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Saphira glided over the Edda River in silent reflection of the day's events. A faint shadow, cast by the moon light, mirrored her form from the river's surface, matching every move as she continued her easterly flight. A great expanse stretched before her as far her eyes could see. The night was quiet, save for the gentle flutter of her wings, and the air cool as she rode its currents rising from the river below.

She'd begun her flight shortly after their departure from Hedarth, but before leaving had invited Eragon to come along; however, he'd declined, leaving her with a tinge of sadness. She'd looked forward to the opportunity to go flying with him again; they'd spent so little time together in the days following her meet with Firnen. Although it disappointed her she reasoned that he simply needed time alone to think so, with a flap of her wings, she'd reluctantly leapt from the main deck of the Talita, banking east to embark on her patrol flight without him.

Lifting her maw slightly she sniffed the air, sampling both new and familiar scents. Among them she searched for the faintest hint of potential danger, instead she found only the scent of cool air mixed with damp soil and the spicy-sweet fragrance of woodsy underbrush that grew along the outermost edge of the river's banks. She panned her head left to right, casually gazing along the river's shores, perhaps to find something of interest or to catch glimpse of an unsuspecting intruder hiding behind one of the many dense patches of foliage littering the region. She neither smelled nor saw anything to cause alarm, the quiet of night and reflective thoughts her only companions as she flew.

She, like Eragon, was curious about the new region they were entering, having never before ventured beyond the boundaries of Alagasia. However, despite the fact that the threat of Galbatorix, and his surviving followers, was now behind them she still felt a lingering compulsion to keep alert for danger if for no other reason that Eragon accompanied her; a foregone conclusion that wherever he was trouble was bound to find him. With a final sniff Saphira released an approving growl, eliciting a faint echo from the night. Righting her head she entertained the possibility that she was being just a little over cautious but, with a snort, abruptly dismissed the notion as absurd. It was too soon following the war's end, too soon for her to abandon the training and intense conditioning brought about from a life spent evading threats and fending off immediate danger to herself, all the while keeping Eragon safe.

Perhaps one day. She thought, indulging the future possibility of a more relaxed posture; however, now was not the time, nor the place, for it.

Sensing her connection to Eragon falter Saphira banked round into a wide turn, taking her back the way she'd come. When the connection steadied she banked round again, resuming her easterly flight, then slowed her speed to remain at its threshold; enough to maintain it but not so much as to sever it completely.

Fixing her eyes to the glittering river outstretched before her she considered their journey with silent regard. She wondered what it might be like and who they would encounter along the way. Her mind began to team with questions, such as: Would they encounter new or familiar races and, if so, would they be friendly or hostile? Would they chance upon other dragons? What would their new home be like and how long would it take to reach it?

Saphira's stomach stirred in a hollow rumble, interrupting her thoughts. It occurred to her that she'd not eaten since the day before; however, now was not the best time to hunt. Ignoring her stomach's protest she instead decided the following day a better time. She hoped the region would have more to offer than mere birds or fish; hardly a fitting meal for a dragon.

Hmmm ... I wonder what kind of prey there will be to eat in our new home. She thought, licking her chops.

A sudden rustle broke the almost eerie silence of night causing Saphira to jerk her head about just in time to see a flock of large, blue-grey birds take flight in a mad rush, as if frightened by her proximity. Cocking her head slightly she watched with an almost detached interest as they flew into the distance; their vast wing spans flapping in unison, triggering in her the latent memory of a time when dragons ruled the skies in droves.

Righting her head she considered the dragon eggs they carried with them; a symbol of the tangible hope that one day the skies would once again be filled with her kind. Looking ahead to that day she imagined herself as queen of the sky, in flight surrounded by an expanse of clear blue, accompanied by a multitude of her kin painting the canvas of azure in a myriad of green, gold, red, blue, black and white. In the image she saw herself ascending high into the deep azure, releasing a triumphant bugle, eliciting a concert of roars in response; the birth cry of an all but lost race once again restored. With a gentle flap of her wings Saphira closed her eyes, smiling inwardly at the thought as her chest gently vibrated in a low hum. Her body shook with a tremor of excitement, ruffling her scales which, in turn, reflected the moon light in a dance of glittering, sapphire sparkles.

