A/N: I'm a little late to the scene of discovering and falling in love with the Inheritance Cycle, but I have arrived nonetheless. And quite simply, it captivated me in such a way as to leave me wanting more by the end. I appreciate how the series ended and recognize there was not enough time for it to have ended any other way. I agree with something I once read from the author that he could not have forced Eragon and Arya together in the time left without breaking her character. I admire that Eragon made the difficult decision to leave Alagaёsia and followed through with it. But the intentional loose ends and lack of closure, particularly in the area of his and Arya's potential romance, still left me sorely dissatisfied.
In an experience I've never before had, I found my curiosity demanding answers of what might have been if, as Arya suggested was possible, there had been enough time for her to develop feelings for Eragon. After days of struggling to be at peace with what was and even finishing a completely different trilogy, I could not get the story out of my mind and my imagination continued to create a future for Eragon and Arya.
I am aware that Paolini intends to revisit the land of Alagaёsia in the future with Book Five, and I was reluctant to tamper with his world and characters, but alas, I couldn't resist. The moment I decided to sit and write out some of my fantasies, I felt a sense of relief and excitement that I might be able to experience some degree of closure until the time comes when I can learn what the author himself intends for his story. Yet what began simply as an exercise to satisfy my curiosity and put into writing the flurry of fantasies in my mind unexpectedly evolved into what could be a full-length trilogy, complete with unforeseen conflicts and new characters who demanded to have their story told.
The Cycle Continues is completely finished and divided into four parts, each published as its own story on this site. The end of each part has instructions on how to find the next one.
This story is, first and foremost, a romance, and it contains some mature love scenes. In order to comply with the guidelines of this site, I have revised such scenes to appropriately fit into the Mature rating (in other words, removed all Mature Adult content) and have provided directions on how to find the original scenes, where applicable, at the beginning of each respective chapter, for those who are interested.
I have finished what I perceive as my final revisions of this story. Parts One and Two have been professionally edited, and I have used those corrections and suggestions, along with pertinent reader feedback, to guide my personal efforts in improving my story. One of the major changes was to tone down the aforementioned love scenes. They are now shorter and less detailed, and each contains a brief warning at the end of the preceding chapter so you can know to skip it if you want. Overall, the current listing of my story is nearly 60,000 words shorter than the original posting, and I hope you will find fewer grammatical errors and enjoy a better flow.
The Cycle Continues . . .
In Part One:
Reunited
1. Cold
Eragon.
Arya awoke suddenly, her eyes snapping open. She shuddered and drew her blanket tighter around her as she pressed into Fírnen's warm body. Even with the thick blanket and the protective warmth of Fírnen's wing, the cold was unbearable, filling her heart and chilling her to the bone.
It was the middle of the summer, but a shiver ran through her body. Arya thought about the last moments of her waking dreams. Eragon had been reaching for her—about to touch her hands—when she woke up. Tears filled her eyes as she wished she could reenter her dreams and let them continue. She felt certain that if Eragon could just reach her, she would feel some warmth, the first she had in years. Yet she always awoke at the same moment, right before he touched her.
Arya held her hand in front of her face and studied the three fingers she had pressed to Eragon's lips just before they parted ways ten years ago. Ten years, she thought. Such a short amount of time compared to her years of life, but the longest ten years she had ever endured.
Eragon had asked her to stay with him until the first curve in the river, and Arya had. When they reached it, he had pulled her cowl away so he could look at her eyes. Eragon said her name and whispered her true name, and she had whispered his true name in reply. He had opened his mouth to speak again, but Arya had stopped him by placing her fingers against his lips.
Arya remembered how warm and soft his lips were. Surprisingly soft compared to his hands, which were rough, callused, and strong. As she had so many times, she wondered if she had somehow transferred all her internal warmth into Eragon in that simple touch. She had felt cold ever since, and it grew worse with each passing year.
Arya pressed the same fingers to her own lips, willing the warmth to return, but it didn't.
Fírnen's mind touched hers. Little one, he said in his deep voice, his thoughts full of concern.
Another pang filled Arya's breast. Fírnen had adopted that endearment from Saphira, the same she had always tenderly used for Eragon. It certainly was fitting. Fírnen was now enormous, and Arya was littler next to him each year. Fírnen poked his long, handsome face under his wing and breathed warm air from his nostrils onto her body.
Thank you, Arya thought, wishing the warmth would extend past her skin and do something—anything—to alleviate the chill in her bones.
You grow worse, Fírnen stated. His anxiety for her wellbeing increased with every passing day. Even staying near him all day didn't help stave off the cold. Arya felt weak and achy from the constant tension in her muscles as they worked to keep her warm.
