reversed life

1/2

NOT MY STORY ! :^) All credit goes to Rainxoxo! It looks like Reversed Life has disappeared from the internet again (other than an an incomplete copy) so I'll be uploading it for y'alls enjoyment. The story is massive and the file formatting for the version I possess is wacky, but I'll try to get it up in my free time. I have made zero edits to anything apart from this one paragraph.

Chapter 1

I do not own Eragon, but I wish I did. :) Nor do I own some of the characters in the story, a few are based off of other things that I like, for example, Gabranth, I borrowed his name and his outfit from Final Fantasy XII. I've also borrowed Bard and Finny from Black Butler, the anime, I will try to remain true to the characters and storyline with the exception of Eragon (and if you can't find out who Gabranth really is, I gave you a few hints.) Happy reading.

Urû'baen, the black city, despite its name, was very beautiful and majestic. It was the capital of Alagaësia and in history was once known as the elves' long abandoned home, Iliera. But the most magnificent building in the city, besides the Black Citadel, was the large palace in which Galbatorix and his dragon, Shruikan, resided. Walking down the long hallways, through the stone columns on each side engraved with gold and silver, a tall armored man made his way to the throne room. Dark gray armor cloaked his body covering him entirely, and a helm covered his face, two sharp horns intricately hammered out of metal twisted on each side; a helm that had not been removed in public for over four years. A black cape was tied around the base of his neck, a red sigil on it representing the Empire.

The figure turned, standing before two colossal marble black doors. He turned to one of the guards; his already deep voice coming out deeper as it was muffled by his helm as he said, "His majesty is expecting me."

"Yes, my lord!" They saluted to him, before swinging the doors open. The throne room was grand with a white marble floor, a red carpet leading up to the golden throne. Sitting on his seat, wearing the finest armor and a white sword hanging from his hip was none other than King Galbatorix. He wasn't old. No, despite ruling Alagaësia for nearly a century, his hair was light silver and he had a matching beard. His black eyes never left the form of the tall person, a smile on his lips.

When the figure came to a stop before Galbatorix, he knelt on one knee, bringing his arm up against his chest. "Your highness," he spoke with respect.

Galbatorix's cold smile widened as he leaned forward to observe his loyal subject. Then he spoke, his voice rich and deep, unbefitting of his age. "You must be wondering why I've brought you here, Gabranth."

The figure nodded.

"You've heard of the capture of an elf by Durza, have you not?"

"I have."

"Good, that shall make things much easier," Galbatorix nodded in approval. "Durza, to my disappointment, has been unsuccessful in his endeavors to retrieve information. I am very displeased with his progress. As for the elf, I consider her useless. With the egg gone, there is no other choice for me but to send the Urgals to scout the Beor Mountains—a situation I consider most distasteful." He sighed. "As a reward for you unswerving loyalty, I would like to offer the elf to you as a gift, Gabranth. Do with her what you will. And while you're at Gil'ead, tell Durza how very disappointed I am."

"Thank you, your highness." His bowed head tilted upward as if to gaze at the king from behind his helm. "What exactly should I tell Durza?"

A cold laugh escaped his lips. "Whatever comes to mind."

"May I ask a question, your highness?"

"You may."

"Will I be appointed to lead the Urgals? Or shall Durza do it?"