Author's Note: Hey, back again! I hope this goes well. prays for inspiration
Disclaimer: I do not own Eragon, nor the places and stuff. I own the few characters that I happened to make up, yadda yadda. Onward to the story!
She was dimly aware of something soft beneath her. Her head pounded with pain, and as she shifted, she became aware of a presence watching her. The girl sat up quickly, her brown eyes wide with uncertainty and fear.
She immediately regretted it, for the room blurred and began to spin. Weakly she sank back into the bed she had been laying on, wincing as she laid her aching head back on the pillow. She could not see clearly enough to locate where the other presence in the room was, much less identify it. As her vision began to clear, she managed to make out the face of a large red dragon standing directly beside, her, watching.
"Ya-" her shriek was cut off as the creature stuffed a pillow in her mouth. She spat it out angrily.
"What are you-" it silenced her with a glare, and motioned with its head towards a man sitting in a chair, head bowed in sleep. Slowly, the girl propped herself up on one elbow to see.
His dark hair was rumpled and messy, obviously from staying up late in the night. He wore a simple tunic and a pair of trousers, but she could see a brilliantly made red sword with a strange symbol carved onto it. She watched as his head drooped lower, and his sword fell to the floor with a clatter. The young man woke with a start.
"Wha?" his dark brown eyes were wide with surprise. Calming down as he realized what happened, he glanced over at her, raising his eyebrows.
"Finally awake, huh? What's your name?" She wasn't sure if he could be trusted, but reasoned that there was no way she could help herself either way. There was a dragon standing not three feet away from her.
"…Samila." He was silent for a moment.
"Well, then, Samila. My name is Murtagh (can't remember his hair color). Care to tell me why you were drowning in the sea?" She shook her head.
"Not before you tell me where I am, why you brought me here, and who you really are." He sighed.
"Tough one, aren't you? Suit yourself. You're in Uru'baen, I saw you fall off the dock, and I told you, my name is Murtagh. Is that all?" Samila narrowed her eyes.
"No. Actually, I have a few more. If you saw me fall in, why don't you know how I fell? And if you live here, then why were you over the sea? Why do you live with a dragon, and what is this place?" Murtagh sighed.
"You really do have a lot of questions, aren't you? Listen, I'm not going to answer all of them, but we're in the palace, just to let you know where you are. This is Thorn." He motioned to the Dragon. "Nobody but the King knows you're here, and he can see our every move. By now he must already know that you're awake." As if on cue, a knock sounded on the oaken door.
"Master Murtagh?" At the call, Murtagh leapt up, threw the blanket over Samila, and scrambled towards the door. Thorn sidled in front of her, obscuring the girl from view.
"Yes? What is it," Murtagh asked the servant that stood before him.
"King Galbatorix requests that the three of you join him for dinner tonight and seven-thirty." By the confused look on the messenger's face, Murtagh could tell that he had no idea what his words meant. "It's a formal occasion, I believe." The messenger bowed low, and Murtagh closed the door in his face.
Turning to face the bed, he shrugged his shoulders.
"I told you." Samila shoved the blanket off of her and looked around Thorn.
"Me, in the presence of His Majesty? You've got to be kidding. What am I going to do? It's a formal occasion, he's a king, and I'm some peasant!" Groaning in despair, she flopped down on the bed with a thump. Murtagh raised his eyebrows.
"Are you always this pessimistic?"
"Depends on the situation." Her words were muffled by the pillow in her face. Sighing once more, the young man ran his hand through his already messy hair.
"Listen, dinner will be in an hour and fifteen minutes. I'll ask one of the servants to bring you a dress." He grimaced. "This is going to be awkward." He rang a bell on the side of the door. Almost at once, knocking sounded out in the room again. Thorn tossed the blanket over Samila against and hid her while Murtagh made his requests. The conversation took quite a while, to Samila's dismay, but she stayed hidden under the coverlet. The door closed, but as she began to pull her head out, Murtagh whispered,
"Don't. He'll be back shortly." They were silent for a few moments, before the knock was heard again. Murtagh opened the door and accepted the garments, before dismissing the servant and closing the door.
"You can come out now." Samila sat up in the bed and looked curiously at Murtagh.
"I'm not going to change with you around." He laughed shortly.
"I didn't expect you to. Listen, Thorn and I will go on a walk, and be back in about half an hour or so. Forty-five minutes at most. I think the dress will fit you. It's small." He tossed her the gown and turned to leave. The dragon moved with no audible command to join his Rider.
We'll be back soon. The door clicked shut behind them, leaving Samila staring at the wood in shock. It could talk! No – not it. Thorn was male.
Sighing, she looked at the dress lying on the bed in a pile, and stood, swaying slightly on her bruised legs. Pulling off her dirty top and trousers, she slid into the clothing, surprised by how soft the dark green material was. The strapless gown gave her an elegant, slim look – not that she wasn't skinny enough already from malnourishment. With a fair about of grunting and stretching her arms in various uncomfortable poses, Samila managed to lace up the back of the dress. The only problem were her lack of shoes and bruises that dotted her arms, shoulders, neck, and face. She stared at herself in a small mirror that she found hanging on the wall. The dress may have been beautiful, but the rest of her was not.
Her dark brown hair was so tangled that it was clumped together as one large woven mat of hair, making it look shorter than it really was. Her arms and legs were still filthy, but she did not dare venture out of the room in search of a bath. Luckily, she found a small bowl of water by the bed (which Murtagh used for scrying), and dipped her fingers into it, rubbing her arms to rid herself of some of the grime. As Samila continued her search of the room, she found a few more things of interest; a hairbrush, and a mint-green sash that was meant for her dress. First, she used the brush to tackle the arduous job of untangling her unruly tresses. The process took only twenty minutes, much less time than she had expected (due to her habit and yanking out entire tangles at a time in frustration). Luckily, her hair was thick, and now tamed. But she could not leave it hanging around her waist.
Glancing around the room, she was disappointed to find nothing to aid her cause. Her eyes then fell on the sash that she had not yet put on.
Well, it will work for the time being. Seizing the thin, silky strip of cloth, she bound it around her brow, using it as a restraint for her long bangs that threatened to completely obscure her face from view.
The sound of the doorknob turning rooted her to the spot with dread.