I'm not sure how long we stayed there, each of us surveying the other. It was small, no larger than a Terrier, and despite my fear I could not help but marvel at the mythical beauty of the little creature before me. It was covered in gleaming, purple scales, only a shade or so lighter than the egg from which it had hatched. Long, sharp spines ran along it's length, from top to tail, and it's newly opened eyes glittered like black gems in it's intricately detailed face. I felt myself being drawn into those eyes, wondering if I was simply imagining the intelligence that shone from their depths.

Slowly, for even though it was newly hatched I could not be sure how safe I was around this creature, I lowered myself from my bed and made my way over to the hatchling. I held out a hand for it to sniff, the way one would do when approached by a strange dog, and it breathed in my scent, it's eyes never leaving my face.

I slowly began to relax, and I crouched down so that I was level with it and reached my hand to the crown of it's head to pet it. As soon as I did so, I felt an excruciating burning sensation shooting up my right arm. It gripped every fibre of my being and I gasped in fear and agony as the paralysis took over my entire body. I lay flat on the floor, my paralysed vocal chords preventing me from crying out for help. The dragon looked at me, curiously, before losing interest and crawling clumsily and awkwardly towards my dressing table.

Then, as suddenly as the burning sensation had come upon me, it was gone, and I sat upright slowly, testing out each of my limbs. Satisfied that I had not suffered any real damage, I pushed myself to my feet, noticing as I did so that my hand had been badly burned where it had come into contact with the dragon's skin. Looking closer, I saw that it was in the shape of a distorted and broken spiral, a most unusual mark. I cursed inwardly, wondering how I would hide this from my father.

I froze at this thought. My father. As much as I loved him, as I was duty-bound to do as his daughter, I did not always agree with him. I would even go as far as to say my father and I disagreed on most everything, from politics to music. However, the area in which we disagreed most, was my father's undying devotion to his King, Galbatorix.

As one of the richest and most powerful men in the land, my father was naturally in good standing with the King, but the fact that his beliefs and goals matched the Kings' meant that he was his leading supporter in the war against the Varden.

I, however, despised King Galbatorix with every fibre of my being. My father knew this, but he ignored my rants, putting them all down to teenage angst, I imagine.

But now this. Everybody knew that there was only one more dragon in existence, and it belonged to the warrior, Eragon Shadeslayer. If my father found that he had made me a gift of one, he would surely hand it over to the King. I looked over at the innocent little creature who was currently eating my best powder puff. I knew that even in the short time I had spent with it, I could not bear for it to be exploited for Galbatorix's own ends. No, I would not allow it to happen. But how could I keep it a secret? I was pretty sure someone would notice if I was keeping a dragon in my room.

I racked my brain, trying to think of a solution, but there was a buzzing in my head that was making this impossible. No…not a buzzing…a humming. It's difficult to explain how I knew, it was more instinct than intellect, but I knew in my gut that this noise was coming from the dragon. But it was inside my head. And the dragon was busy chewing a mouthful of white powder puff.

I shook my head, trying to rid myself of these unnecessary dwellings and concentrate on the problem at hand, but it was no use. Eventually, I decided to sleep on it. I sighed and approached the dragon, cautiously at first, but when it turned to look at me with white powder all over it's little face, I laughed out loud and all fear towards the creature was expelled.

I reached out a testing hand, letting my fingers come into contact with the scales on the side of the dragon's head, but quickly pulling away again, the ugly scar on my palm a reminder of the pain I had been in not five minutes ago.

But the pain did not come. I reached out again, this time letting my hand rest on the crown of it's head, smiling as it nuzzled my palm affectionately.

"You must be hungry." I muttered, before picking the little creature up and laying him gently on my bed. "Stay here. I'll go and fetch you something to eat from the larder. Just…please don't burn my house down while I'm gone. That would be at the top of the list of 'Things that will get us killed'. Be good…dragon." I finished awkwardly, realising that I had not yet named it. This was not made any easier by the fact that I did not know whether it was male or female.

I pondered this on my way down to the larder and decided that I would call it Puff for the time being, in honour of it's earlier antics with my make-up. Although I knew that it was not a name befitting of such a noble creature, it would just have to do until I had time to think about it properly.

I returned to my bedchamber laden with food, from our finest cuts of meat to the freshly imported fruit that my sister loved so much. I passed a guard on my way up the stairs and he cocked an eyebrow at me, questioningly. I smiled, embarrassedly, and mumbled something about being hungry, before climbing the rest of the way at an increased pace. When I returned to my room, it was to find the dragon curled up at the foot of my bed, asleep. As I watched it lying there, completely innocent and trusting, I realised that something was happening to me, something strange and foreign…and it was at that moment that I realised how much trouble I was really in. I had been with the dragon for less than an hour and already I was falling in love with it.

AN: I don't know if I like this chapter or if it could do with a rewrite…please review and let me know what you think.