Hey everyone! This is my new Eragon story!

(Of course, I don't own Eragon, it belongs to Christopher Paolini, sadly.) =P

I hope you all like it! Please don't flame, but constructive criticism is accepted of course! I have quite a bit of plot in my head for this story, so I don't think I'm going to give it up anytime soon. Thanks to DiexGaaf for MAKING me think of this plot! I hope no one is too OOC, and everything shall be explained in good time! Sorry for any grammar mistakes, I'm only human! Don't worry, she won't be a mary sue! Well, I hope not! XD

So, review and I shall update! XD ^_^

(Recommended song: Angels -Within Temptation)

Enjoy!

Black. That was all she could see in her cell. There were no windows; the only light coming into the expanse of the jail cell was the light shining from the flickering flame of the candle in the middle of the hallway. In one of the cots that was against the wall on the right side, all one could see due to the darkness was the outline of a petite woman with the build made for stealth and silent movement. She tensed hearing a commotion in the closed doorway entering the jail, the shuffling and cursing of whom she assumed to be, another jail mate being locked in. She winced when the locks of the jail door unlocked with a shrieking sound, and then it opened with a loud clang. The cursing got closer and she realized that the newly appointed person to the jail would have to dwell in the same cell as hers because all the others were filled.

The guards slowly made their way into the hallway in front of her cell door, dragging the man behind them. Tossing him in, still cursing, they bid her luck with her new cell-mate and taunted her, pretending that they cared for her virtue. The man slowly rose himself up from the ground and proceeded to occupy the empty cot on the other side of the cell. From the darkness, she could see he had shoulder length dark pigmented hair and was very muscular. She could feel his angry and tense aura radiating off of him, so she decided not to aggravate him and keep silent until he decided he wanted to talk.

After a few minutes, he ran his hand through his hair and turned his head towards the petite woman. He scoffed and muttered to himself before talking to her, seemingly because he had nothing else to do; or so she perceived by his monotone voice.

"Why are you here?" She noted the way his deep voice put shivers down her spine.

"Stealing," She chose not to tell him the whole truth on the matter; it is not like anyone would care about a poor thief girl that happened to get caught.

An awkward silence enveloped the cell-mates. Frowning to herself, she decided to put an end to the silence that devoured the cell.

"And, why are you here?" She cautiously asked him while at the same time she hoped he would not snap and get angry at her.

"Getting betrayed and caught."

"Oh." 'Well, that certainly was a pleasantly long conversation.' She thought to herself as she audibly sighed, frustrated at herself for making it even more awkward than it was before.

"What is your name?" She jumped at the question; she was surprised he even asked anything at all.

"Wisk." She could hear his deep chuckle and shivered, it sounded so malicious in the darkness.

"So, Lady Wisk," he began mockingly, "how long have you been locked in this jail cell?" Frowning to herself, she counted the scratches she could barely see etched onto the floor, thanks to the darkness of the cell. Three parallel marks displayed the answer to his question.

"Three days." 'And three more until I die.' She angrily thought to herself as she heard a faint sound of acknowledgment come from the boy.

"How old are you?" He asked her quite a few questions and had yet to answer any, so she proceeded to point this out to him.

He paused for a moment, in thought.

"My name is Murdvig, and I am nineteen."

"So, since we are both seemingly stuck here for a while, why not make a truce and be friends?" She suggested; making a friend was on her list of things to do before she died.

She tensed hearing the sounds of a jail door being unlocked and sighed, seeing the guard that always brought her food. She slowly rose from her cot and walked towards the bars and silently hoped to herself that he wouldn't address her rudely as he had always done. His light blond hair, and green eyes would probably have any girl swooning at his feet, but she would never stoop so low. Especially, since she had always known about his relentless perverted tendencies and his desire to bed anything that had breasts.

"Hey there, pretty lady." Her shoulders drooped in aggravation; he never ceased to annoy her to no end. He bent toward the floor with her tray and slowly slid it towards her.

"So, do I get a reward for saving your hungry stomach?" He maliciously grinned at her and grabbed her left wrist as it was reaching for the tray. He used her wrist to pull her towards his body and mockingly put a sad frown on his face.