Indulging her ecstasy she thrust her wings in a mighty rush sending her with a spiral toward the clear star-lit sky; her heart swelling with pride. Not only would she see day of her race's return she would have a part in its emergence. Within the many eggs they carried were dragons, a number of which were destined to riders, enchanted to hatch only upon sensing their rider's presence. Upon hatching each would fall under the care of its chosen rider. However, the remaining eggs were those of wild dragons, entrusted to the order prior its fall. In each lay an un-hatched dragon, dormant, even now awaiting the day it would emerge. To these Saphira would serve as surrogate dam, tending a nest fashioned by her until the day they hatched. Soon after their emergence she would give each a name and teach them to hunt and fly. She would tell them of the great battles fought to free Alaga?sia from the egg-breaker king, or share with them her favorite riddles, teach them the secrets known only to dragons and watch them grow and develop into the fierce and magnificent creatures they were destine to be, just as if they were her very own; a family, her family.

The image was so vividly painted upon the canvas of her mind that Saphira felt as if she were living it that very moment. She could hear as each egg shifted and cracked, the young dragons straining to emerge. She heard the excited chirps that followed as the newly hatched dragons explored their new surroundings. How she'd longed for such a day to come and now it seemed just within her reach, save for one fatal flaw; the eggs were not her own. Moreover, as vivid as the image was there'd been no mate by her side. No mate that might aid her in tending a nest or in the instruction and development of newly born hatchlings. From the brief glimpses of her scouting a suitable cave to those of her tending a nest and of flying and hunting lessons, in all she'd been alone.

With a jolt Saphira opened her eyes, releasing a plaintive growl as the near perfect image shattered in what she now saw as a dwindling hope. She'd no doubt of her joy in tending to the eggs, watching them emerge into the world, even in their rearing and instruction, but it would not be the same. Had the vision been a sign, a cruel reminder? Had it been born more of her desire to rear hatchings of her own and less from the pride in rearing those they carried with them?

Leveling off Saphira took a moment to consider the day-dream further, a sudden foreboding stirring her gut into a subtle ache. Had she so quickly resigned herself to a life without a mate? Was she so spurned by the loss of Firnen that she'd so easily accept a lot as a lone dragoness, tending - as her duties allowed - to hatchings that were not her own?

The night grew deathly quiet as a blanket of loneliness settled upon her, stifling her inner fire. It had been difficult for her to overcome Glaedr's rejection; she'd barely opportunity to announce her intentions, to draw close to him, let alone know him. He was her elder, master and teacher and hadn't been interested in anything more. Afterwards her training and focus on the war had made it easy to push that fateful day from her mind until its memory, and her desire for him, all but vanished. But then Firnen came leaving hope and desire to stir in her once more. He'd been closer still, him she'd known. Following the war's end she'd opportunity to live, if only briefly, the life she'd longed for, spending almost every waking, and sleeping, moment with him. Then she was forced to leave him behind. Fate, it seemed, relentlessly denied her at every turn.

Saphira cropped her wings into a gentle descent, leveling off shortly after to resume her easterly flight. She was greeted once more by a shadow, mirroring her as before from the river's surface, as if welcoming her return. Was it trying to tell her something? Was it attempting to remind her of fate's offering, of a life that would be no more than a shadow of the one she'd hoped and dreamed for?

A sudden stir, like a warm breeze, brushed against her mind as Eragon's consciousness surged over their connection, rousing her from her sullen mood. Saphira paused to check for any hint of distress, instead finding him at peace and in good spirits.

He must be thinking of something nice. She thought, wondering what it could be to put him in such a good mood. The sudden reminder of his presence renewed her inner fire, and hope for the future, as the blanket of loneliness covering her lifted.

With a sudden snort she cursed herself. What am I thinking? Of course I'll find another mate one day! There are bound to be suitable males for me to choose from when the eggs hatch. I'm being foolish! Besides, I still have Eragon, partner-of-mind-and-heart. For all eternity!

Eternity ... She thought, smiling inwardly at the weight of what seemed to be such a simple word. It was true. They were dragon and rider, bound through a magic that left Eragon with the life span of a dragon. No matter what else fate took from her she would never be alone. Barring illness or fatal injury Eragon would be with her forever, and she with him.

