As Eragon round the bend, his eyes were greeted by a strange, yet alarming sight

As Eragon round the bend, his eyes were greeted by an alarming sight. The ground was drenched in blood, most of it looked fresh; the deep, reddish rust liquid splattered across the walls. Pressed against his door was several soldiers clad in metal armor, drenched in sweat; each shuddering in turn as the door was rammed by an unseen force. A small chipped piece of the door glimpsed glowing blue scales beyond. A deep deafening roar resonated through the halls, harmonizing with the shudders of the door, grunts of the men, and loud, steady beating from beyond the door.

Eragon rushed to his door, murmuring enchantments to put the dragon beyond asleep. She growled and hissed as she felt his presence, as though he still could do no more with her then a wild bear. A really big, really dangerous blue-scaled bear which spits out fire. She fought his magic, the battle slowly sucking away his energy. He grunted and held strong, only willing to give up just before he'd lose consciousness.

"What happened?" He yelled over the torrent of noises.

"A guard heard something inside. He thought she was hurt after the attack. He didn't know what hit 'im; she got a nice hunk of his leg. Had to rip him from her and smash the door shut. Been like this ever since." A guard answered, his voice just as loud. He grunted as he pushed all his strength into holding the door.

"Try to distract her. All I need is two seconds and she'll be out cold." He yelled back. Not all the guards heard, and even less of them truly understood what Eragon was planning, but as if on cue, they all let go at once.

No sooner then when they had gotten away did the door come flying open, a surprised roar tearing from Saphira's scaly lips. Eragon rushed her with power, and for a moment, it almost worked. She shuddered as the magic tried to take hold of her. But the gap in the dragon's defenses was clearly short-lived as she shook off the drowsiness; she stood up to full height, towering above everything and everyone. Her gaze instantly turned to Eragon, bloodlust and murder in her eyes.

She was just about to jut out another deafening roar when there came a peeping from behind her, distracting her from her task. The little green hatchling mewed in dismay as Saphira turned to his rescuers. Saphira slashed her diamond-hard nails at the men, who feebly drew their swords; gingerly bouncing off her claws.

Instantly, she lunged again. They weakly defended themselves, swords flailing like they were cave men. The clank of metal on nail echoed through the normally serene scene. A few nobles stumble upon the scene, only to dash away to tell some official. The men struggled against the she-dragon's great strength. They couldn't last much longer…

Eragon gathered himself up. He'd have one chance to do this right…

He quickly counted every spike running up her tail, till he saw what he needed. The tenth spike. He started towards her slowly, careful not to make a sound; the guards desperate to distract her from what was really happening behind her.

Suddenly, one of the guards stumbled. His weakened defense was swiftly taken advantage of; with on swift motion of her tail, Saphira knocked him off his feet and sending him flying towards Eragon like a projectile. With inhuman swiftness, Eragon snapped down. Saphira turned and snorted at her handy work, till she spotted Eragon close to her tail. Registering what he was trying to do, she turned fully to him.

A deep, unearthly fire in her eyes, she dashed for him. Even the dragonling's frantic cries of warning to him were unable to distract her. There was a hatred in those blue eyes; an iciness like no other. Her blooded claws swung at him, missing his chest by a hair's breath. She gave an out raged roar and sent a torrent of a-thousand-degree flame at her rider.

"I don't want to hurt you Saphira!" Eragon cried, the flames licking his clothes and singling his hair. The heat was intensely unbearable, drying the blood on his clothes. It cracked on his hands, turning them a deep, more permanent shade of red. He somersaulted under the flames, rolling into a corner.

Saphira moved on him, determined to keep him cornered. Her lithe neck slung towards him, teeth snapping at him; she caught his left leg, sinking deep into his leg. Eragon cried out as Saphira released him, whimpering as the pain coursed through her as well. He doubled over in pain as the dragon scanned her legs for the source of the pain. Finding none, she turned her attention back to the fallen rider.

Eragon crawled on his hands and knees, blood draining from his body. The muscles in his left leg were shot, leaving it to drag behind him as dead weight. Shaking her head violently, Saphira whipped her tail at him, smashing his form against the wall. Eragon coughed up blood onto her tail, his lungs straining to breathe. She seemed equally winded, and confused as to why. He struggled to move, but her bulk easily deflected his desperate fighting. She let her wings billow out gracefully, triumphantly waving at her fallen opponent.