"What? No kiss? Do you not want to lose your first kiss before you die?" His eyes put a fearsome look into him as they dilated in madness. He angrily squeezed her wrist, seeing her flinch in pain as he yelled at her, "I am talking to you, wench! Answer me!"

She shut her mouth, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of hearing her cry out, which only made him squeeze that much harder on her wrist. She could feel the bones screaming in protest to his manhandling and averted her eyes from his, staring at his belt.

"I would appreciate it if you stopped manhandling my friend." The guard let go abruptly, not expecting anyone to share the cell with her. She could see Murdvig moving towards her from her peripheral vision and stole a quick glance at his glaring face before the guard started stammering in fear.

"Mur-Mur-Mur-" He quickly cut himself off as he grabbed a second tray, slid it next to the first one, and ran out of the jail; quivering in fear.

Sighing in relief, she gently rubbed her reddening wrist and flinched when she hit a particularly sore spot.

"Here, let me." He took her wrist and started to wrap a piece of discolored cloth around it, probably from the cot, she thought to herself. She looked closely at him and started blushing, he was extremely handsome with shaggy black hair, but that did not describe the sadness and emptiness lingering behind his gray eyes. She then shivered, not out of fear, but the feel of his rough, warm hands enveloping her small ones. Feeling awkwardness envelope the cell, she averted her eyes and slipped her hand out of his once he finished his task, mumbling a sincere thank you.

"Thanks, Mur-Mur-Mur." She laughed and he let out a deep chuckle, which didn't scare her like the last sinister chuckle once did.

"Don't want the young lady harmed now, do I?" She smiled at him gratefully and then gasped in shock as a soldier in all black armor appeared on the other side of the cell; he was so quiet she never even noticed him enter. He pointed at Murdvig and then opened the gate, expecting him to step out. Once Murdvig took notice of the guard, he backed away from her and with a last nod at her; stepped out and followed the guard out of the cell.

A few hours after the guard took Murdvig away, Myra lay in her cot staring at the ceiling, thinking of all the things she had done to get her sent to the castle. Her main concern was about the king and his big head. He believes that because he has the dragon eggs, and he, being a "high and mighty king", should have no concern about the eggs' well being. In his mindset, who in their right mind will try to steal something of his?

'Me, of course.' She sardonically thought to herself as she wiped away the few tears that managed to streak down her face. She was upset, just realizing she might never get to see any of her family or friends ever again. Who in their right mind wouldn't be upset about that? She sighed happily, realizing she may have an ally in Murdvig. Not knowing why, she felt as if she could put all of her trust into him, and they just only met.

Closing her eyes for a quick nap, she jumps slightly hearing the jail door creak open. Quickly opening her eyes again, her jaw drops in shock as she sees a guard dragging in Murdvig's body. Seeing the guard start to open the cell door, she quickly stands up and catches Murdvig's seemingly lifeless body and proceeds to drag him to his cot as quickly as she could without aggravating his wounds. Turning around to look at the guard, she could see him drop a roll of bandages and ointment on the floor as he grinned at her.

"Take care of your little boyfriend now." He giggled stupidly and walked out after locking her cell.

"Oh Murdvig, what did they do to you?" She sadly asked the unconscious boy as she started to peel the bloodied tunic off of his clammy body.

She gasped in shock seeing all the blood on him. He had a well muscled chest, but she flipped him over to examine his back. It was covered in deep slashes that were oozing blood. Thinking quickly, she took the sheet off her cot and bit it, wincing at the disgusting taste it put in her mouth. Promptly ripping the sheet into any size usable, she dipped a few pieces into the cup of water she hadn't finished, and quickly used the wet cloth to wipe the blood off his body and press down on a few wounds. Successfully wiping the blood off those few wounds she quickly applied the ointment and used the bandages the guard gave her to wrap them up. Once she finished using up all the ointment and bandages, she saw that there was only one more slash mark on his back. Deciding to take a risk, she breathed deep and put her hand over the mark.

"Waíse heill!" She muttered and sighed in relief once she saw the glow of the spell start to work on his wound. She realized she was lucky that those two words were one of the few Ancient Language words she knew.

After successfully healing his wound, she promptly passed out.