been a statue. "Perhaps you need a little incentive. If you do not swear fealty to me, you will remain in that room indefinitely. You will be fed, you will be cared for, and you will mother new eggs, but never again will you see or speak to your Rider. Do not let your pride addle your mind, Saphira. Swear yourself to me, and all of this will be over."

Eragon hated himself for putting Saphira in this position, for he knew she could never leave his side. He couldn't argue with her. He wouldn't be able to live without her himself.

Saphira didn't spend long thinking about it. I will do it. She stated solemnly. Eragon hung his head in guilt and frustration, pressing his fists against his forehead and up into his hairline. He couldn't be frustrated with Saphira. Only their situation. They no longer had any hope for the future.

I'm so sorry I did this to us Saphira. I never should have sent you away. I never should have gone off on my own. It was selfish and reckless. Eragon looked at Saphira with an intensity he hoped would pull Saphira from her catatonia. And it did; Saphira lifted her head up, her glassy blue eyes peering into his darker ones. Eragon saw a mix of anguish and determination in her eyes that only bothered him further.

Where you go, I go, little one. Do not blame yourself. Eragon did not feel anger in Saphira's mind. Only a compassion he didn't deserve. Galbatorix had a large grin across his face as he listened in on their conversation. Eragon was unable to protect his mind from Galbatorix due to his oaths. This vulnerability would make speaking privately with Saphira difficult. There would be no secrets in Galbatorix's presence.

"It pleases me to hear this, Saphira. I understand you two do not appreciate what I am doing for you. But, in time, when you realize the future I have planned, I trust you will understand why I must do the things that I do." The king paused, scratching his pointed, black goatee speculatively. "Perhaps you will even grow fond of me." Eragon snorted in open contempt, but the king ignored him. "It is something to look forward to."

Galbatorix turned to Saphira then, "Let us proceed." And with that, Eragon watched as Galbatorix sifted through Saphira's mind, digging through every inconsequential memory, separating all her mundane activities, feelings, and beliefs, in an attempt to divine her true nature. Her True Name. It wouldn't take long Eragon knew, thinking back to his traumatizing encounter with the king's mind. He was skilled at this, having bound nearly all his prior vassals in this manner. After a few minutes, a light appeared in Galbatorix's eyes when he had pieced together her Name, proceeding then to bind Saphira with oath after oath to his will. Every passing minute, Eragon's hopelessness grew until, an hour later, Saphira had spoken the last of her oaths to the Black King.

A sickening sense of finality permeated the room. Eragon thought he might vomit as his throat began to tighten, heat blooming under his skin and sweat beading at his brow. At that moment Galbatorix released Eragon from the spell that kept him rooted in place, allowing him to place his clammy hands flat on the table to brace himself. Closing his eyes, Eragon heard the king snap his fingers and the sound of shuffling feet came up behind him.

"Sit down, Eragon. You must be overwhelmed." Galbatorix told Eragon, not unkindly. Eragon opened his eyes and glanced behind him, seeing that someone must have picked his chair back up behind him. Murtagh had also moved back to sit in his seat across from him. Eragon didn't want to give Galbatorix the satisfaction of obeying him, but the longer he stood, the more he felt he might faint.

Eragon sat in the chair and wrapped his arms around himself, leaning forward until his shoulders pressed against the edge of the table. His breathing was labored and a knot had formed in his stomach. He wanted nothing more than to lay his head on the table, but he knew he appeared weak enough already. Eragon sat up then, in an attempt to compose himself. He saw Murtagh watching him, his expression blank.

Galbatorix glanced over at Saphira and, without a word, her chains disintegrated to a pile of ash underneath her. Saphira glanced around herself, determining whether it was safe to move, then made her way into the dining room to sit beside Eragon. She looked into his eyes with concern and Eragon looked back at her.

Saphira-

I am here, Eragon. What's done is done. Do not dwell. She could feel his emotion and intentions and knew the guilt that was plaguing him. Her presence began to flood his mind with a warm blue light, pushing out his negative emotions and calming his racing thoughts and ruminations. Eragon gave her a small grateful smile and she blinked slowly back at him, darting her tongue out to lick the side of his arm.