We are not alone. She'd assured Eragon following the sorrow that both of them endured as Arya and Firnen took flight in their final farewell. It was Eragon who had comforted her following Glaedr's rejection. It was he who had expressed his fortune in being chosen as her rider, following the sharing of her true name. It was he who had keened with her in their shared loss at what could never be and it was he who still remained, sharing in her life en-route to their new home. In everything that she'd endured and sacrificed, during the war, he was her one lasting consolation. As Eragon became her center of thought she soon forgot about her earlier troubles. She considered her own fortune at finding him, such a worthy partner, and soon turned to the day it all began, the day she chose him as her rider, the day she hatched for him.

Following a flap of her wings Saphira closed her eyes once more, letting the memory of that day come into view. She saw the wonder on his face as he looked at her for the first time. She chuckled softly at the sight of his reaction to her when she'd nibbled his cuff. It had been her way of eliciting his touch, a necessary step to release the magic and seal their bond. She remembered the look in his eyes; they'd revealed a certain fierceness and kindness about him. She felt love for him that very moment. She remembered the instant they bonded as his mind melded with hers and the sense of peace, joy and fulfillment that followed soon after. From that day on she was never truly alone. Aye, it was indeed her fondest memory.

Saphira began to hum once more, contentment wrapping her like tendrils of flame. She flapped her wings again, ascending higher, reveling in the moment as if she were attempting to match her height to the level of ecstasy coming over her. Leveling off she mused over how Eragon had grown since that day - how he'd changed - and the success he'd achieved with her by his side. Aye, she had indeed made the right choice for her rider.

Saphira's humming grew louder as she continued to revel in the memory. Not long following a sudden flush came over her, eliciting a tingling sensation upon her skin followed by a tremor of ruffling scales. Her humming abruptly stopped, a startled growl replacing it, snapping her out of her reverie. She paused a moment to consider the unexpected feeling. It felt oddly familiar but, at the same time, out of place considering the subject of her thoughts. It was like when ...

... No!

Realization hit her as if she'd suddenly crashed into the break-neck-ground. She remembered this feeling, felt it twice before. Once when she'd first met Glaedr, then again when she'd first met Firnen.

Impossible! This can't be!

Instantly aware of the feeling's implication she checked her distance, ensuring the state of Eragon's consciousness remained unchanged. To her relief it was as faint as before, weak enough to prevent him from seeing her thoughts. The feeling raised troubling questions that she needed to consider without risk of him catching on. The risk of needless strain to their bond was too great.

In attempt to consider it Saphira realized she wasn't even sure where to start, there was no precedent for it. In all the training she and Eragon had received from both Oromis and Glaedr not once had a like situation ever been mentioned, nor had such ever been discovered within the vast expanse of ancestral memories inherent to all dragons. In short, it was unheard of. Their bond was strong, yes. That much was undeniable. But that fact alone could not explain how, or why, Saphira was suddenly developing feelings for Eragon, feelings that were reserved between dragons alone; specifically, courting dragons.

As if in response to her sudden dismay Saphira felt a consciousness gently push against her mind. It was not entirely foreign to her but not altogether familiar either. In apprehension she raised mental barriers around her mind, but to no avail. The consciousness passed right through them and then spoke in a deep male voice.

Peace youngling! You are beginning to remember what was foretold long ago, what was always meant to be. Behold!

Saphira gently flapped her wings as the image of a single blue egg nestled within an open wooden chest appeared in her mind. The chest sat upon a wooden table, appearing in a room filled with other fine furniture, crystals, numerous scrolls, gold and jewels. Close beside the table was the shadowed figure of what appeared to be a dragon resting on its haunches, a single paw set upon the egg. She could make out no specific detail of the dragon save for a pair of eyes that glowed a deep, brilliant, sapphire blue. The dragon spoke in the same deep, male voice:

Greetings youngling! Long have you been imprisoned in this chamber of the egg-breaker king but take heart your freedom is close at hand. One soon approaches to free you from your prison. The future that awaits you will be filled with trial and sacrifice, battle and betrayal but in the end you will be victorious. A rider whose namesake hailed peace between the dragons of old and the elves, who began the order of dragon and rider, awaits you. You must be patient for he has yet to be born and the day of your meeting is long in coming. You will touch many minds between now and then but you must remain strong for you will be tempted to hatch before the appointed time. You will know him when you touch his mind and from the day you hatch you will love him as no other, and he you.