Yes, she agreed.
Arya and Fírnen had conversed many times about her dilemma, but her confusion over what she should do never seemed to clear. When she had returned to Du Weldenvarden eleven years ago with Fírnen's egg in her lap, she had been overcome with grief at her mother's death and felt it would be enough to keep her content to remain in the home she had forsaken for so many years as ambassador to the Varden.
Arya hadn't been certain the elves would invite her to succeed her mother as queen, but she assumed the position would be lonely and boring if they did. When Fírnen had hatched for her, Arya knew it would change many things, but if anything, she thought it would provide fulfillment and companionship.
And the elves had indeed offered Arya the monarchy. Though she had resisted at first, her sense of duty had eventually compelled her to accept. At the time, she had been filled with the excitement and wonder of raising Fírnen. Arya now worried she had been shortsighted in her plans by not expecting the strength of their bond—and by extension, the depth of his desire to experience greater freedom with others of his own kind—to shape her own feelings so much. Fírnen thought often of the few weeks he had enjoyed Saphira's company. They were his fondest memories. He had such a limited amount of time with other members of his race, and he longed to interact with more mature dragons.
Arya also felt a deep longing to be with the other Riders. Save for the few times she had flown to assist Nasuada in the settling of various skirmishes, Arya had little to do that occupied her as a Rider. She was lonely in Ellesméra, and without the threat of Galbatorix looming over them any longer, the land of the elves was once again quiet and unchanging.
Arya had thought she would find respite in the peace of the forest, but she actually ached for adventure. Flying with Fírnen, while exhilarating, became more and more uncomfortable due to the cold that never left her. His sadness at her situation and his inability to help her weighed heavily on her consciousness, though Fírnen tried not to burden Arya with it.
The two dragon eggs Eragon left with Arya took some time to find their new Riders. Finally, nearly nine months after Eragon's departure, the large black one had hatched for a young Urgal ram named Varhog. Arya had entrusted Nar Garzhvog with the egg, since he was the spokesperson for the Urgals in their alliance with the Varden and had pledged his friendship to Nasuada when she was crowned high queen of Alagaёsia.
The Urgal Choosing Ceremony had taken place in the Urgralgra capitol Anghelm, and Varhog, as it so happened, was one of Nar Garzhvog's nephews. After several months of allowing the hatchling to grow until he could fly with his Rider on his back—which took a month longer than normal since Varhog was so large—Varhog had joined Arya in Ellesméra to formally begin his training as a Dragon Rider. That was in the spring, a year after Eragon left, and it was a time of great excitement among the Urgals of the Bolvek clan, who revered Eragon for including them in Dragon Rider pact.
Arya was increasingly impressed by how wise and mature Eragon had grown in those final few months prior to leaving Alagaёsia. She realized long ago that for most of the brief time she had known Eragon, she had rarely tried to see him as anything more than a human teenage boy with a crush on her. She had not initially found his affections flattering, but she regretted that view more and more as the years passed. She hadn't given him enough credit for his improvement. And her sense of duty then had still been so strong, as well as her commitment to her people and her mother's legacy.
Arya, Fírnen, and the Eldunarí who remained in Alagaёsia were responsible to oversee the raising of the hatchling and the instruction of the Rider and dragon until they were ready to join Eragon on the Isle of the Eldunarí. This they did in the case of Varhog the Urgal, who left their tutelage but a few months after arriving.
The location of the Isle of the Eldunarí—an island off the eastern coast of the wilderness beyond Alagaёsia—was a closely guarded secret to discourage curious adventurers from pursuing its discovery. Arya alone was privy to it until the new Riders were ready to journey thither. The Isle was within sight of the mainland and the majestic falls that marked the end of the Edda River, but far enough that it was nearly impossible to reach unless flying on the back of a dragon.
The waterfall, in particular, provided the most daunting obstacle. Eragon and the twenty-nine elves accompanying him had safely maneuvered their craft—the Talíta—down to the ocean below using magic. But few other sailors would have the hope of successfully imitating such a feat.
After Varhog and his dragon, Black Thunder—which was a translation from the Urgal tongue of a name Arya found most difficult to pronounce—flew to the Isle, the second egg had hatched for a kinsman of King Orik named Knilf. In this case, Arya had been able to fly to Tronjheim and return to Ellesméra with Knilf and his tiny hatchling. Then she, Fírnen, and the Eldunarí had supervised the raising of the dragon and the instruction of the pair until they were ready to fly to the Isle, which occurred almost as soon as the dragon was large and strong enough to carry its Rider. It happened sooner with Knilf, as he was so much smaller in stature than Varhog. That had given Arya and Fírnen only a short two and a half months with another Rider and dragon before once again being alone in Alagaёsia.