"Rönoq," Galbatorix called out loudly, startling Eragon. "Bring them out now." A door behind Eragon opened and a procession of servants in white aprons filed in, each carrying in a platter of food or a pitcher. The smells gripped Eragon's stomach tightly, forcing him to take notice of his growing hunger. At the end of the line, six limp deer were carried in by their legs, three placed on the ground in front of Saphira, and three in front of Thorn.

An assortment of meats, cheeses, and berries rested on gold platters in front of the three men. A large boar, roasted in honey, spices, and herbs was placed in the center of the trio, with a large loaf of bread beside it. The only servant wearing a tall chef's hat stood with a pitcher, pouring a light amber mead into each of their goblets.

"A fine display," came the king's rich tones. "You may return, Rönoq." With that, the chef bowed and took his leave behind the other servants. Murtagh was already plating his portion of boar and cheese, Thorn ripping the intestines out of one of his deer. Eragon could not deny his appetite and began filling his plate with bread, cheese, and berries. Given the choice, he would refrain from eating the meat. Taking Eragon's cue, Saphira began to disembowel her deer. Starving themselves merely to spite the king would do them no good at this point.

"As much as it pleases me to see the two of you together," Galbatorix started as Eragon took his first few mouthfuls. "We have other business to discuss, and time is of the essence." Eragon's chewing slowed as his wariness grew. What could the king possibly want from him already? Murtagh didn't seem to notice Galbatorix speak.

"Surely, the Varden are in a panic, wondering where you are by now…" The king mused, taking a bite of the boar. The smell wafted over to Eragon, causing his stomach to churn. A drop of gold, liquefied fat slowly crept down Galbatorix's chin as he chewed, clogging the hairs of his goatee. The king rubbed his chin with the palm of his hand, oiling his beard. "You're probably wondering why I haven't given you any new garments or armor. I have not forgotten, I assure you, it is for good reason. I'm sending you back." Eragon dropped his fork in shock, as Saphira's head snapped up halfway through her second deer. Was he hearing him correctly? He wasn't sure, as Murtagh still seemed quite oblivious to the king's presence.

"I don't understand…" Eragon was still suspicious. He knew Galbatorix would never let him leave his command or fight for the Varden, which made him wonder what the king was up to.

"I'm sending you back to the Varden and you are to pretend like none of this ever happened." A smile was beginning to form on Galbatorix's lips as he took in Eragon's expression. "More accurately you are going to spy for me. Give me information on the movements of their military, the planning and strategies of their leaders. I want to know every move they make before they make it and every trick they may be hiding up their sleeve."

Eragon's brow furrowed in confusion. Surely the king had plenty of spies already. Why use a newly gained Rider for as simple a task as that?

I'm sure it is not so simple. Saphira's surmised.

"You're wondering why I'm not sending you and Murtagh out to obliterate the Varden and end this war once and for all, but I may still make use of them alive. See, I happen to be in possession of the last remaining dragon egg in Alagaësia," The king stated this with a nonchalance that surprised Eragon, considering the gravity of the statement. "And I'm ashamed to admit I've been having trouble getting it to hatch." Where was he going with this?

"You want to give the Varden the last egg?" Eragon asked in incredulity. Galbatorix paused for a moment before his booming laughter echoed off the walls of the dining chamber. Murtagh and Thorn glanced up from their meal momentarily, an odd expression in the Red Rider's eyes. Eragon rubbed the back of his neck in discomfort as Galbatorix's deep chuckling quieted.

"A fine sense of humor Eragon," Galbatorix's eyes still crinkled at the corners. "Though you're not far from the truth. In fact, I need you to lead the Varden in capturing Feinster, where the egg will be planted. When you are in possession of the egg, you are to monitor it and give me updates on its progress every week. I'm taking a risk here in the hope that this egg will finally hatch." Eragon was surprised the king would even consider letting the egg hatch for the Varden. "If the egg should hatch, you are to inform me immediately and bring the Rider and hatchling dragon to me at once."

This was a lot of information for Eragon to take in, but it made him somewhat hopeful. Perhaps, miles away from Urû'baen, they would have a better chance circumventing the king's oaths… or at least getting to someone who could stop them before they did anything they'd regret.