As if in response to an unseen stirring within the egg the large dragon brought its head down close, gently replying.

Aye youngling, even now your love grows for him and on the day you hatch your eye's will behold the object of your love.

Bringing its head back up the dragon continued:

Together you will topple the great king who holds the inhabitants of this land in a terrible prison. When your task of defeating him is complete your rider shall be the reward for your sacrifice, and you his. He will be yours - your mate - and you shall be his - his mate. This will not come to pass until the land is free of the egg-breaker king. So that you may remain focused to this task the knowledge concerning this prophecy and your future mate will be hidden from you on the day of your hatching. Both shall remain hidden until such time that this land is once again free and you are in the midst of passing from it, en-route to the home that even now awaits you both. You will be joined by an heir chosen to lead the wild dragons, restoring them to their former glory, and oversee placement of he who has been chosen to lead the order of dragon and rider into a new and prosperous future!

As the voice echoed into silence the image faded and the consciousness that entered Saphira's mind withdrew leaving behind the memory of the image's origin. It had been a dream, a prophecy, which she had while imprisoned in the treasury of Galbatorix. The dream had come to her years before Eragon was born and just weeks before the day Jeod infiltrated the king's castle and stole her egg from the treasury. She remembered the dream vividly as if it had always been with her and for a brief moment she felt a spark of yearning at the dream's promise concerning her future mate. Saphira checked herself then came to her senses. H_ow can this be? It must be some kind of trick. How can Eragon possibly be my destined mate?_ Saphira growled in frustration. This makes no sense!

The dream's prophetic nature combined with her new feelings formed the beginnings of a fierce triadic struggle as her mind reeled with confusion and indecision. She had always known the path to take, always been certain in her choices but with this she was at a loss. This was unlike any challenge she had ever faced and it threatened her.

On the one hand was her acknowledgement that she, like all living things, was subject to fate. Although few were ever privy to the details concerning their fate the dream was clearly prophetic and had revealed a rather detailed plan prepared for her and Eragon long before they were born. She could not simply ignore it. Neither could she ignore her own resolve concerning matters of fate. Even during their darkest hour in the war she'd resolved that whatever will be will be - whether defeat or victory - it was useless to fight it or trifle over it. As if to prove the point further, the prophecy had clearly alluded to the defeat of Galbatorix and their departure from Alaga?sia, both of which came to pass. All that remained was the promise of her mate, however outlandish it appeared, and the discovery of their new home.

On the second hand was her sense of devotion which opposed her sense of fate. The object of her new found feelings was Eragon, partner-of-her-mind-and-heart, one whom she'd protected from harm, one who trusted her. For him to learn of this could be devastating. It could destroy his trust in her and even cause him to question the validity of fate itself, threatening the completion of their mission to restore the dragons and riders. Even if he did manage to cope with such a revelation he would never look at her the same way again. This fact alone could strain their bond, possibly for the rest of their lives! Even though Eragon was no longer a child she still harbored a great sense of protectiveness towards him. She still desired to keep him from harm be it physical or emotional.

And finally there was desire which, unfortunately for Saphira, was only complimented by her sense of fate. The prophecy had implied a promise of companionship, serving only to tempt her heart which still ached at her loss. One could not fight fate so why not give in? Since the day she met Glaedr she had yearned for a mate, a companion to fill the emptiness Eragon could not. Whoever the consciousness was it had chosen the worst time to visit her. It was too soon following their departure from Alagasia, too soon since her separation from Firnen. Inwardly she still suffered at the loss and it only reminded her of how long she'd yearned for a mate. How long she'd waited, all the while uncertain if it would ever come to pass. When it finally did it was ripped away from her after only a short time. Now before her was the tangible possibility of the mate she always wanted. Her heart cried out, eliciting a whimper.

