Just a little something I thought of. Let me know what you think!

As Eragon heard the jeers and shouts of the men outside the citadel, all clamouring for his brother's blood, he fought desperately to think of a way to show them that they were wrong. To make them understand. Murtagh had been right. When he had found his brother in the North and persuaded the red rider to return, that it would be alright, he had fervently hoped it would be true. As it turned out, the people's minds were fixed not on forgiveness and understanding, but murderous wrath.

He heard a soft hum behind him as Saphira looked down at the little silver egg between her two front paws. This egg had not been given as a rider's egg, but would be one of the wild dragons. Eragon smiled in spite of himself. Seeing Saphira brooding over her first egg like a proud mother hen was enough to warm anyone's heart he was sure.

How dare you even think to compare me to those ridiculous feathered idiots? They aren't even proper birds! They can't even fly! Her voice rumbled, a disgruntled and offended note obvious in her tone.

I'm sorry, he thought, in an effort to placate her. He couldn't keep the amused smile from tugging at the corners of his lips however.

No you aren't. She sounded almost amused herself, like she was trying to cover it up. He walked to her side, placing a hand on her neck as she hummed contentedly. Eragon heard a small shuffle and a soft scrape, as the egg began to wobble.

It's hatching! Saphira exclaimed, torn between joy and anxiety. Eragon felt the presence of a swiftly approaching Firnen, who was not about to miss the hatching of the first of his offspring, the first free wild dragon to hatch in Alagaesia since before the fall of the riders.

Eragon waited with bated breath, suddenly oblivious to the noise outside. He felt rather than saw the green dragon enter the room, swiftly followed by Arya. A deadly hush fell over the group as they watched the egg wobble and roll slightly as the infant within pushed at the hard shell around it.

With a soft crack, the egg split, and a small silver dragon shook itself free of the shattered pieces. It gazed up at them all with soft grey eyes, looking at each of them in turn before it's eyes fell on Saphira. It reached up, rearing up on it's hind legs to stretch higher. She lowered her great blue snout to her hatchling, who bumped its small nose against her. Saphira gave a low hum of pleasure at the contact.

She's perfect Saphira. Arya whispered with her mind. They all could hear but she didn't want to startle the tiny dragon. It whipped round anyway, curious as to the origin of the mental contact. The little one's eyes fixed on the elf queen's face. Arya smiled, and allowed the silver dragon to tentatively reach out with its mind, as Eragon remembered Saphira doing with him so long ago in Carvahall. He felt the little one brush against his own thoughts, a speck of curiosity.

A roar of sound from outside broke through the thoughts of those gathered. Eragon straightened. Nasuada was going to try and address the crowds again he thought. He and Arya walked to the window, grim expressions on both of their faces.

"I should have let him leave," Eragon murmured.

"He didn't really want to, or he wouldn't have let you talk him into coming back," Arya replied, her lilting voice calm and sure.

"But how is this better? He is almost as much a prisoner now as he was before!" Eragon exclaimed, his anguish for his brother's fate clear in his voice.

"We all knew that for a time, this would be the case. And it wouldn't have made any difference if Murtagh faced this now or in 20 years time, the result would be the same. They just need to get used to the idea and all will be fine."

But what if it isn't. Eragon agonised over the possibility that this could all go horribly wrong.

He looked down to the balcony several stories below, where Nasuada stood, waiting for the noise levels to drop before she spoke. Her commanding presence, Eragon knew, would hush the crowds as they waited to hear what she had to say. Murtagh stood not far behind her, unlike the first time Nasuada had tried to speak to them, which meant that silence did not fall, but was at least reduced to a low angry hiss at his presence.

"I understand why you are all here," Nasuada began. "And I understand why you feel justified in your anger and your desire for Murtagh and Thorn's blood." Here the levels of noise rose again, but she waited until they dropped before continuing at her previous volume. "I am sure that if I were not fully aware of their situation and their struggles I would be as enraged as you are now. I therefore ask you to listen, and to hear my words on this most sensitive of matters, so that you might better understand the dragon and rider who you believe to be your foe."

