In hindsight Eragon should have expected something like this. After all, his life had completely done a corkscrew and nosedive from the clouds to the bottom of the sea for the past year and a half. He had become a Rider, something he never expected to happen. He killed a Shade, also not expected. He was the champion of the rebel army, the Varden, only to be betrayed by said rebel army. Again not expected. He found a dragon egg and her Rider. Honestly sometimes Eragon wanted to slam his head against the stone cold marble until it was nothing but useless rubble.

He was currently seated on the cold rough floor that was the hollowed out shell of Utgard, his back pressed against Saphira's flank. Ronan and Bjartkoü were nearby, Bjartkoü's stark white flank seemed to glow against the darkness. Arya was by his right, sitting in a meditative pose while looking at the sight before them with idle curiosity.

Six Shrrg, no longer pups but now ferocious beasts the size of a horse, sat in the semicircle of different races. The one who had actually spoken to Eragon via the mind sat in the middle, tongue lolling out of its giant maw like a common farmer's dog, but those amber eyes seemed to burn within Eragon like he had set a Brisingr spell within his body. Two Shrrg sat by their brother on the left, while neither of the Shrrg were as big as the one in the middle, they were only smaller by a few pounds and shorter by a few inches.

One was the color of snow, a massive beast with eyes as dark as coal. Eragon could see the bulging muscles underneath his shaggy coat.

Another was the color of the lightest shade of brown, so light the Shrrg looked like her coat had been dipped within honey. Her chest was the same color of white as her pack mate, though more of a cream color than that of freshly fallen snow. Her eyes were the color of the purest of amber. While she wasn't as muscular as her brothers, she looked like she could easily throw a man several meters with a single bat of her massive paw. Eragon could tell by a single gaze at her leaner form that she was without a doubt one of the fastest of the Shrrg, he would rather not find out how fast though. He didn't particularly feel like being chased down by a wolf the size of a stallion and with teeth as sharp and long as daggers.

Another one, obviously male, was the color of smoke. His grey coat was slightly shorter than the white male's coat, but as he shifted ever so slightly from where he sat Eragon couldn't help but think of storm clouds. Eyes as bright and cold as ice stared at him.

Another was a mix of black, white, and gristly grey. He looked like a normal wolf that dwelled within the ancient Spine, though was obviously of broader build and of greater height. He was the smallest though only by a few inches but made up for bulk. His eyes were different colors, with the left being an icy blue and the other a dark brown, nearly black, in color.

Eragon rubbed his hands through his dark, shaggy locks, as though the simple motion of tension would leave. Sadly it didn't work.

Ronan looked thoroughly uncomfortable, though that may have been because of the term all of the Shrrg had greeted him with. Bjartkoü was resting his giant head on the cold ground, his golden eyes staring at the Shrrg from behind his Rider.

"So…. You guys are intelligent." Ronan finally said, before he trailed off embarrassingly as all of the Shrrg looked at him.

"Ronan…" Eragon sighed wearily.

Ronan looked at his mentor with an indignant look, "What? I can't state the obvious?"

"No/No." Eragon and Bjartkoü spoke at the same time, the White Rider looked at his companion with a look of annoyance rather than hurt.

Arya decided to intervene before Eragon and Ronan did typical human male things and fight one another; she directed her cool jade eyes on the searing amber of the dark Shrrg who had spoken to them. "You've been intelligent this whole time, why now have you informed us?"

The black furred wolf cocked his head, his tail thundering on the stone ground. Seeing as all of the magical beings had their consciousness within the dark Shrrg they could hear his reply as clearly as though he was actually talking. We wished to wait until we had grown, the large wolf turned his attention to Eragon, You know that animals are capable of thought, we have our own language, but instead of words we have growls, snarls, howls, and other sounds that suits any animal race.

Eragon thought back to where his journey had first began, when Saphira and himself were guided by Brom as he taught them everything a Rider should know. He remembered Therinsford vividly, for he had spent much of his time wary of accidently running into his cousin, for Garrow's death was still fresh and felt as though a dagger coated in Seithr oil had been dug into his heart. He thought of Cadoc, the horse named after his grandfather, long since passed into the Void.

He had accidently brushed against the consciousness of his mount, had noted that despite the thoughts were jumbled and fast paced compared to that of a man's, there was no denying that Cadoc had been intelligent, how else could he have noticed the confused mind of Eragon when he delved into the roan's thoughts?