After those two eggs successfully found their Riders, Arya was surprised to meet Murtagh the following year, bearing the next egg meant to hatch for a Rider. He had joined Eragon some months after Eragon had discovered the Isle and deemed it an appropriate home for the dragons and Riders. Apparently, after Murtagh had attempted to remain hidden and aloof for some months, Eragon had scryed him with an invitation to join him, the elves, and the Eldunarí on the Isle. Murtagh had accepted and been given the assignment of returning each year to deliver the next egg to find a Rider.
The Riders and dragons had identified a pattern. With the exception of Murtagh, a dragon had hatched for a human, an elf—Arya herself—then an Urgal, then a dwarf. With the approval of the dragons, the Riders decided to repeat this pattern. The dragons agreed to next hatch for a human, and after meeting with Arya and explaining the system, Murtagh had departed for Ilirea where the Human Choosing Ceremony was being held. Arya vaguely recalled from something Nasuada shared that the brilliant, pink-orange egg had hatched for a young woman.
During that brief visit, Murtagh—at Eragon's request—had asked that Arya scry the Isle once a year in case there was a need to exchange information regarding the process. Arya knew Eragon could use the name of the ancient language to bypass the magical barriers protecting Du Weldenvarden and contact her if the need was great. But he had promised not to do so—out of respect for the privacy of the elves—unless there was a true emergency.
That year, since Murtagh was the custodian of the dragon egg destined for the humans, he had overseen the raising of the hatchling and accompanied the new Rider and her dragon back to the Isle.
The Rider Choosing Ceremonies were held in the summer, which allowed time for the hatchling to grow large enough to fly with its Rider to the Isle before winter fell upon the land. So the following summer Murtagh delivered the egg into Arya's care, as it was meant to hatch for an elf. And hatch it had for Hanin of Ellesméra. Arya once again enjoyed the privilege of helping raise the hatchling and train the pair until the dragon was able to carry Hanin to the Isle.
But that had happened six years earlier. Hanin and his violet dragon, Vera, were the last dragon and Rider Arya and Fírnen had seen, since Murtagh was now responsible to deliver the eggs to the other races, along with the first Riders from each race—Varhog, Knilf, and the human girl—if they wished to accompany him.
And six years ago was also the last time Arya had spoken to Eragon by means of the enchanted scrying mirror they had placed prior to his departure. She contacted him to inform him that Hanin was ready to journey to the Isle and that Eragon should expect his arrival within a fortnight.
The pattern had continued uninterrupted once more through, and the next dragon had hatched for another Urgal. The second Urgal Rider was a Kull ram named Grintuk, who hailed from the northern Delvhtuk tribe dwelling in Anghelm. After Grintuk, another dwarf—even Bodin of Tarnag—joined the Riders.
The following year, Arya learned during her annual scrying session—which never happened with Eragon but usually Murtagh or Hanin—that the dragons had insisted on waiting two years to begin the cycle once more. The many new male Riders needed time to develop the bonds of friendship and brotherhood that would enable them to peacefully progress in their order.
This news was difficult for Arya to receive, for she found herself desperately anxious to enjoy the company of another Rider and dragon. And as the next dragon was intended for a human, she had been forced to wait even longer. Yet another male was chosen, this one a young man from Daret of only thirteen years of age.
Arya had scryed the Isle earlier that spring and was inexplicably disappointed when she spoke with Hanin, not Eragon. She learned that Hanin planned to bring the next dragon egg to Ellesméra later that summer. Arya anticipated his arrival more every day, but she wasn't sure she could wait that long anymore.
Arya thought of her last scrying conversation with Eragon six years ago when Hanin was preparing to leave for the Isle. It had been formal and to the point. Eragon had asked how she was, of course, and Arya had answered in turn. Then she had asked after him. But the main purpose of the visit was to exchange information.
Arya had scryed Eragon on only a few other occasions. The first occurred about six months after his departure from Alagaёsia to see if he had discovered a suitable location for raising the dragons and training the new generation of Riders. He had and had been busy with Murtagh, Blödhgarm, and the other elves in organizing the construction of a stronghold on the Isle, with the memories of the Eldunarí to guide them. The other times Arya contacted Eragon by scrying were only to obtain directions to the Isle or to inform him that a new Rider was preparing to journey thither.
But six years ago, while their conversation had been formal, one thing stood out to Arya above anything else, and that was the look in his eyes as he spoke with her. She hadn't been sure at the time, but now Arya felt certain it had been a look of longing, like Eragon desired her presence there with him. He had once promised her that his feelings for her would never change. Indeed, she remembered for herself, as she thought of his true name, how central his affection for her was in his being.