The hiss died out as the crowd waited. Eragon listened as Nasuada described Murtagh's life from birth. Growing up with Morzan as his father, the cruelty and pain he was subjected to from an early age, the loss of his mother, his father's eventual death at the hands of Brom – a cheer went up at this point. Nasuada again paused for quiet. She went on to describe how Murtagh had escaped from Galbatorix's court, how he had lost his friend and companion Tornac, and how he had met Eragon. She spoke of how he and Eragon had rescued Arya, and travelled to the Varden.

Eragon could see where she was coming from. She was painting a picture of Murtagh as a hero, a man of renown. But with the things still to come in the tale, he wasn't sure how she could continue to portray this glowing image of the young man beside her, who stood stiff backed and wary as she spoke of the Twins' deception, and the pain of his tortures. He visibly flinched when she reminded the crowd how Galbatorix had performed similar tortures on her during her own imprisonment, and how she empathised with Murtagh and his plight. A shout went up then from an unknown member of the crowd, who called that Nasuada had never broken.

That was the moment that Eragon saw the answer as plain as day. He turned, looking back to the family of dragons within the room. He saw Saphira raise her head in question at his feeling of apprehension. What are you thinking little one? She asked him. He looked at the hatchling.

Can I borrow her? Just for a few minutes? I swear she won't come to any harm. I just want to make them understand. She saw the roots of his plan in his mind as he spoke to her. He hid nothing, knowing she needed to trust his idea for her to release the precious creature into his care, if only for a little while.

I will agree to this, but we are coming with you, Eragon. I am not letting her out of my sight. She puffed a small stream of smoke from her nostrils. Firnen looked up.

Guard her well, partner of Saphira's life and heart. We are trusting you to take good care of her.

I will, he thought, leaning down to cradle the little dragon in his arms.

He darted from the room then, carrying the wriggling creature in his arms as he moved to the nearest flight of stairs, skipping down them. He knew the dragons would meet him at the balcony. There was an entrance on the other side of the room big enough for them there, so they could stand beside Thorn and Murtagh as Nasuada and Eragon mounted their defence. Eragon stopped just inside the door, shushing the hatchling as it made a sound of surprise and annoyance at being jostled.

The crowd had become loud and unruly again, and Eragon could see that Nasuada was fighting an impossible battle. The people could not understand how Murtagh, a man, could not resist Galbatorix when she, a woman of fewer years, could. She could not make herself heard over the racket, and Murtagh looked pale and ready to bolt to the furthest point of Alagaesia that he could find. Eragon stepped out on to the balcony, brushing his shoulder against Murtagh's in a what he hoped the other rider perceived as a comforting gesture as he moved to stand with the leader of the Varden.

He whispered a spell that would magnify his voice, and spoke in a boom over the crowd. "Peace." The volume stunned the crowd into silence. Eragon spoke again before the shock wore off. "This is a dragon hatchling, the first daughter of Saphira and Firnen. A wild, unbounded dragon, such as none have seen in over a century. But just each of you imagine for a second that she was bonded to you. That she had hatched at the touch of your hand on her egg, and that you could feel her mind inside your own. She is tiny, helpless, and yours. The other half of your very heart and soul.

"When a rider and a dragon hatchling bond, there is an instant need in the heart of the rider to protect the dragon. To put all else aside in the pursuit of taking care of the one who will share their life from that moment on. It is a powerful thing, the love between a dragon and a rider. And it grows with time, as the dragon grows and becomes more aware of what it means to be a dragon."

Here Eragon paused, noting the way in which his audience stared at the infant in his arms, enthralled by the picture he was weaving for them. He lowered his voice slightly as he continued. "Imagine feeling that, and knowing that life would not be worth living if you were to lose your companion. A dragon and a rider are one whole cohesive unit. The link runs to the core of each of them. Each would feel the thoughts and feelings of the other. Now imagine yourself, with your newly hatched dragon, in the clutches of Galbatorix. A man who has already tortured you to the point of wanting to give in. Knowing the pain that he could and would inflict on the partner of your heart, who is but a tiny creature, with no understanding of what was happening to it or why. Imagine feeling that pain and fear and confusion as your own." Eragon watched as many of the faces in the crowd became horrified as the listened, all the while staring at the silver dragon he held.