Oromis had Eragon spent much of the duration of his training simply sitting in the glade, instructing the younger Rider to open his mind to the minds of those around him, to pay attention to the smallest of beings to the largest, not just the minds of men and elves.

He had seen through the many eyes of ants just how greatly animals were intelligent, though they weren't capable of speech like humans, instead they had their own way of communication than words. The queen ant had commanded the servant ants just like a king did to his men, the soldier ants fought and died to protect the hive, just like how soldiers fight to protect their home and loved ones. They weren't so different, despite them being the size of a grain of oat. Eragon had known that they were intelligent, but here he was standing there with his tongue tied as he gazed at the Shrrg, who were no mere farm dogs that patrolled their homes, but beautiful and intelligent beasts.

Granted, the only way the Shrrg could actually communicate with anyone outside of their species was to use magic to allow them to project their thoughts, but the simple act confounded him.

I still have so much to learn, I'm still so ignorant, Eragon thought to himself in shock, fully aware of how the underestimating of his surroundings could get themselves killed in the near future. If he ignored the past that spoke of intelligence in animals, than what would happen when he was against men with swords in hand and loyalty to the Mad King in their hearts? He was responsible for everyone here, though he knew that they wouldn't have wanted him to be, but he was. Eragon had found Ronan, had given him Bjartkoü's egg, well aware of the dangers that would plague the blacksmith's apprentice should the egg hatch. Ronan could never go back to his life in Ursür, just like Eragon could never go back to his life in Carvahall. He had damned a man younger then himself in this deadly game of war and Riders. But Eragon had been desperate; he knew that now as he thought of it.

He had been so tired of being alone, of being the sole hope and symbol of freedom. The hopes and dreams of the people, from humans to dwarves, from elves to Urgals, they all slammed onto the already staggering weight placed upon his unready shoulders, should he slip up once, a mere mistake, and the entire structure would come down like a house of glass.

Was it wrong of him to want another companion, another person to help shoulder the weight of the world? He would never have Ronan go through what he had, the pressures, both physical, mental, and political, of being the sole free Rider left in Alagaesia, well aside from Oromis who couldn't fight. He would think of that later, he already had enough problems going on.

"Whilst I now understand that you six are intelligent and capable of thought and conversation, albeit only mental. Why didn't you say so earlier, you have been growing for quite a long time, why now have you revealed it?" Eragon started as he looked at the black furred Shrrg that he assumed was the leader.

The black Shrrg cocked his head to the side, as though pondering Eragon's words. You never asked, came the simple reply.

Eragon's eye threatened to twitch violently, "Oh, well excuse me." The Blue Rider said dryly.

Ronan actually looked hurt, "Why didn't you guys tell me?" the one who had saved the Shrrg when they had been but a few hours old said with a tone filled with hurt, obviously the monstrous wolves had dealt him a slight in not revealing they could talk.

We're sorry, mother. The black furred Shrrg whined out, like that of a pup getting caught doing something he shouldn't, if that pup was a two hundred pound beast with claws and fangs as sharp as blades, of course.

Bjartkoü snickered at that, his deep laugh a mighty rumble. The white dragon thought back to the day when he and Ronan had stumbled upon the Narga and the Shrrg, how he had deemed Ronan their new mother. Hindsight was amazing.

"Don't call me that!" Ronan yelled out, his tanned skin turning a violent shade of vermillion as Bjartkoü continued to laugh at the luck of his Rider. Can I call you mother too? The great white dragon asked slyly.

Why do the gods hate me so much? Ronan wondered as he looked up to the heavens that were hidden from his sight by the layers of rock that formed Utgard.

Arya would have rolled her eyes at the younger male, but refrained and instead focused upon the black Shrrg. "What does this mean now," the elven princess said with a surprising amount of bluntness. "Surely because you've revealed yourselves means that either two things will happen, you shall leave to return to the Beor Mountains, doubtful as you could have just done that instead of following us to the northern parts of the Spine. Or, you have instead decided you wanted something that could only be gained by being with us."

The Shrrg chuckled at that, well at least they assumed it was a chuckle. Very good princess. You are correct in this, the black wolf sat upon taller, as though preparing to speak grim words. We wish to help you.

"…. Come again?" Ronan questioned.

While we were not born during the Fall, we know of it from you three, a quick glance at the dragons made the Shrrg amend, sorry, five. We may not remember our birth home, but even we know of the destruction this Mad King will have upon the world, not just the Empire. Not to mention, you saved our lives, he nodded in Ronan's direction, before focusing on Eragon. You are a Rider, whenever you come near the wind sings of your passing, the earth shudders as you walk. We aren't the only ones to hear this, surely other animals have noticed your presence. We wish to join you in your attempt to defeat the king. Humans, dwarves, elves, and Urgals are not the only ones in danger of the Rider's mad rage, everyone is in danger. You have your swords and magic, we have our teeth and claws. We can help you in battle… alpha.