Arya shivered again. The only time she felt a sliver of warmth penetrate the endless cold was when she thought of Eragon's true name and how much he loved her.
Loved her? she thought. Did he really? Eragon had never said those words exactly, but Arya was sure he would have if she had allowed him to. Perhaps those were the very words she had stayed his lips from speaking ten years earlier when they stood together on the Talíta. Was that why Arya had lost all warmth? Because she couldn't allow herself to be loved? Had she forced the heat of Eragon's love to stay within him and drained herself of any in the same moment?
Arya shook her head in frustration, blinking back tears. She thought she knew what she needed to do to find relief from the cold and from the lonely emptiness inside. What surprised her, however, was that she wanted to do it, had actually considered doing it. But her sense of duty to her people as queen always kept her from following her heart.
Eragon hadn't said anything to her when they had conversed six years previously, hadn't once again entreated her to come. Arya knew he would never ask again, at least not with words, but she felt his eyes had communicated the message clearly enough. At the same time, she wondered if he actually didn't want to talk to her again. This conversation those many years ago was the last time she had spoken with Eragon, for her pre-appointed scrying time usually happened with Murtagh or Hanin. Deep within, however, Arya felt that couldn't be right. Perhaps it was too painful for Eragon to see her.
Arya had a feeling there might always be a part of Eragon that wouldn't give up hope that things might change between them. But he had clearly made a solemn decision to leave the matter in her hands and go about his responsibilities on the Isle without letting his desires interfere. Arya felt her admiration for his growth and maturity surface again, and suddenly she wished she could see Eragon—even if it was only in a scrying mirror—and speak with him in the friendly way they once had.
Fírnen, who was quietly keeping his peace during her musings, entered her thoughts again. When will you decide to admit your feelings and be honest with yourself?
Fírnen, what good would it do! Arya petulantly thought. Her dragon was the only one she ever acted that way with, and it was sometimes a relief not to be perfectly formal and proper all the time. So what if I were to admit I love Eragon?
Arya inhaled sharply as the thought abruptly stopped her, realizing she had never before given that idea form, not even in her thoughts. Now that she had, the truth of it slammed into her, filling her with an unexpected but blessedly welcome warmth.
I love Eragon, Arya thought in amazement.
Yes, little one, Fírnen patiently replied.
You knew? Arya wondered.
For some time now I have suspected. It would have done no good to suggest it, however, until you were ready to admit it on your own.
But . . . but that doesn't change my duties here, Arya protested.My responsibility to my people and my mother's memory.
No, but you have been thinking for many months now about a way to carefully and dutifully arrange for them to be taken care of. Put your plans in place. We should go. It is what you and I both want. We belong with the dragons and the Riders, for so we are.
But Fírnen, Arya persisted, I can't fly off and abandon my obligations on a whim! Perhaps it was a bit hasty to suggest I love Eragon.
Fírnen's amusement was overshadowed by exasperation. Little one, he reprimanded. Do not continue to stubbornly deny your feelings. Ignoring your heart has only led to suffering. Your health is swiftly deteriorating. How much longer must this continue before you care enough about yourself to take the needed action?
But is it possible that I really love Eragon? Arya earnestly wondered. We haven't seen one another in ten years, and I haven't even spoken with him for six.
Fírnen chose his next words with care. Arya, though I have not known you long, I believe it is fair to say that I know you better than anyone else. From your thoughts and memories, I have discerned many things, little one. When I first hatched for you, your mother had just died, which was devastating for you. Your relationship may not have been ideal, but she was your only family and you cared for one another. Before even that, however, a different death weighed more heavily on your heart.
Arya knew where Fírnen was going. Fäolin, she said.
Fäolin, Fírnen agreed. I never knew him, but I learned enough from your memories to understand how dear he was to you. Your friend, companion, kindred spirit. Someone who shared your views, who worked and fought alongside you for twenty years.
Yes, Arya said, now unsure what Fírnen was getting at.
When you first met Eragon, he had not even been alive as long as you and Fäolin knew each other. The pain of losing Fäolin was still so fresh and raw. Learning that Eragon cared for you was not only unwelcome, it was also nearly repulsive. How could anyone ever compare with the friend you had known in Fäolin, especially such an impulsive, immature human teenager?
This discussion would have once made Arya extremely upset, for she was beginning to understand Fírnen's drift. But the fact that Arya didn't feel that disquiet helped her recognize the validity of Fírnen's argument.