Eragon felt Saphira's anguish at the very thought as she imagined his and Murtagh's positions reversed. She herself had once said that she would give herself up to save him, and he knew that he would have done the same for her if he thought it would save her.

"I tell you these things because I want you to understand," Eragon said. "Murtagh held his own against the King, and would have continued to do so, whatever the King threw at him, or die in the attempt. But he could not let Thorn, his innocent hatchling, suffer. He could do naught but give himself up then, though he knew that they could be enslaved until their deaths. Anything to make it all stop, if only for a little while. He did not want to be Galbatorix's warrior. He did not want to do all of the things he did. Hrothgar, Oromis, Glaedr, kidnapping Nasuada, fighting me. He hated all of those things. He hated Galbatorix for making him do them, and he hated himself for doing it. He and Thorn have known nothing but suffering their whole time together.

"But at the last, when they changed enough to alter their true names and break free of their forced oaths to the King, they acquitted themselves admirably. Without them, I would not have been able to defeat Galbatorix, and he would have not one rider and dragon under him, but two, for when he invaded my mind I would have been lost. Were it not for the bravery of Murtagh and Thorn." At this, Eragon turned and motioned his brother to move forward to stand beside him. Eragon half smiled at him.

"Nasuada and I are not foolish enough to believe that you can forgive them immediately for all the things that they did. What we ask is that you understand why they did them, and perhaps remember that things are not as they always appear. My father was Brom, a rider from before the fall, but who, for my entire life, was just the village storyteller. I hear you call me "Shadeslayer" as I walk past in the streets. I hear the bards tell tales of me and Saphira as mighty heroes. But just last year, I was a boy, living on a farm in a village far away.

"Who we are is not decided by our actions alone. Our intentions and our bonds help to make us. Will you let Murtagh and Thorn stay? Will you let them help to rebuild the lands so that all might flourish? And when your anger gets the better of you, and you feel all the wrongs that they did you are fresh again, will you then remember this little dragon? And remember that all Murtagh did, he did for the love of Thorn, so that his partner might not suffer at the hands of a madman? And will you remember that, if not for them, Saphira and I could so easily have fallen as well?"

Eragon stopped then, and waited with baited breath for the response. It was a long time coming. At last, there was a sound of assent from somewhere in the crowd. It was swiftly followed by another, and another, until the courtyard was teaming with sound again. Only this time, the anger was dimmed, and not directed at the red rider and his dragon, but at the dead King who had so wronged them all.

Eragon breathed a sigh of relief, and heard Nasuada and Murtagh do the same. He looked to Murtagh fully then, and saw that some of the colour had returned to his skin. He quickly mouthed the spell that would return his voice to its normal level. "I almost didn't think that was going to work!" he laughed slightly, as they stepped back, and Nasuada again began to speak. They tuned out her placations to the crowd. She was just assuring them of the truth in Eragon's words he knew, and he didn't need to hear them.

"I didn't either. I thought Thorn and me were going to have to make a dash for it in the night," Murtagh admitted. "Thank you. I knew they would never understand if Nasuada tried to explain the bond between a dragon and a rider. She's never felt it. But you have, so you know what it means to be a rider." He glanced down at the hatchling. "When did she hatch?" he reached out to touch the dragon's head, but paused to look at Saphira, who was watching them like a hawk. At her nod, he lowered his hand, smiling softly when the small dragon bumped its snout against his palm.

"Not long before Nasuada started. She had impeccable timing."

"That she did. Thank you again Eragon. And thank you Saphira and Firnen, for letting my brother attempt his half mad scheme!" The two dragons hummed contentedly.

At that moment, Thorn moved forward placing his scaly snout close to the hatchling. And thank you, little one, he said, projecting his thoughts so the others nearby could hear them, for being here to help Eragon explain. The silver dragon stared at Thorn unblinkingly for a few moments, before looking back to where Saphira stood, then up at Eragon, who still held her. He crouched, allowing her to clamber to the floor and run back to her mother.

And to think, thought Saphira, that really you fought for the same thing. For the love of a dragon.

There we go. It was just a thought in my head that wouldn't let me be until I had written it.