As each battled for dominance over her will it was her devotion to Eragon that first gained the upper hand, causing Saphira to reject the dream, prophetic or not. She began to look for another explanation for her feelings. Feelings were fickle whose cause could be rationalized from a variety of sources, leaving her an option of escape from their implied eventuality. On the other hand, fate threatened her escape. Most prophecies, as far as she knew, were vague, possessing little detail. This prophecy; however, had been given in such detail that little or no room was left for an alternate explanation. If she allowed her sense of fate to win over then the source of her feelings had only one possible answer. She was truly beginning to see Eragon as her mate. Saphira gained up her will reading herself in opposition, determined to prevent her sense of fate from gaining the upper hand. She refused to accept that Eragon was destined to be her mate. How could he be? How could she expect him to endure the prospect? She refused to accept it. She wouldn't!

As the triad continued to cycle within her desire merged with her sense of fate and gained the upper hand, overpowering her sense of devotion. Fate was close companion to her desire. The prophecy made promise of a mate, not just the remote possibility of one, but the immediate eventuality of one. This tempted her to embrace it and end her long-suffering, her emptiness and incompleteness. As tempting as the prospect was Saphira's devotion to Eragon was strong. It was not long before it struggled to regain the upper hand, tormenting her with conflicting emotions. Yearning waged against protectiveness, passion waged against loyalty, loneliness waged against duty. She longed for a mate, one that would be by her side the rest of her days. But how could she betray Eragon in the manner the prophecy implied? They were physically incompatible and the prophecy offered no answer to this dilemma.

Desperation welled up inside her, devotion straining to regain the upper hand. She once again entertained the thought that it must be some form of cruel trick, as if the prophecy had been given solely for the purpose of tormenting her. How could she believe it? Twice the prospect of a mate had been before her and twice fate had taken it away! The prospect now before her was like adding insult to injury. At least her two prior were sensible, but ... Eragon!?

Seeking vengeance towards the source of her torment Saphira became enraged and bellowed, searching the landscape below for any sign of intruder.

WHO ARE YOU, WHY DO YOU TRICK ME? SHOW YOURSELF COWARD!

There was no response. The consciousness had vanished into the night, leaving Saphira alone with her torment. After several moments circling the area Saphira ended her search. Not even the faintest sign of an intruder discovered. As her struggle continued her sense of devotion eventually regained the upper hand allowing Saphira's mind to continue in search of another explanation to her new feelings. The prophecy couldn't be true, it just couldn't! The implications were too damaging to their bond.

Her mind racing she entertained that maybe it was a false memory or a day-dream induced by some unresolved pain for her loss. Perhaps she misinterpreted the new feeling. Maybe she was sleeping and all of this was a bad dream. In her desperation she even entertained the possibility that she was simply losing her mind! The harder she tried to rationalize another explanation the more enraged she became as the onslaught of fate and desire rejected each possibility, resulting in her desire for a mate to stir with increasing intensity. Thoughts at the loss of Firnen resurfaced, never again would she be close to him. He was gone forever. But now was the possibility of love and companionship once more, perhaps even leading to hatchings of her own.

The struggle seemed to go on forever. With each turn - fate, devotion, desire - the triad cycled faster and faster until the members merged into a single blur rendering each indistinguishable from the next. Saphira could take it no longer. Her will crumbled away piece by piece leaving her in a frenzy of desperation and anger, begging for release from inner torment. She let out a roar tinged with rage and anguish followed by a plume of fire. Afterwards she thrust her wings with all her strength, propelling her with great speed into the sky where she continued to accelerate and ascend into the night. When she could fly no higher she stopped and hovered in the night sky, her inner battle still raging. Like a rabid dog she searched for something to attack, someone to take her inner turmoil out on. She roared again and again each time following with a fierce burst of fire from her maw. As her inner turmoil reached its' peak she let out a final roar followed by a torrent of flame, coming full circle, then cropped her wings and nosed into a steep dive towards the ground far below.

As she sped towards the ground acceptance began to settle. Her rage calmed but her sorrow remained. She began to realize the futility of denying what was clearly fate. There was no other explanation, her sense of fate and desire had won. Nearing the ground Saphira spread her wings, leveling to resume her previous glide. Defeated she released a sorrowful whimper. How is this going to work? It's going to change so much between Eragon and me.