"You called me this before, why?" Eragon wondered, for surely this Shrrg was the alpha of this pack.

Ronan follows you, the princess follows you, the dragons follow you. And so shall we. The Shrrg said simply. You gave us a chance of life when you could have easily left us to defend ourselves, you are part of our pack now, our family. And we fight for our family.

Ronan and Arya shot Eragon a look, obviously waiting for his word. It still unnerved him that he was the de facto leader of this… rebel group? New Order of the Riders? Arya should be the leader, she did have several decades worth of experience on him.

There were only five of them, well six if you counted Sloan who was not taking part of this meeting for obvious reasons. Five beings against the entire world, the odds weren't exactly in their favor.

"You did say we need people to our cause…. Think about it, how awesome would it be if we had a whole pack of Shrrg fighting with us? I know they would make even the most bloodthirsty imperial wet their pants and beg for mercy!" The words of Ronan when he had first brought home the large litter came to Eragon's thoughts.

Eragon really wanted to bang his head against the wall again. "Damn it Ronan, why is it that everything you say seems to foreshadow something?"

Ronan shrugged, "It's called common sense, Eragon-elda."

Well at least we can say one thing, Saphira stated in his mind, at the silent prod of the statement from Eragon she continued. We are outnumbered until we rally the humans together to rebel against Galbatorix, Shrrg are well known for dismembering even the most battle hardy of dwarves, they could help us.

I guess your right, Eragon agreed. He turned his attention back the larger than normal wolves, "How about this…"

Eragon sat crossed legged on a broken pillar in the former tower of Edoc'sil. In his hands was a normal wooden bowl filled with water. Eragon stared at his reflection thoughtfully, tracing the bristly hairs of his goatee with an idle finger; he cocked his head slightly and looked at his ears. While he had transformed his body back to what it had appeared when he had been human, marks of the Blood Oath Ceremony still lingered in his body, and would forever. Eragon had always been of a leaner build, he doubted he would ever be as naturally built as Ronan or Roran, who were more of heavy hitters than he was, for he would rather be fast than strong. But the mark of the dragons had taken his lean body and made it different, better, stronger, he was faster than any human alive. Only an elf could match him in speed, but he still looked human.

He trailed his finger over the tips of his ears, noting the way his ear pointed ever so slightly. Before they had been as pointy as an elf's, but such ears would be noticeable in the Empire. He remembered warmly sitting in Brom's cottage, sipping a tea too hot and strong for his taste, and asking about the Riders of Old. How he said that even human Rider's would have their ears slowly turn pointed, he remembered fighting the urge to feel his then flat and round ears. Eragon sighed; so much has changed.

Eragon glanced around, making sure no one was near him. He debated whether or not he should do this, his right hand clenching his silver hammer amulet that prevented scryers from knowing his location.

"Draumr kópa," Eragon whispered so softly that it was barely audible.

The smooth water immediately started to ripple, Eragon's reflection blurring as magic coursed through the pure conduit. Eragon waited patiently, his breath held nervously, finally the water stilled an image appeared so clear Eragon felt he was there.

Murtagh was sitting on a large scaly leg, the scales flashing a dark crimson. Soft sunlight struck the Rider and dragon, Za'roc and Thorn's scales gleamed like finely cut rubies.

Eragon didn't know where they were, the background was stark white, indicating that the rebel Rider and brother to the Rider in the bowl of water had never been there before nor seen it. They were obviously on the ground, seeing that Thorn's massive body was lounging in the sunlight.

Eragon studied Murtagh's face, noting that despite his face being more sharp and angular than Eragon's, there was some resemblance between them. Their chin had the same slight tilt. It made Eragon wonder though. Did they share that from their mother or father?

Morzan.

Eragon frowned at that; the name of his father left a rather bitter and sour taste in his mouth. It tasted like something rotten, some foul. He remembered accidently having hunted and eaten a rabbit that had some sort of sickness to it, he could taste it in the flesh but he had been too hungry to really care. The thoughts of the father turned the son's attention to his mother.

Selena.

