AN: Hey guys. This is my first fanfic so please bear with me. Set in IC universe but very different. Please rate and review. All comments will be appreciated.

"HALT!"; ordered Eragon, prince of Carvahall and 1st commander of the Cavalry forces of Carvahall, as he and the troopers of the three squadrons accompanying them crested the knoll.

Prince Eragon was 17, young in years, but experienced in combat he was one of the last few men of the northern Kingdom of Palancar Valley in whose veins the blood of the Grey Folk ran undiluted. Raised by his uncle, King Garrow, a strict disciplinarian but a much beloved ruler and by Brom, his mentor, a former Shrutugaal and General of all of the forces of Carvahall, Eragon and his cousin Roran had become formidable men skilled in the art of war and in battle tactics. While Eragon favoured cavalry, his cousin because of his bulkier build favoured heavy infantry. Both cousins were however trained to be able to fight both on horseback and on foot. Roran preferred maces, hammers and morningstars "easier to bash through the toughest skull" as he put it while Eragon was a master swordsman. Ambidextrous and widely acknowledged to be the best, Eragon was also a gifted spellcaster. Eragon or some reason was as fast and strong as an elf in both magic and combat and thus had risen through the ranks rather quickly, his royalty notwithstanding. The men of the northern kingdom were much stronger in both combat and spellcasting than the rest of their peers. Indeed they had a much greater no of spellcasters than any other member state of the Varden except ofcourse the elves. Most scholars agreed that the legacy of the Grey Folk was the main reason behind this rather interesting fact.

They had been three days out of their frontier posts on a massive sweep involving three different groups, each comprising of two squadrons of heavy chevaliers (80 men) and one squadron of hobilars (skirmish cavalry), when Eragon's scouts and stumbled upon a large band of Urgals who had apparently raided the village of Yazuac and where travelling towards Gillead.

"Form ranks, I want an two arrowhead formations; points me and Stannis. Twelve men wide. The rest of you chevaliers ride in two lines abreast. Hobilars, split into two ant take the flanks. The arrowheads will smash through their lines and lancewall will sweep the remaining. Hold! HOLD!Three, two, one NOOOW!"

The chevaliers immediately formed up while the hobilars immediately spurred away to engage the enemy and keep their attention diverted from the main assault group. Once the men had formed up, Eragon led them at the trot the optimum distance for the charge to be most effective.

"With me! CHARRGE!" Eragon leaned into his saddle, putting his rowels to Snowfire he led the charge, his lance pointed at the enemy lines. Looking about, he saw his men in formation, so far so good.

They were only 40 paces from the rampaging urgals, their ranks already in chaos as the hobilars hurled javelins and war darts into their midst. Twenty paces, ten paces. Contact.

Eragon's lance buried itself through two, no three urgals. Unsheathing his longsword Eragon cleaved through his enemies. Taking care to completely sweep the emeny ranks before regrouping for another charge. He suddenly found his free from the swirling mass of neighing horses and screaming urgals. He turned around and realised that a second pass would not be necessary. The enemy was routed. The few surviving urgals were scattering to the four winds. He let them go.

"Regroup! Form up. Stannis ! Stannis!Report " Eragon yelled to draw the attention of his second in command.

"Yes sir. No casualties on our side. 90-100 urgals dead. About a dozen made it alive. Orders!"

"Let them be. We'll head back on our route. Its five days before we return and I don't want to be late for the Elven Egg Bearers", said Eragon. He had turned seventeen in the month of February that year and was therefore eligible to be allowed to touch blue dragon egg that was the only hope of the free people of Alagaesia. He had always hoped to be a Dragon Rider ever since Brom told him of the story of the Fall and Galbatorix's rise. He imagined himself holding his sword high perched proudly on dragon back slaying unknown enemies and killing the black tyrant himself. Smirking, he led his men on their wayback.

A week later.

This was it. The moment of his destiny. Eragon couldn't help but fervently wished that the blue egg would hatch for him but he couldn't help thinking that his chances were rather slim. The egg had remained steadfastly inanimate in the 80 odd years since the Varden stole it from the Empire. And why should it hatch for him, a mere human. No certainly it won't but whats the harm in trying?

As Eragon finally reached the egg, he stole a glance at the beautiful elf who guarded it. Arya was her name and every tome Eragon saw her, his heart gave a flutter. They had talked before but Eragon couldn't help but feel inconsequential in front of her perfection. No matter his royalty, his skill with the blade or on horseback, he felt like a mere peasant in the presence of her dignitas.

Bringing his attention back to the enchanting blue egg that somehow seem to be pulsing with energy, Eragon cautiously lifted his right hand and touched the egg. It was cool to the touch and yet a warm tingle seemed to pass into his hand. As he kept his contact, the tingling sensation seemed to magnify and spread until it seemed that his whole body was covered with a warm glow.

A resounding crack was heard and the egg wobbled. As more fine lines appeared, Eragon was dumbstruck. It can't be happening can it, not to me of all people! But it seemed fate had smiled on him atlast, or had it?

The eggshell finally exploded outward and everyone but Eragon, who was too shocked to do anything, ducked. On top of the table was a beautiful blue dragon with impossibly enticing blue sapphire eyes.

Yes, sapphire are what her eyes are. Eragon reached out and touched her snout. A blinding flash appeared and Eragon yelped as his hand went numb from the jolt of pain. Looking at his palm, he saw the Gedwey Ignasia, the silvery oval sheen on his hand marking him as Argetlam.

As the assembled cheered and applauded for the new rider Eragon could think of only one thing as he stared into the Sapphire blue eyes of the dragon curled in his arms. Sapphire. Sapphire, I shall name you Saphira.