Saphira did not know how it would work. How could she and Eragon truly be mates? In the end she could only trust that fate would make a way somehow. Eventually, as she continued to glide in the quiet of the night, her sorrow ebbed. She relaxed and let acceptance overcome her, replacing her former torment with a sense of peace. She realized it would take some time for her to become fully accustomed to the idea of her and Eragon as mates; however, she was slowly becoming confident that she would. She also realized that she would need to take it slower and gentler than she had with Firnen. Her destined mate or not, Eragon was physically incompatible. She had no immediate answer as to what would change that. She would simply have to wait and see what fate had planned. Although Saphira had accepted her destiny she had not completely abandon her sense of devotion to Eragon. Consequently she would not allow herself to cross certain boundaries concerning the nature of their relationship, at least not yet. She would begin to court him, yes, but matters concerning specific types of intimacy between them would have to wait until such time that fate provided a way.

Resolved to begin courting him Saphira could see no reason why affording Eragon the title 'mate' would be a problem even if they weren't technically mates. After all dragons mated for life and her choice to trust in fate meant that she was now his and he was hers, for the rest of their lives as far as she was concerned. She saw no point in quibbling over details of formality. Besides, when she considered it, his strength of character was as attractive as any dragon; even if he didn't look or smell like one. She also debated whether or not she should begin referring to him as 'my mate'. It was now obvious that 'little one' would no longer do. As she considered it further the idea gradually became appealing to her. Hmmm, 'my mate'... I'm actually beginning to like the sound of that. She thought, releasing an approving growl.

She was quite certain that Eragon was not privy to the details of this prophecy which left her to the matter of how and when she would break the news to him. It was not a matter she could hide from him for long, nor did she wish to. She was certain he would not take the news well. Considering her reaction she anticipated he would experience a similar struggle. How long the struggle would last and how intense it would be was unknown to her. She was not even certain he would come to accept it as she had.

Suddenly doubt settled upon her. What if Eragon rejects the prophecy? What if he refuses to accept me as his mate? She thought, her earlier resolve faltering. The more she considered it the more aware she became of how much it unsettled her, a feeling she didn't like. She realized that if she courted him, confessed the prophecy to him, she could be staging herself in a position to be denied again, not to mention its potential affect to Eragon. Could she really trust that this was destiny? Could she trust that fate would make a way? Could she trust that she would not be denied again?

What will be will be. She thought, regaining her resolve. She would put it to him as gently as possible and be there to support him every step of the way just like she always had. Mmmm ... p_erhaps Eragon for now._ She thought, reconsidering her earlier decision to address him as 'my mate'.

Saphira came about, the matter settled in her mind, making her way back to the Talita. As soon as she was within range she felt Eragon's mind reach out to her. Find anything interesting during your flight?

In light of her recent event Saphira carefully considered her response then replied. Nothing but the moon, the river and grassland as far as the eye can see. And what of you, anything interesting happen while I was away?

There was a brief pause then a mischievous reply. Nothing but the moon, the river and grassland as far as the eye can see.

Saphira snorted and thought. Humph ... silly rider!

She then replied with a chuckle. Is there an echo out here?

How soon before you make it back to the ship? Eragon had ignored her question. He seemed somewhat distracted, unsettled. At this she began to feel concern for him. Shortly, assuming I encounter nothing on the return flight to distract my attention. Are you ok my mate? You seem ... unsettled. Are you sure nothing happened while I was away?

Saphira winced, immediately feeling surprise emanate from him. She had not intended the reference for it was too soon; however, despite its potential implication what had happened had happened. She could only await his reply and hope for the best. No, I'm fine. I'm just tired, that's all. It's nothing a good night's sleep won't cure.

To her relief Eragon had not taken the reference seriously. She paused, embarrassed by the slip, and then finally replied. I ... I understand. We can both settle down to sleep when I get back. Will you wait for my return?

Aye, but don't take too long. I'm fading fast here.

Saphira quickened her pace, replying. In that case I'll hasten my effort. Moments later she could see the ship sailing upon the river, silently making its way towards her. It was a welcome sight for aboard it was he who would be the object of her new found affection. Her Eragon, her mate!