He continued, And yet, over the course of the ensuing two years, did not your relationship with Eragon quickly deepen to what you enjoyed with Fäolin? Did you not share the same vision and purpose? Did you not fight alongside him and assist him in his greatest triumph?
I did, Arya allowed.
Little one, Fírnen gently insisted, Eragon is the closest friend you have, a person you trust above all others, including Fäolin, for you shared with Eragon your true name, an honor you did not even extend to Fäolin. And did his knowledge of your true nature discourage Eragon? Did he reject you because of your flaws and weaknesses?
No, Arya said. He didn't. Though I rejected him too many times to count.
That may be true, but that was not my point. For many years now, I have rarely known you to think about Fäolin. Your grief has faded. You will always consider him one of the dearest friends you had, but you no longer miss him like you once did. Arya, the reason I have long suspected you love Eragon is because he is the man constantly ruling your thoughts and dreams. His true name, which clearly reveals his deep affection for you, is the only thing that provides you with any relief from the relentless cold. He loved you before he truly knew you, and he continued to love you after he learned your true nature. Is that not pure love? Your instinctive reaction to love is to suppress it, ignore it, because what if allowing yourself to care deeply led to another loss and heartache such as Fäolin? But is that a valid reason to continue suffering?
I suppose not, Arya admitted.
If you refuse to follow your heart, you may avoid potential pain, but you will undoubtedly continue to experience the constant misery of this coldness. But what if you allowed yourself to be in love, Arya? I would say your chances of being rejected are fairly low. Eragon swore his feelings would not change. Your scrying session six years past seemed to confirm his honesty. What if you went to him and he accepted you? Would you be glad to find relief? Would you want to experience such happiness?
Arya immediately knew she wanted relief from the cold. Never had she experienced torture to compare with the exhausting, everlasting nature of her agony. Nothing could warm her. But she had to think for a moment about the happiness. Could she allow herself to actually be happy? Save her twenty year companionship with Fäolin, Arya had no conscious memory of a time in her life that she would identify as truly happy. Since her father was killed when she was an infant, her mother was always distant. From a young age, Arya felt driven to avenge her father, to fight injustice, to seriously perform such duties without regard to her personal feelings. Losing Fäolin in such a cruel way led to her belief that loving was folly and she ought not to open herself to another person when it could result in such grief.
But as she considered Fírnen's counsel, Arya felt a stirring of excitement within her, for she couldn't deny that part of herself longed to experience love and happiness, yearned to give priority to her own feelings. Could she do it? Her sense of duty had always been her most defining characteristic, guiding her in making all of the most important decisions in her life. Could she leave behind the obligations she had chosen to take upon herself? Could she abandon her duty?
You would not be abandoning your duty, Arya, Fírnen reminded her. You have a duty to yourself as a Dragon Rider. You need to learn the ways of the Riders in the flesh and that happens on the Isle of the Eldunarí. Yes, we have learned much from the Eldunarí of my brethren who remained behind with us, but it is not the same as being with those of our order. You have a duty to me as your bonded dragon to allow me to learn what I must and be among others of my own kind. And your duty to your own heart, which you have always regarded as least important, is in actuality perhaps the most significant duty you have. You would not be abandoning your most important duties by going now to finally fulfill them.
You're right, of course, Arya agreed. Why then do I still feel so reluctant?
Because you are unsure of what to expect with Eragon. You hope he still feels the same and would welcome you there, not only as a Rider but also as the object of his affection and love. Having only just admitted your true feelings for him, you doubt now that he still returns them.
You know exactly why I'm reluctant. You can read my thoughts after all, Arya wryly thought, feeling Fírnen's amusement. But what if that is the case, Fírnen? We haven't spoken, not even by scrying, in years. What if Eragon doesn't want to speak with me, doesn't want to see me?
You know that is not true, little one. A moment ago you thought about the more likely reason. It is most likely too painful for Eragon to see you when he believes that he will never again be with you in person.
When Arya's heart ached in a strange yet familiar way, she realized that her feelings must have been evolving for a long while. To imagine that Eragon might be enduring pain similar to her own because of their separation only intensified her distress, and Arya wanted to ease the suffering they were both experiencing by going to him. But she couldn't completely shake the worry that he had perhaps moved on. Maybe the human girl had caught his eye.
Nonetheless, Fírnen continued, whether he feels the same or not, on that island with the other dragons and Riders is where we belong. I know you agree.
Yes, Arya thought, taking a deep breath. I do. Her decision now would change everything for the rest of her life, and the only remaining obstacle was her weighty political position. She resolved to do as Fírnen advised and put her careful plans in place. Let us go counsel with Lord Däthedr.
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