Authors Note (and then the story):

Here is what one of you anonymous people wrote:

1. Eragon/OC and Murtagh/OC. I approve of neither, and I'm quite sure there are very few who approve of either of them.

2. Murtagh breaking away from Galbatorix's magic? I don't think even Shruikan would be able to do something like that.

3. Half-elf sounds Mary-Sue worthy. I really hate to say that, but I won't lie.

4. Murtagh never "betrayed" Eragon. He was forced to join Galbatorix. He valued his life too highly.

HERE IS MY REPLY:

1. Okay, I'm relatively new here, so I have no idea what O/C is, unless it means like... obsessive compulsive or something.

2. Shruikan can break from Galby's magic-- like Paolini said in his books, even dragons do not know the extent of their powers, and strange things are bound to happen near a dragon.

3. Lazuli is not a Mary Sue character-- the half elf part was created because... well you're gonna have to keep reading. Also, there hasn't been much interaction with Lazuli to know what she's really like.

4. Of course Murtagh betrayed Eragon! NOBODY forced Murtagh to swear to Galbatorix in the ancient language. If Murtagh valued his life so highly that he went to the 'dark' side, then he DID betray Eragon, who had put so much trust into him.

Thank you. You may resume the story. I'm sorry about that. By the way, thanks to whoever wrote that. It may have been hypocritical but I am glad that you took your time to give me imput.

For a while, Murtagh just sat in silence, listening to the steady beating of Thorn's wings, but suddenly, a question popped into his head.

"Lazuli?"

"Hm?"

"Why is it that the Empire has not yet heard of you?"

Lazuli was lost in the question. She didn't want to fully trust Murtagh yet—but she knew that whoever risked the King's wrath by escaping him should be trusted—but what if it was a ploy? No, no man could sustain so many injuries from a ploy. Besides, Murtagh had sworn to Eragon in the ancient language—sworn not to hurt him, Saphira, or herself…

Murtagh's voice was gentle, "It's okay if you don't want to tell me."

Lazuli nodded, grateful for avoiding the subject once more. She knew that sooner or later, she would have to tell, but she would rather it be later.

Lazuli buried her cold face into Murtagh's warm back, arms around his waist, and fell asleep, listening to his steady breathing.

Murtagh pulled Lazuli off of Thorn, who crouched so it would make Murtagh's task easier. He carried her in a gentle fashion so she would not wake, and set her lightly onto a bed of clothes he had made on the ground, and pulled a travel blanket up to her long neck. Then, without thinking, he placed a kiss on her delicate lips—his breath catching as she stirred, but breathed again when she did not wake.

Rest well, Lazuli. He thought fondly.

He turned around, and without warning, a fist slammed into his face, bruising his cheekbone. He turned his head around again, only to see Eragon flying through the air, pouncing at him. Murtagh had no time to shield himself, and his younger brother grabbed the elder one's shoulders, knocking Murtagh to the ground.

Murtagh did not move.

Eragon smiled, pleased, and glanced quickly at Lazuli to make sure she was still resting fitfully.

He felt a sudden force behind his knees, knocking him to the ground. Murtagh's body pinned Eragon to the ground, and he said, "Truly, did you think that was all that was needed to take me out?"

Eragon snarled, and did something unexpected—he kissed Murtagh.

Murtagh roared with disgust, ferociously scrubbing the spot on his cheek where his brother's lips had landed, giving Eragon enough time to wrap his arms around Murtagh's waist, lift him into the air, and slam him onto the ground.

Murtagh, still on the ground, grabbed Eragon's foot and pulled. Eragon felt a sharp pain as he hit his head on a rock—his vision temporarily blurred, and spots formed, but returned to normal within seconds. He tried to get up again, but found a large sapphire claw on his chest. He looked up warily, and saw Saphira glaring at him. From his peripheral vision, Eragon could see that Murtagh was in the same position.

Get off of me, Saphira!

No. Apologize to Murtagh… fighting like wolves over a piece of meat! Let Lazuli decide who she would rather be with!

But what if she doesn't choose me?

She has yet to decide. You and Murtagh both must rethink this—Lazuli may be unaccustomed to having more than one suitor, or any at all. You would think she was isolated if we'd never heard of her until only a few days ago.

You're right. She needs time to develop feelings.

Yes, little one, and so do you. Do not jump so quickly into a relationship.

Again, you're right.

I normally are, aren't I? Saphira released her paw, and Eragon took several deep, grateful breaths. Murtagh was still down.

Eragon approached Murtagh, and said humbly, "I'm sorry for… hurting you. I just…"

"Yes… I'm sorry too. Lazuli needs to develop feelings… Thorn's right. We can't fight over her like wolves over meat."

Eragon's mouth dropped in astonishment as he heard Saphira's words coming from Murtagh's mouth.

"That's exactly what Saphira said to me…"

"No, Thorn…" Realization crossed Murtagh's face.

Thorn and Saphira burst into low rumbles of dragon laughter as Eragon and Murtagh stood by them, embarrassment saturating the air. Beside them, Lazuli stirred. And though they did not know it, something else stirred as well.

Galbatorix fumed.

A soldier knelt in front of him, still, solemn, and composed, unlike the normally trembling soldiers that appeared in front of him.

"Well?" Galbatorix was in no good mood. He had just lost his most valuable fighter—the useless Rider Murtagh. Then, Galbatorix felt something he had felt only twice before in his life—once when he had lost his dragon, and once when Eragon, the scrawny boy, was discovered. It was fear, yet he was loathe to admit it—he would never admit it. He was Galbatorix. King Galbatorix. Rider Galbatorix. The Galbatorix.

"We have not found him, your majesty, but—"

"But what, General Worthless, but what?"

"We have reported sightings of dragons flying over the Beors."

"Oh." Galbatorix adapted his oily, snakelike voice, "Well then, I expect your men should currently be searching for them.

"That order has not yet been issued, but it can be done so immediately."

"What? I expected better of you. Go before I get rid of you." Galbatorix knew that he was one of his best military officials, but threats seemed to make people work more efficiently. The man hurriedly exited the room.

Galbatorix sighed, then slammed the entrance to the throne room, making his way to the Hall of Mirrors. At the end of the one-hundred foot tall hall, there was a large 100ft by 200 foot mirror. "Draumr kópa," whispered the dark king, focusing on an image of Eragon. He saw no image of the boy appear on the mirror—only hundreds and hundreds of replicas of himself, reflected by all the other mirrors in the hall. Eragon could not be scryed, Galbatorix realized. It must have been magic protecting the little boy. Yes. It must have—there was no other explanation for it, because if it was a mind block, the mirrors would have shown a wall of defense.

No matter. Galbatorix thought to himself. He repeated the two ancient words again, and smiled in satisfaction as a sleeping Thorn came into view. He whispered another word, and then the Hall of Mirrors echoed with sound—sounds of… a river! Upon closer inspection, Galbatorix saw a rushing body of water behind Thorn. It was either the Beartooth or the Elda river. No matter, he could send troops to both rivers. Then, Galbatorix suddenly wondered… could Murtagh be with Eragon? That would make sense, since there were sightings of two dragons… but could it be a false alarm? What was it that made the two Riders join? Murtagh had betrayed Eragon to keep his own life. What made him risk it now?

Please review! Thanks in advance.