What had she been like? Was she kind? Did she even out her husband's fits of rage with love and care. Did she ever comfort her son Murtagh when he came to her, did she help clean the bloody wound that would scar his back? The wound caused by Murtagh's father, their father, Eragon reminded himself with a wince. Had she comforted like Aunt Marian had done to a young Eragon when he rushed to her and Garrow's bed, scared of the dark, monstrous shadows that littered his small yet cozy room? Or for Murtagh, had been those dark shadows been the silhouette of Morzan of the Forsworn?

Eragon had never known his mother; she had left him when he was still a babe. Or at least that was what Garrow and Marian told him on that fateful day when he realized that those he had thought his parents weren't. That Roran wasn't his brother, that Garrow wasn't his father, that Marian wasn't his mother. He hadn't spoken for several days, shock keeping him so mute that even Roran grew worried in a way only a eight year old could. To him, just only seven, it was the greatest shock of his life. He was scared and angry, had he been abandoned? It certainly seemed that way when his mother left just a few days after his birth, begging her brother to take care of him. Garrow never saw his sister again.

She's dead, that nagging voice whispered slyly. You knew that, you always knew. Murtagh just confirmed it. She didn't love you; she abandoned you. She didn't abandon Murtagh, your older brother.

Eragon gritted his teeth, he looked away from his brother's form and instead looked at the scenery laid down before him. He didn't like the thoughts that nagged at him, the sly whispering in the dredges of his mind, voices that grew darker and darker with each passing day. They were the voices that ensemble his insecurities, and being the son of a monster was without a doubt one of them.

Eragon Morzanson. Son of the Betrayer. Offspring of Darkness. Inheritor of his Blood. Progeny of The Forsworn. Heir of-

Eragon, Saphira's voice rumbled throughout his head. Snapping her Rider out of his trance, concern and worry clung to her consciousness like tree sap. Enough… It will do no good to think these thoughts. The dragoness stated with concern.

I can't help it, Saphira. Eragon ran his lean fingers through his long locks, looking ready to pull the dark hair out by its roots. No matter how much time has passed, Murtagh's – my brother's- words shall always haunt me. Doubt and fear slowly trickled its way in with sickening haste, before latching their sharp claws in his scarred heart.

I'm the youngest son of Morzan of the Forsworn. The one who made Galbatorix's rise possible. He's a villain, an oathbreaker, eggbreaker, and murderer. The young Rider would have continued had not Saphira interrupted with the volume of an avalanche.

Morzan is not your father, Eragon. Saphira hissed vehemently, while Murtagh's words are true, that you are brother's, that doesn't mean Morzan is your father. He did not raise you, guide you, lead you. He never played a role in your life; he died when you were no doubt a toddler still unaware of the dangers of this world. Something seemed to catch half of Eragon's heart and soul, Eragon could feel the faint yet prominent and painful twinges of helplessness and self-loathing that he had never expected to feel from his greatest companion, but it soon disappeared. What I'm saying, don't let blood get in the way of who you are. You are Eragon, I choose you for your heart and soul, I never regretted my choice and nothing will make me regret it, not even your parentage. Saphira said with so much love and warmth in her tone it made Eragon's throat tighten and his eyes began to burn.

Eragon had often wondered how he had been so lucky to have a friend like Saphira, his other half.

I choose you for your heart, Saphira had once said to him so long ago, when they had stayed in the Fathern Dûr while the Urgals swarmed through the tunnels.

He wondered what his greatest companion thought of his heart now, his scarred barely beating heart. He wondered if Morzan's dragon had chosen his father for his heart, did he even have one?

Eragon… Saphira started with a snarl, a quick glance at her thoughts showed that she was seriously contemplating using magic to glue him to a wall and lecture him about his stupid self-conscious thoughts of himself until the end of time, or when he got his head out of the dark cloud that was his parentage.

Eragon leaned his entire body against Saphira's head, his arms wrapping around her monstrous snout. Sharp blue meeting sapphire blue, though one eye was definitely much larger than the other two. I love you, Saphira…

Saphira merely hummed in approval, wisps of smoke trailing out of her nostrils as the air surrounding the two joined souls rumbling from her happiness.

Eragon glanced down at the bowl that sat on the ground, Murtagh and Thorn's forms still visible. With a sigh he dropped back down to the ground and crouched by the bowl, his eyes never leaving his brother's form. How are we going to save them, Saphira? He asked helplessly, the very sight of them reminded him bitterly that they were the personal slaves of Galbatorix, the Mad King. They were forced to fight against those Murtagh had formerly called comrades, he had to slay a king he had once protected. He had to fight his own flesh and blood, his little brother.