"Murtagh and Thorn will be taking the egg to Feinster within the hour. You and Saphira are to return tomorrow morning. We wouldn't want to tarry, lest they become too suspicious of your whereabouts these past days."

So soon. But Eragon would be glad to get out of the king's presence. And with that, the king made them swear additional oaths preventing them from mentioning anything that had happened at Urû'baen, their allegiance to Galbatorix, or their new mission. When Galbatorix was satisfied with the strength of their binds, he turned to Murtagh.

"Ready yourselves, Thorn and Murtagh, for you leave shortly. Your servants have prepared your saddle-bags, you should have little left to do before you depart." Murtagh rose reluctantly, "As you wish." Then his long stride took him out of the dining hall, with Thorn close behind. Eragon then turned to Galbatorix expectantly, waiting for him to tell him where to go.

"For the remainder of the day, you should familiarize yourself with the castle's staff and your entourage of servants," Eragon raised a brow at this. "They will be waiting in a room I've had prepared for you. Greet them, explore, bed a woman, I don't much care. Pass the time in whatever way you see fit to prepare yourself for your journey tomorrow. You are a Rider after all." The king finished with a gleam of entitlement in his eye.

"Haytham!" Galbatorix called out toward the exit and the graying man walked in.

"Sir." Haytham inquired with muted but apparent respect.

"Lead Eragon and Saphira to the quarters we discussed and bring them up to speed. Afterward they are officially under your watch. Take good care of them." Haytham bowed and motioned for Eragon to follow him back out the door. As they left Galbatorix in the room alone, Eragon had a chance to inspect Haytham more closely than he did before. He looked to be in his late forties, though his physique was impressive. He had a steel hand-and-a-half sword strapped to his hip and his clothing subtly endorsed his allegiance to the king.

He must have earned Galbatorix's favor somehow. Eragon thought. Exiting the castle into the fog of the morning, the party approached a large structure formed of white stone. It appeared to be an enormous white tower with large square holes of various sizes dotting its walls. Looking up, Eragon noticed a circular platform resting atop the tower, overhanging the shaft of the tower by nearly one hundred feet. Atop the platform sat domed and beautifully detailed rooftop, supported in the center by a single, broad pillar. Walking up to the wooden door, Haytham stopped and turned to Eragon and Saphira.

"This tower was built in the days of the Broddring Kingdom to serve as a resting point for the Dragon Riders during their reign." Haytham explained, gesturing behind him. "It is capable of housing several Riders and Dragons at once, though you will be staying at the top floor, with access to the sun porch. Every floor has a dragon port accessible from the outside, with a collapsible curtain to protect you from the elements. Your team is waiting for you inside. If you have any questions, you may find me in an office of the castle on the first floor, 23rd door on the left." With that, Haytham started off toward the castle.

"Wait!" Eragon called back to him. Haytham paused and turned around, his hands clasping behind his back. "Who are you, exactly?" The man raised a brow at his question. He hesitated for a moment, pursing his lips as if deciding how to answer. Finally he brought his hands out from behind his back.

"Some call me an Eye, others the Watcher. Those more ignorant often call me a guardsman." Haytham chuckled at the latter title. "What'll you come up with, I wonder?" And he continued on inside the castle, leaving Eragon more confused than anything.

Shall we? Saphira offered, lowering her forearm for Eragon to climb up into her saddle.

Let's see what this ancient architecture has to offer. Eragon replied, foregoing the saddle's leg straps for their short ride to the top floor of the tower. Saphira buffeted her wings for a moment as they reached the dragon port, balancing herself before tucking her them in and diving through the hole. Alighting on the wooden floors, Saphira stretched her wings out in the spacious room. Looking up and around himself, Eragon was amazed at the sheer size of the room. The ceilings themselves were vaulted up to a height twice as tall as Saphira could jump.

Shifting his gaze downward, Eragon examined the circular room. Splitting the room in half was a wall fifteen tall that seemed to be made of one solid, white stone. It was tall enough to provide privacy between the two halves of the room, but short enough that Saphira could hop over to either side with ease. At his current height upon Saphira's back, Eragon could clearly see into both halves of the room.