He smeared his blood on his neck, hoping to use it as a grease to move out of her grip. He desperately pushed up. When she saw what he was doing, she grabbed him with her talons to grip him better, still holding him against the wall as she withdrew her long tail. Her nails caught his clothes and skin, ensnaring him like a clamp trap would a rabbit. Her claws grated his bones, blood trickling from the fresh wounds. She shifted her legs, straightening out; aligning her body to put move force and control on his weakened form.

With no way to get free, he looked up; straight into her blue eyes. She gazed right back at him defiantly, no fear or remorse or even pity in her eyes. They stared into each other's eyes for the longest time, till it was one hundred percent clear how she wanted to end this.

She was going to kill him.

She gave another bellow as he looked away submissively. His strength zapped, he could do no more but sit and wait. Wait to live. Wait to die. Wait for an end, that wouldn't come easily.

He closed his eyes and wondered what happens when you die. Do you just fade into nothingness or is there really anything beyond? Was there really a glorious kingdom, anywhere, for the dead or was it all just rumors? The misplaced hope of ancient times.

What ever happened, he had always had the comfort of knowing when that happened, Saphira would be with him.

He'd long had visions of the pair lying on the battlefield, too weak to carry on. Dead enemies, sometimes including Murtagh and Thorn, others not, lying all around them; testifying to a noble fight. Wounds scathing their bodies, some simply little nicks, other beyond repair. Her whole body wrapped around his protectively, even in death. Her bloody head curled towards his as they drew their final breaths, spent on fighting for their dream. Together. At long last and forever. Their lives ended with a soft conversation talking of the past and all the lost dreams of the future; of regrets and final apologies to each other.

Sometimes, Eragon could seem them falling as they fought Murtagh or Galbatorix or both, always gallantly giving one final lunge at their opponents before their enemy launched the ending blow. Sometimes, they got there and slew them just as they were to draw their last breathes, other times not; but either way, there was always one pair of last lines he could see them saying. I love you, little one. She'd say. I love you too. He'd always answered as they rushed upon their doom.

But never this…they were meant to die together, not kill each other. She was part of him. And it him hard, her betrayal. And here, in his final moments, he could even say goodbye…his breath stifled away and her mind unable to connect with his.

He still could try to think it. I love you, Saphira. He thought as she prepared to end his life.

Suddenly, with a terrible cry, the pressure dropped from his chest, her nails falling lifelessly from his chest. He opened his eyes to see her claws at his feet. Her whole form was collapsed, though her icy blue eyes still glared out at him. She bellowed in dismay as his eyes took in the feline form of his rescuer.

He knew her straight away as she turned to face him, her hand pushing down on her tenth spike. Her full, wine lips murmured a few soft words, putting the dragon to sleep at long last. Her emerald eyes looked at him in concern, eying the blood dripping down his leg. She moved to him silently, her ebony hair swishing behind her back like a raven in flight.

"Don't move." She said softly in her musical, Elven voice. It brought back a pang of rejection in his heart and he averted her gaze. She frowned, but placed her hands over his wounds and whispered the words to heal them never the less.

"Thanks, Arya." He said. Though he was grateful, his mouth found it impossible to pit out the normally-added respectful term. He was tongue-tied, so he stayed in silence; his healed leg sending a pleasant tingling up and down its length.

He could feel her gaze on him, shocked he wouldn't look at her. "Eragon, look at me." she said softly.

"Why should I, Arya? You and me both know what'll happen." He said resentfully.

"No." she stuttered, quickly stopping herself. Eragon turned his head. There was something…odd in her eyes. Eragon looked her over. There was a change in her. Maybe… He leaned towards her; she did not move back. As he continued, she almost seemed to move forward herself; till the last second possible when she backed away, shaking.

Eragon sighed. Arya's green eyes rest on the floor, the look gone from her being. Eragon smiled grimly "I was right." He said gently, turning away from her. She made no motion to stop him as he left.

When he was out of earshot, she could feel hot tears falling down her cheeks.