I do not know, little one. Saphira said truthfully, her brilliant eyes focused on her nest mate, her slave of an egg brother. She nuzzled her Rider as she spoke again, but I know we will figure something out. Remember what Oromis-elda said about True Names?

Aye, Eragon thought as he thought back to his conversation with his crippled mentor about the subject of True Names, Oromis-elda had been adamant that his pupil knew all there was about the subject, for one day Galbatorix could learn it and he would need everything he had to break free of the Black Rider's chains. It had been a rather depressing talk, now that Eragon thought of it.

Oromis-elda said that True Names can change, if the person changes as well. Nothing is concrete in this life, for change is to be expected and welcomed, whether good or bad, Eragon said, remembering his mentor's words as clearly as though he had just said them moments before.

Maybe it won't be us who shall free your nest brother, Saphira stated as she gazed upwards to the very tip of the hollowed shell that was currently Utgard; her eyesight gazed upon the hidden sky. Perhaps Murtagh shall be the one to free himself and my egg brother. Should he change from the man he is now.

The last time I saw my brother, he was a dark brooding man with the entire world against him. Murtagh has always been that.

Saphira snorted at that, knowing that Eragon's brother had always been a bit dark and grim, but she could see the light in his black heart, it was faint but the fact that Murtagh fought against the orders of his master, fought against his very being, to spare his baby brother of the pain of servitude to a certified madman showed that the Crimson Rider had a heart behind all the pain inflicted upon him.

That may be true, your brother has always been a bit… grim, but he has his heart in the right place. He cares for you Eragon, and you care him. You two are brothers, hatch mates; your bond is no small matter. Not to mention there is another who may be able to help him. The image of Nasuada flashed through Eragon's minds, courtesy of Saphira.

Nasuada? Eragon questioned with surprise, before remembering when he and Murtagh had lived under the Beor Mountains in the dwarven city of Farthen Dûr, he had thought that Murtagh had become quite smitten with the brave woman, and Nasuada had shown that she was smitten with his brother as well.

Nasuada is the leader of the Varden whilst Murtagh is the servant of the Mad King, they are on opposite sides of the chess board, only divine intervention and several miracles could give them a chance to be near one another without them trying to strangle the other, much less make them fall in love, Eragon rebutted, though his mind wondered of the what if's.

Admit it, it'd be an interesting love story. Saphira declared.

Eragon rolled his eyes at that, somehow Murtagh and romance didn't mix very well. And how would Murtagh change if he loved Nasuada?

Saphira spoke seriously, never hesitating as she merely said; you changed for Arya.

That made Eragon pause, before slowly nodding in agreement. I guess you're right, I did change for her. Love does interesting things, doesn't it?

Have faith in your brother, Murtagh never was one to lay down and take a beating. I have faith that if we can't free my egg brother and your brother, Murtagh will probably have done it already, Saphira declared confidently, no second thoughts or hesitation showing up anywhere in her mind.

Eragon glanced down at the bowl of water, the mirage rippling as he touched the rim of the bowl, sending the image in a flurry of motion. He swiped his hand across the water, effectively cutting the magical connection.

With a weary sigh, Eragon relaxed against Saphira's scaly forearm. Glancing up at the sky hidden under several layers and tones of rock, he finally said to his other half. We have a lot of work to do.

For those wondering about Saphira's declaration of Morzan not being Eragon's father, he's still clueless about his true parentage, she didn't specifically mean that Eragon wasn't the biological son of Morzan, she meant it emotionally. Because of her oaths she can't reveal the truth to her Rider, hence the feeling of hopelessness and self-loathing Eragon noticed, but she can still try and help him without dropping clues. Sorry if the conversation with the Shrrg was a bit iffy, I think I may revise that but that is one of the reasons it took so long to update, I just wasn't pleased with it. How'd you guys like the little scene with Murtagh? Admit it, he is a bit of a dark avenger with the entire world against them.

An interesting side note, CP himself stated that Saphira would have most likely hatched for Murtagh had the whole fiasco of the egg theft not gone down and Eragon never finding her egg. Mind blown! Maybe I'll write an a fanfic for that when I'm done with this one, though I already have plans for another Inheritance Cycle fic that I've started writing for… eh, we'll see where the roads take me.

I'm very sorry for the lack of updates, but my life has taken a bit of a hectic turn these past couple of months that make it difficult for me to write. I won't bother you guys with my problems, but just do me a favor and always be there for your family, you never know when something bad can happen and you find yourself wishing there was more you could have done to be with them before they are lost forever.