The half they were already in contained an enormous, sapphire cushion, clearly Saphira's bed, with a relatively smaller cot placed beside it. A few empty dressers and wall shelves decorated the room, but it was otherwise quite barren. Looking over the other side of the wall, Eragon noticed two young men and a woman stood in front a large oak writing table stationed in the center of the room, facing the door embedded in the middle of the white wall. Arranged in a semi-circle along the outside walls were dozens of bookcases packed with hundreds if not thousands of books and scrolls of various topics. Not a space was left vacant in the shelves.

Finally, a long winding staircase hugged the outside wall of the entire room leading straight up to a hatch in the ceiling that Eragon guessed must lead to the sun porch. The hand-rail looked to be made of iron and was twisted around itself in thick knots resembling forest vines.

Hopping down from Saphira's back, Eragon made to introduce himself to the three strangers and opened the door to the other half of his chambers. As he did, the three bowed deeply in unison, "It is an honor, Eragon Shadeslayer." The light-haired man in between the two others stepped forward, becoming the voice of the group, and extended a leather-gloved hand to the Rider.

"The name's Marten," came a voice much deeper than Eragon had anticipated for one so youthful. "I specialize in the arcane, spell work, mind reading, and spirit guiding. These are my companions, Fiömora," He gestured to his left at the fire-haired woman, and she dipped her head a fraction of an inch. "And Ilawâr." Who had to be the heavily-scarred and burly man with dark hair that fell just past his jawline and a large claymore strapped to his back.

Eragon only nodded, and Marten lowered his outstretched arm, an expression of slight disappointment briefly flashing across his face. Seemingly unfazed though, he continued with confidence, a pleasant smile reaching his icy blue eyes.

"We are aware of your departure in the morning, but have been tasked with guarding and assisting you by whatever means you see fit. Should you go into battle, we will lend you our strength. For the meantime, though, we will be staying in the room directly below you should you be in need of any assistance." Eragon stared at them in silence, causing Marten to shift his thin frame uncomfortably. The other two, though, were like stocky statues, never taking their eyes off him.

Marten eyed the hatch in the floor a few feet to his right, then dipped his head once again in Eragon's direction. "Pleasure." He said, before leading the other two toward the hatch. When they opened it, Eragon saw a ladder leading down to the floor directly below him, where they would be staying. He watched as Fiömora disappeared down the hole, closing the hatch over top of herself. Eragon noticed a lock attached to the hatch and decided to lock it. He wouldn't want them sneaking up in the middle of the night as he slept. Eragon wasn't sure about them and would have to test their loyalties before he could trust them. He wasn't too thrilled with the idea of them being directly below him.

It had been a long day, Eragon reflected. He was at a loss for what to do, now that the king had bound Saphira and him to his will. Eragon could feel the familiar sense of hopelessness beginning to return, but Saphira intervened, quelling his thoughts.

I don't know what to do any more than you do, Eragon, but dwelling on past mistakes will only torture your mind. Saphira chided.

Perhaps that's what I deserve. Eragon replied, sullenly. Saphira puffed a cloud of smoke in his face.

Enough of that. You cannot hope to devise a plan to free yourself if you are intent on punishing yourself. Focus on what we can do now to right this wrong. Eragon knew she was right, but it was hard to push his guilt and sadness aside. He had never felt more trapped or helpless in his life. He and Saphira had always been able to overcome whatever obstacle was hurtled their way. This was different.

And we will overcome this as well, little one. Put your thoughts to rest. Saphira interjected. Today was long, but tomorrow will be longer. We should prepare for the journey back. Eragon knew there wasn't much to prepare, as they would only be returning with what they left with. Though he also knew that the preparations Saphira was referring to were not physical, but mental. Conceding to Saphira's gentle demands, Eragon sat down on his cot and closed his eyes, allowing himself to fall into a deep meditation.

And there it is. I'll try to set a schedule of one chapter a week, though I won't wait if I can finish it before then. Let me know what you thought with a review, and I'll see you in the next chapter. (5/23/17)