Hey guys! Yet another story from yours truly! But until I get my other two done, this story won't be updated frequently.

Well, I have to thank Tamerlain85 for this story's title! Thank you!

Now, the journey of Raised in Hell begins!

His brown, choppy hair whipped to the side as he frantically flung his hand across his sweat beaded brow. The teen's chestnut eyes scoured behind him to see if he was being followed; whilst panting like a dog on a hot summer day, he increased his speed as he envisioned the clatter of armor from the guards. Cursing his luck to all the gods above, the fifteen year-old leapt from the ground to the top of one of the grand chandeliers that was hanging from the Main Corridor. Smirking triumphantly about how easily he avoided their detection, he looked downwards and caught a glimpse of his assailants. Four Empire soldiers, clad in glittering golden tunics emphasizing the Empire of which they served, proceeded down from where he had been running from. The teen resigned himself to hiding in the fancy fixture as the Empire guards stood, frowning in confusion and bewilderment of their escapees location. confused about were their escapee went

"Blast it, the king will have our heads if we can't find that brat," a man garbed in the finest silver armor swore. The brown-eyed teen, who seemed to be the source of the guards' confusion, knew that it was Vándr, the head guard of the castle. They never really saw eye-to-eye.

Another soldier whistled them over to another spot location further down the hallway. The men quickly ran over to their comrade, their armor clanking the entire time before it to faded to nothingness. That sound always annoyed his ears.

Carefully examining his surroundings, he murmured phrases in the Ancient Language. "Sjá útan." See beyond. Immediately, the magic sapped the energy from his limbs like a tick, creating an increase of his fatigue. But it didn't kill him, thankfully.

The spell quickly took effect. His eyes focused-in towards the Empire scum he had been searching for. They were checking in the rooms where the nobles slept when they visited the citadel of Uru'baen, thinking he ducked out down there. Nearly falling off the chandelier, he once again knew that Galbatorix hired idiots. But be thankful for dear old dad's poor judgment in employees, he thought to himself, completely amused, I wouldn't be able to escape otherwise.

As quietly as he could, he quickly released his cramped fingers from the light fixture's golden loops, and therefore, again, uniting with gravity and hit the marble floor. He landed with a small thud. He looked to-and-fro, heart racing, he making sure that nothing, even a mouse, had heard the small noise. To his relief, there was nothing but a small draft.

Releasing a breath, he didn't know he'd been holding, the boy swiftly picked himself up again. Then his escape continued, he raced through the numerous passageways that left many servants lost, the escapee finally found what he had been looking for.

A small window, about a few feet above his head, this opening rekindled the hope that had coursed through his heart when he first thought of freedom. The one thing that eluded him even when Eragon used all of his abilities. The one thing he'd longed for.

Ahhh.. Freedom. It had been so long away and that it had been tantalizing.

But soon, he knew that, the hunger in his being would be appeased.

Gathering up both his waning strength and fraying nerve, he launched himself toward his exit. He felt the cold stonehug his finger-tips, as he gripped the tiny ledge with as much force as he could muster, which was dwindling indeed, which was evident to his trembling limbs.

Climbing up the wall, he slowly pushed his feet out of the hole in the wall. Then he heaved himself out.

The scent of fresh air smeared his nose. A breath-taking whiff of the impossible, and it had been done. He inhaled it deeply, as he never knew how long the smell could last. Bright sunlight shattered upon the courtyard radiating in shards of brilliance and bathed all in warmth. He almost forgot where he was. Almost.

His instinctual drive brought him swiftly back to his senses. He briefly, but thoroughly, scanned his surroundings.

There was a long brick fence surrounding the king's castle, with guard towers marking every entrance to Galbatorix's home. Using the spell that lengthened his vision once again, he scanned the posts, evidently delighted afterwards to find them empty. Relieved, the boy nearly whopped for joy at finally making it this far. He put a shaky hand through his sweat enveloped hair, but then realized that he was still exposed.

Shaking his head as if to clear it from a haze, his feet pounded the grass as he made his way to the final threshold separating him from long-awaited freedom. Caution still clouded over his mind, but the boy tried his best to suppress the uneasiness. That independence was so close that he could almost taste it. But the sensation was short-lived; cruel fate had seemed to have striked again.

With a yell that came out of nowhere, the Empire soldiers appeared out of the brush, wielding swords and crossbows alike. Gritting his teeth over what had been inches from his grasp, he turned to meet his opponents.

"Put your hands up!" yelled a man from behind a thick bush. The attempted escapee could not recognize who its owner was. It was just another face in a nameless crowd of strangers.

But nevertheless, he complied to the soldiers' commands. He raised both his hands in defeat above his head, whilst cursing the very name of the Empire. For now, the boy knew, I once again have to endure my own personal prison.

Four of the guard came up to him and nudged him forward. Unfortunately, Vándr was among the men. He whipped across the prince's face with the hilt of his sword. He whispered into the teen's ear,

"You nearly cost me both my position and my life, you ungrateful little worm," rasped the foaming soldier.

The escapee already knew that Vándr was moments away from losing control of his anger, but his mocking side got the better of his judgment.

"At least you are not living in my position." Hatred danced upon his face, and then propelled the spittle and blood which had gathered among the side of his mouth, straight to Vandr's face.

Roaring in hostility, Vándr made aim with his weapon towards the back of the boy's neck. For the first time that day, a cold shiver ran down the escapee's spine as the familiar scar was grazed.

As a crossbow was jammed into his back, the teen went back inside his 'home'. As if, Eragon thought with a growl, a prison, even a beautiful one, is still a prison.

Again, as if retracing his steps, the five made their way back into Galbatorix's chambers. The guards pushed him to his knees and closed the heavy oak door behind them.

The cold voice of his adopted father killed the silence that hung over the room like a storm cloud. "I see that you've returned to your rightful place, my son." the voice purred, dripping with fake relief. It nearly made the teen sick with the sound of it.

He swallowed the bile at the back of his throat. Coldly, the escapee whipped around to see the king standing right behind him. Unlike most, the teen raised his head to meet the glare of Galbatorix.

Baring his teeth like an enraged wolf, the boy spoke "I am not your anything. I am Eragon, I am and always will be."

I hope this beginning was good! Please review if it was!

Review Question: Was this okay?

Dragon Out!