Okay, this is perhaps my most ambitious project yet. It's been percolating in my head on and off for about a year, possibly more. The idea is, I take likely pairs from anywhere and everywhere and stick them in the Inheritance universe as upcoming dragon riders. As it stands, Eragon left Alagaesia to parts undiscovered to re found the dragon riders, and that leaves plenty of room for adventure and random mishaps.

I foresee the involvement of many genre's and existing characters, so credit where it is due of course. I do not own the Inheritance Cycle nor How to Train Your Dragon or Yu-Gi-Oh!

Eragon strolled through the quiet hatchery in a mood of mild nostalgia, thinking of when he'd first laid eyes on Saphira's egg. The poor simple farm boy he'd been been back then could not have even begun to fathom the places he'd go, the thing's he'd do, just by simply touching what he'd thought was a rock. It had looked like a beautiful blue and white veined rock. Still, with all the knowledge of the pain and tears he'd shed in the Varden war, he'd still reach out and touch that precious egg. He'd felt the need to keep it even then, not even knowing that it held the life of his greatest most dearest friend inside.

Eragon shook off the old memories with a fond, though slightly grieved smile taking a moment to bask in the comfort Saphira offered immediately.

You are in the hatchery again, she thought to him in a distinctly teasing tone. Little one, should I be jealous?

Yes Saphira, he answered, playing along. I am Eragon after all, I think a white Dragon would suit me better.

Good luck finding the materials for a new sword, was her tart reply. Last I checked, Brisingr is blue, and I don't think the blade would take too kindly to being painted over.

Alas, paint is flammable, Eragon agreed in mock disappointment.

Indeed it is! Saphira sent back with altogether too much glee.

Saphira? Eragon inquired with alarm.

Nothing, little one, the dragon returned with suspicious haste.

Saphira.

Oh, its far too late to do anything about it now anyway, she conceded. I'll let you see the memory later.

Good girl.

I can squish you, she gave him a fond mental growl before turning her attention back to her meal.

Eragon turned his attention back to the dim hatchery, mood sobering a little. He was currently standing in the main room where row upon row of unbonded dragon eggs sat waiting quietly to meet their best friends. These were the newest generation. Some of them even belonged to Saphira and Firnen though they only saw each other rarely. Originally, this room had housed the vault eggs, but with time, the dragons had hatched and bonded with a rider, and the next generation of eggs followed a few years after that building until they outnumbered the vault dragons. So the new generation had been moved forward to account for numbers and the remaining vault eggs now occupied the small back room, where Eragon was headed at the moment.

It had been over fifty years since the defeat of Galbatorix and his nightmare regime, and five of the vault dragon's remained stubbornly unhatched. Eragon pushed the door open and was unsurprised to find Professor Solomon Moto sitting on the floor with a ring of books scrolls and papers stacked around him in a seemingly haphazard manner. When the man wasn't teaching, he was in here 'keeping the poor lonely souls company.'

"Eragon," the man greeted happily enough, though his very presence betrayed his worry for the five unhatched dragons in the room. "I thought you'd be coming by today."

Eragon sighed heavily and sat down with the professor. "They will hatch," he said quietly.

Solomon glanced up from a decrepit history tome. "I know they will," he answered. "I cannot help but worry about their mental health. It's been hundred's of years Eragon. No creature should ever be trapped in a prison of their own bodies for so long. Even the dragon hearts agree and the oldest have gone to join their riders now that the threat to Alagaesia has passed. We know for a fact that they're all aware. Every single one of them."

"I know Solomon," Eragon said softly. "Believe me, I know."

He glanced at the table where the last five vault eggs were on careful display. Two were black, one veined with midnight blue, the other in violent red. One was a light blue veined in yellow and the forth was a gleaming white veined in blue. Eragon always hesitated at the last one. It stood out to him for some reason. It was an oddly metallic golden egg veined in purple/black depending on the lighting, and just by looking at it, he could almost swear he could feel anger coming off it in waves. Perhaps that one should remain unhatched. The more time he spent around it, the closer he came to this conclusion. He could only hope, that whoever this dragon was, he turned out to be a force for good.